Chapter Text
The past week of marriage had been a bit arduous, Rio discovered. Every morning began the same, a bath, getting dressed, breaking her fast. Breakfast with her husband was apparently only one of two times a day she got to see the man, otherwise he busied himself with work or hobbies. She tried, she really fucking tried to know August better.
“What was it like growing up in such a place?” Rio would ask, searching for a genuine response. “I would think that the pressure of being an heir would be rather exhausting.”
“Fine,” August would answer.
No further context given.
Rio would attempt to show interest in his hobbies and work, going so far as to visit him in his study. The place was a scattered mess, much like her husband’s mind seemed to be. August was a fidgeter, she learned. At the table, on the settee, drinking tea. Her husband always had a limb or digit in motion, often resorting to tapping or shaking. Rio also noticed that August did not relax often, his body, that is. She always thought that as a man of nobility, his rigidity came from lessons on how gentry are to carry themselves. But, even in his own home, August was always on edge, on alert.
Additionally, when speaking with Alice, her lady’s maid would make comments such as, “The other staff has not taken to me, almost as if they are afraid.” Or, “The servants always speak in hushed tones in my presence, do you think I have offended them?”
Something strange was afoot at Harkness Hall, she just couldn’t quite put her finger on what. Everyone was kind and most generous with her, but it all felt somewhat…empty. Even her own husband aimed to keep her at arm’s length, literally. Rio would hold his hand? He took it away. She leaned in to him by a whisper? He pulled back. Hell, he hadn’t even returned her attempt at hugging a week ago.
Was she missing something? Was this a punishment for not returning his desires? She wanted to touch August, she simply could not commit to thee touch. A brush of a hand and a hug were platonic on the surface, but he always blanched like her mere presence scorched his very skin.
Additionally, English tea sucked.
A small problem in the grand scheme of things, but as viscountess, it was prepared for her every afternoon. Rio hadn’t had much tea in her life, it was considered a luxury that her family often deemed too frivolous to partake in. Fuck, why did her mother always speak about missing the stuff, it was bitter leaf water. Rio scowled as she sipped her afternoon tea in, of course, the tea room. The amount of money one has to have in order to justify a tea room was a depressing thought, a room only designated for a tedious activity.
There was no door to the tea room, only an archway. As Alice stood next to her chair, Rio drank this fucking drink that she didn’t have the heart to tell the staff she hated. It was rude to do away with traditions of the family she married into after all, though it did make her feel like a guest in what was supposedly her own home. She felt like a stranger, she felt daft. Rio had given parts of herself to her husband, and he had yet to give any back. Who was August outside of his political ideologies? What spurred a man of such great power and wealth to educate himself on feminism of all things?
Rio stared at the carpet as she pondered—who the fuck was Augustus Harkness? First born son of the late viscount, only child, educated, hated the consistency of jelly and never opted for biscuits with jam in the center. His birthday was in October, he never wore his hair down, and liked to go for morning rides with his horse. He was an artist, and still read literature on astronomy as the cosmos did fascinate him dearly. But why the cosmos, and how did he pick up a knack for the arts? Who was he before she met him, other than a rake?
“Rio?” Lilia chirped in worry. “Dear?”
She peered up, not having noticed when the head housekeeper must've entered. “Forgive me,” Rio said, setting her tea aside. “I was lost in thought.”
“About?”
She hesitated before asking, “What was August like as a child?
The older woman grinned. “Has he not told you?”
“I have tried,” she groaned. “The man is an island, it seems.”
“Come with me,” Lilia instructed, wagging her finger. “I will show you.”
Rio eagerly trailed along through the cavernous halls of the home, nearly bumping into Lilia when she stopped at the door to the library. Once inside, Lilia led her to the grand fireplace at the center of the enormous room. She pointed to the portrait hung above. “This was done when he was five or six, or so.”
A painting of Evanora and August, frozen in time. Her mother-in-law’s hair wasn’t as gray, but she still wore that permanent scowl. She loomed behind August, a hand on his tiny shoulder. August himself looked rather small, his lips pursed in a somber pout, and if Rio were guessing, the artist probably did not include the tears in her husband’s eyes since the boy did not look happy.
“Why does he appear so miserable?” Rio flickered her sights between Lilia and the portrait. “His hair is so short.”
“Getting him to stay still that day was a near Herculean task,” she chuckled. “I kept bribing him with sweets, even if Evanora insisted on having me dismissed.”
“How did you stay on?”
“I am from the generation of staff with contracts, I can only be dismissed by the Viscount. And since that was a four year old at the time…”
“So, he was sad about having to sit for it to be done?”
Lilia let out a heavy sigh, her gaze averting. “He’d just had his hair trimmed, it always petrified him.”
Due to the way her husband was adamant about his locks, that didn’t surprise Rio much. But it also left her questioning, “Why did his mother keep it short, then?”
“Because she was the Viscountess, and he was much too little to fight back.” Lilia ran her hands over the skirts of her dress, a nervous tick. “He used to cry and beg her not to, those days were always so difficult for us.”
“That’s horrible,” Rio muttered.
Lilia perked up a bit, waving her along. “It was not all bad, come, I’ll show you some of his artworks.”
Rio followed her to the servant’s quarters, several eyes landing on her as they all simultaneously stopped talking. She gave a polite smile and nod as Lilia gave a dismissive wave to signal them to remain at ease. Lilia opened the door to her bed chambers, and Alice was not lying, the accommodations were lush indeed. Most servants slept on cots in the basement, however the servants at Harkness Hall lived on the first floor in real bedrooms with full sized beds that each staff member could personalize as they saw fit.
Lilia knelt down, grabbing a small chest from beneath the bed. Rio knelt down beside her as the older woman pried it open, a million mementos flooding the box. There were drawings and projects and scribbles and toys, even an old stuffed rabbit with one eye dangling off its face. “I did not have the heart to throw most of it out.”
“He drew these for you?” Rio’s own heart gushed at the sight of mangled pieces of paper with atrocious drawings of people or stars or horses.
“Thank the heavens he improved,” Lilia chuckled. “This is the childhood I care to remember. He was so inquisitive and sharp, practically straight out of the womb.”
Rio delicately sifted through the keepsakes, grinning like a fool at the parts of August she had yet to witness. “It is cute how he signed each work at the bottom.”
“Oh, I made him,” Lilia murmured. “Every great artist signs their work.”
Rio gazed upon drawing after drawing, lingering on one of the sky with a bright moon in the corner juxtaposing stars. “Who is Agatha?" She ran her index finger over then signature, tracing the loopy A. "Pretty name...”
There was no last name on this one like the others, each one had a crude Augustus Harkness at the bottom right corner, but this one displayed a lonesome Agatha.
The older woman’s face crinkled, as if it was painful to utter such a name. “A, um, a neighbor girl he grew up with. Must have slipped in without my noticing.”
Rio giggled at her sudden change in demeanor. “Well, do not beat yourself up about it. Where is this Agatha now, perhaps you should send it to her so she can get a kick out of it.”
Lilia’s smile vanished, her eyes hollowing. “I have not seen her in a long while. She had this smile, it radiated when she would run around the grounds.” Lilia took the drawing, safely tucking it back in the chest and closing the lid. “I do miss that smile.”
Whoever Agatha was shifted the air between them, the housekeeper getting back up in a flurry to shove the chest under the bed again. “I am sorry if I upset you.”
Lilia shook her head. “You did nothing wrong.” She pointed towards the door. “I should go check in on how the cook is faring preparing dinner for tonight.”
Rio left after that, meeting with Alice back in her bed chambers to switch gowns for evening attire. Even in the least formal household, a viscountess still dressed well for dinner. As Alice undressed and redressed her, Rio could only think about how that tiny boy must have felt in his own home. If poor little August also felt like an outsider, forced to conform for the sake of a bloodline.
Rio waited at the dinner table for her husband’s arrival, and waited, and waited. The candles were burning down, the food had to have been lukewarm by now. She turned her head slightly, trying not to snap as she spoke, “Where is the Viscount?”
William nervously gulped. “In his conservatory, I believe.”
She shot out of her chair, annoyed. “I shall go fetch him.”
“I am able to-”
“No,” Rio interjected, storming out of the dining room before leaving the main home altogether. The conservatory was a trek but not far enough to warrant another mode of transportation. When she reached the small structure, she did not even think to knock, deciding to glide in as if she owned the place, which legally, she did.
“You mean to tell me you are still tracking this constellation?” A woman, beautiful with a head of perfectly tousled curls, teased. Her hand was on August’s shoulder as they both leaned over the table with a chart on it.
“The damned clouds have yet to clear,” Her husband grumbled, but his voice sounded off, a completely different register.
The ceiling was mostly glass and in the center there stood a telescope, a way to record the night sky. Rio loudly coughed, crossing her arms over her chest. She had been left to wait while another woman touched her husband with ease. In fact, August did not even seem to be tense, just relaxed as the other woman. Why wasn’t he relaxed with Rio?
Her husband looked up from his work, his sleeves rolled up and vest unbottoned, eyes going wide like he’d been caught red handed. “Rio.”
“Is this the wife?” The woman inquired. Her smile was pretty and her dress was a warm pink, a gold necklace dangling off her neck to sit against her ample bosom. She crossed the distance, quickly bowing. “It is nice to finally put a face to the name, I was starting to believe the Viscount had gone mad and made you up. Might I say, you are out of his league, Rio.”
She decidedly did not bow back. “It is Lady Harkness.” She found some comfort in the way the other woman furrowed her brows at Rio’s tone. After pulling her gaze away from the woman’s cleavage, because there sure was a lot of it, Rio raised her own eyebrows at August. “Dinner has been ready for quite some time.”
He dropped his pencil, pinching the bridge of his nose. “My apologies, Jennifer and I got distracted and lost the time.”
Was he as distracted by this woman’s breasts as she was? Really, what woman spends time with a married man with her chest essentially pushed up to her chin. “Distracted with what?”
“I live a few miles down the road,” Jenifer explained, though Rio wished she would cease talking. “My parents do not allow me to use our own conservatory, so I have been known to steal your husband’s from time to time.”
“Steal my husband,” Rio replied under her breath. “Yes, well, he is charitable like that.”
“We shall finish up here momentarily,” August stated.
“I shall wait.” Rio pursed her lips, clasping her hands together. “Forgive me, I did not get your surname, Lady…?”
“Oh,” Jennifer grimaced. “I am not married, it is Miss Kale.”
“Ah, so you are unwed and consorting with my husband,” she hissed, bunching her fists at her side as the rage bubbled under her skin.
“Rio,” August soothed, coming to stand next to Jennifer and resting his hand on the middle of her back. Right, so he’d touch her freely, just not his own wife. “She is an old friend, nothing more.”
Her eyes dropped again to Jennifer’s bust—god damnit, why could she not pry her eyes away? “So, dinner? Will Miss Kale be joining us?”
“Splendid idea,” her husband casually said, ushering both women out of the conservatory. “We have yet to host, it shall be a great trial run.”
“Trial run?” Rio repeated.
“Wanda married a duke, I fear it is inevitable that we shall host them in the near future.”
At least Wanda was married so Rio would not have to worry.
“Do let me know when you have them,” Jennifer piped up as they walked back to the house. “I have not seen Wanda in ages.”
“Yes, why did I not see you back in London?” Rio gritted out., secretly trying to explode this woman with sheer force of will.
Jennifer nearly cackled in her face. “My debutante days are far behind me, I am a spinster. My father’s health is in disarray so I do all the accounting for my family, it would have cost more to marry me off than keep me at home. My sisters have married well, so the bloodline is secure anyhow.”
Rio fell silent after that, letting her anger seethe as they sat at the table with August at the head and her and Jen on each side of him. There was the internal conflict of not wanting to blame a woman for being a temptress, because that was wrong.
However, why was this woman laughing at her husband’s jokes and swatting his hand during the meal? They were getting on like two friends catching up over a beer, and that familiarity made her feel…bad.
Here she had been for the past week working her ass off to make this marriage work, to take on the responsibility of being a viscount’s wife, when he did not so much as notice her efforts.
“Yes, well, I was not the one who tipped over the table in a tantrum,” Jen giggled, sipping her wine near the end of dinner.
Bitch.
August, who was on his third glass (yes, Rio was keeping count), gasped in shock. “I did not tip over the table! I simply bumped into it and the game was over…”
Jennifer was near tears in her hysterics, then looking at Rio. “Your husband still owes me money from that game of cards.”
Rio climbed out of her seat, wanting to tear her own hair out. “August, might I speak to you alone?!”
Her husband’s chuckling quieted, only now realizing he might be in some sort of trouble. “I, er, yes. I suppose so.”
She exited first, overhearing August asking Jen if she was alright to wait, to which Jennifer eyed Alice passing Rio in the hall and purred, “More than alright.”
First her husband, now her staff, this woman was determined to take everything of Rio’s.
“Yes?” Her husband questioned, closing the door of the adjacent room.
Rio worked her jaw for a minute. “You have a lot of nerve.”
“Moi?” August pouted, definitely tipsy. “What ever did I do, darling?”
“Do not play coy!” Rio ripped off her damned evening gloves. “In what world is an unmarried woman and a man being alone together appropriate?!”
“I am married,” August pointed out. “There was nothing untoward about us in the conservatory together. Additionally, Jen and I have been alone together many, many times and it has never presented as a problem. It seems as though the only person taking issue with it is you!”
“Am I not supposed to take issue with a woman whose bust was bursting at the seams touching my husband?!”
“Husband?!” August reared his head back, holding up a hand. “I was to believe that we are friends.”
Rio lurched forward, smacking his hand down. “And yet you treat me as a pariah!”
He snorted before he scoffed, “I do nothing of the sort.”
“You do not touch me, you do not allow me to touch you!”
“Yes, because I vowed as such!” August roared, his face becoming red. “We are married in name only, you do not hold affection for me as a wife does for her husband!”
And because Rio could never be screamed at without screaming back, “You are fucking impossible! Are you aware that you are a stubborn ass?!”
“I am the stubborn one?! You are the one who would not allow me to move you to another wing!”
Rio’s fury got the best of her, her hands reaching out and curling her fingers into her husband’s vest. “That does not give you the right to act as though we are not wed!” Perhaps she had not thought this through well enough, because her husband’s grip came around her wrists as he spun them around, her back hitting the wall with a soft thud.
“I did nothing with her!” He was no longer yelling, his voice becoming lethally quiet. August’s face was level with her as she tried to wriggle from his clutches, unsuccessfully she might add. “No matter if we never touch again, no matter if we are never intimate, I took a vow in that church. I am yours just as much as you are mine.”
The gravel in his tone made her pulse spike, the proximity making her breathe faster to catch up with her heart.
He continued, his hips tilting forward to pin hers. “I may be a rake, but I am a gentleman first. I did not kiss Jennifer, I did not sleep with her. I had no intention of doing either. Instead of pointing fingers perhaps you should ask yourself why you care so much.”
“You’re my husband-” she murmured, letting her wrists go slack as he held them steadfast.
“Plenty of women have husbands, but none are as possessive as you, it seems,” August whispered, his gaze burrowing a hole into her. “Jealous, are we?”
No, she wasn’t.
Was she?
There was this flame gnawing at her bones, and there was a trembling in her thighs. Was that jealousy? Truly, Rio had never experienced the emotion since she thought it a rather vapid one.
“Possibly.” It came out breathy, much to her own shock.
He smirked at that, a lion with a doe between its fangs. “And why ever would that be, my lovely wife?”
Shit, she couldn’t let a man win an argument. More importantly, her stomach was fluttering in a foreign way, like a bolt of heat splitting her open. “Let go of me,” Rio weakly demanded. “Now.”
His hold vanished, as did his hips from hers. There was guilt etched in his eyes, his face washing over with concern. “Rio.”
She peeled herself from the wall and ran to the door, sprinting through the home and climbing the stairs to the safety of her bed chambers. August wouldn’t come in here without her say so, he may very well have just screamed in her face, but he respected boundaries.
Rio clawed at the back of her gown, the corset restricting her labored breaths. There was this panic at the back of her brain, sounding off like an alarm. She started hyperventilating as the gown stayed in place, her hands flailing around herself to try and wrench the fabric off. There wasn’t any air, no air as she fell to the ground, her knees sinking into the very nice rug.
She hunched over, giving up her quest at freedom as the sobs came. It wasn’t the fight that made her bawl, it was her body’s reaction. She felt insane, she felt completely unhinged. The very idea of a man that close to her always disgusted Rio, but when August had her up against that wall, she only felt the need to get even closer. The fear didn’t come from the notion that he might be violent, but that Rio didn’t even consider it.
Her hands covered her face in shame, any other woman would not have such troubles. So what was wrong with her, what inside Rio was loose or rusted that made it so difficult to simply be with her husband. And why did she have to be broken, why could she not live as any other married woman? Rio cried until her throat felt raw, snot caked onto her face. The emotion felt cathartic to let out, but she still couldn’t identify what the emotion was or where it stemmed from.
And this fucking dress.
Her britches were still being made, but the day her trousers arrived, she would run around the grounds doing fucking cartwheels.
She pulled herself up, finding a handkerchief to wipe her face with. After a few calming breaths, she cautiously opened the door. There were no voices bellowing from downstairs, so hopefully nobody would witness her red eyes and puffy face. Rio quickly and silently made her way to the servants quarters, she needed Alice. She needed a friend, more accurately. Her husband was nowhere to be found, probably off in his study or the conservatory.
With her head down, Rio rudely ignored any staff who might have seen her, going straight to Alice’s room.
Here’s the thing about entering rooms with closed doors: knock.
“Alice, forgive me, but-” Rio spoke, freezing as her eyes landed on the two bodies currently intertwined and attached at the mouth. She had seen that dress before, recently actually.
Jen broke away from Alice, leaving her lady’s maid no longer pinned to the wall. The spinster licked her lower lip as she gasped, taking several steps away. “Lady Harkness-”
“Rio,” Alice hastily pushed out. “This is not what you might think.”
“No, no,” Jen agreed. “There was merely a stain on my dress, and your maid was kind enough to try and remedy it.”
Rio tilted her head, her mind reeling and doing backflips to absorb the mental image. “W- with her- her mouth?”
Two women—that was not possible.
She supposed they were both adult humans, but the concept had eluded her.
Alice anxiously chuckled. “Yes, yes. It, um, it is an old maid’s trick to um, um...”
“Kiss?” Rio whispered in bewilderment, her eyes as wide as the saucers she used for her afternoon tea.
“I assure you, there is a perfectly reasonable explanation-” Jen started.
She had to get out of this strange fucking house, she had to get out of this godforsaken dress. Rio didn’t wait to hear the perfectly reasonable explanation, taking off and drowning out Jen and Alice’s pleas for her to stop. Her legs were already moving, and she had no plans of making them do otherwise.
Because she couldn’t actually leave the grounds (even if she could, she had nowhere to go), Rio barricaded herself in the library. There was a fire and a settee, and most importantly—scissors. Fine, she’d get out of this dress one way or another. She shakily grabbed them before tearing through the front of her dress, pulling it off as fast as she could.
There was still the issue of her stays, but beggars could not be choosers. She slumped onto the floor in front of the fireplace, hugging her knees to her chest. Rio watched the flames dance as she replayed that image over, and over, and over, and over, and over-
She replayed it a lot.
Before she interrupted them, they seemed to be enjoying themselves. Jen and Alice were having fun.
Damn, Jen moves quickly.
Jen also certainly had no interest in August if she was locking lips with Alice.
Everyone here could engage in touch so naturally, they did not even hesitate to give in.
Rio had never considered another woman before, though now she felt silly to not have.
What about her made it so difficult to consider, engage, just…give in.
And how long would it be until her husband gave up on her because she could not be fixed? She sniffled as the fire projected light into the room, her own shadow looked to be as small as she currently felt. There were too many thoughts racing at once, she could hardly discern any of them.
Could August tell she was shattered beyond repair and that's why he would not touch her, even platonically? And what if she could never give him more, what if Rio didn’t want a him?
The tears spattered atop her kneecaps, her lips quivering as she tried not to cry again. She wanted to go home, she wanted her mama. Even if things were never perfect at home, at least she knew what was happening there, it was consistent.
At least she felt normal there.
Rio wanted to learn more about the world and science and nature, she wanted to be educated. She did not want to learn more about herself, she was a spinster for crying out loud, she was old. People did not make new revelations at this stage of life. She was always so sure of herself, of who she was.
Rio was not made for love, it was not her lot in life.
She didn’t want for more than what she had.
And if a voice somewhere buried deep below the surface turned its ugly head and demanded more, Rio would have to be stubborn enough not to listen.
Hell, Rio didn’t even know what she wanted.
She was a girl masquerading as a viscountess.
And soon, everyone would see her for that.
Maybe they already did—maybe it was why August only married her out of pity, maybe it was why the other staff were cold towards Alice.
Rio wanted to go home.
This wasn’t home.
It would never be home.