Dukes by the Dozen

by Grace Burrowes

  He hadn’t offered excuses, or even bothered to look surprised. He’d simply regarded them with an irritated scowl. They left, riding home in a painfully silent carriage. The woman had been barely older than Julia.

  Even now she shuddered in revulsion.

  No one had discussed it with her later. Her father had offered no apologies; her mother mentioned not one word of it. As though the entire incident had never happened. It was then Julia realized she needed to leave that house, a family that was built on lies with a father who would do…that…and a mother who allowed it.

  Julia buried her horrified disgust beneath a veneer of civility, but she never forgot. Never.

  Once in her room, she dismissed the servants and lay on the bed for a goodly amount of time, but the burning ache in her chest did not dissipate. Nor did the understanding she would be missed downstairs and must return. She drew herself together, one shattered piece at a time, until she was composed enough to appear with the other ladies.

  She was on her way to the drawing room when she heard the sound of her husband’s deep voice resonating beyond the thick wooden door. “She’s a beauty, with a long, thick mane of hair.”

  She paused, a smile softening her demeanor at the idea of her husband talking about her to the other men.

  “Such a lovely creature, with a dominant personality,” he continued.

  A bit odd to be called a creature, but if he saw her personality as being dominant as he bragged to his peers about her, she would take it gladly.

  “And she has the world in her eyes, like she knows everything.” He stressed the last word. “Large and wise and the deepest shade of brown.”

  Julia froze. Her eyes weren’t brown; they were blue. The woman her husband was discussing with such affection was not her.

  She curled her hand into a hard fist and focused on the pressure at her palm to keep from pressing herself against the door. And anyway, there was no need. Not when she could hear William’s words of praise as plainly as if she were in the room with him. Certainly, she felt the impact of his subject as viscerally.

  “I tell you, my girl is always ready for a bruising ride,” William said.

  She pressed the clenched fist to her mouth. Had he truly just said that?

  “It’s those gorgeous legs of hers. Long and white.” He paused, presumably for a drink. “Just like her mother’s.”

  Julia’s eyes nearly bulged out of their sockets. He wasn’t suggesting he’d…that, with the mother…and the daughter?

  “I know she’s going to go soon, but it breaks my heart to see it.” He sighed heavily. “I’m only glad Maribel has foaled twice, so she might forever live on in them.”

  Julia’s shoulders dropped from where they’d climbed to her earlobes. What a blithering idiot she’d been. He was discussing his horse. Again. And she’d thought he was talking about another woman. Again.

  A sick sensation swirled in her stomach with a crushing realization. The issue was not with William at all. It was with her.

  And the fear that what had happened between her mother and father could happen to her. The ache in her chest grew into something terrible. It robbed her of her breath and left her gasping for air as though she were dying.

  She couldn’t stand the idea of trusting William, of letting herself love her husband and then finding him the way she’d found her father. Her heart would not be able to endure such hurt. She had never realized the organ was so very fragile, yet now it hovered on the edge of shattering.

  A fire burned in her chest. When he returned to their chamber, she would tell him the truth of it: she still wished to go to the country after she’d delivered him an heir.

  William took the steps two at a time in his eagerness to see Julia. He’d meant to participate in the games with the rest of the house party, but when he heard she had retired to their room already, he immediately understood. She was waiting for him. To be alone with him.

  He reached the landing and made his way down the hall, hoping she would still be wearing her silk frock so that he could peel it off of her. But when he opened the door, he was not met with a willing wife, but one who was red-faced from crying and wrapped in a bulky robe.

  The servants had obviously been dismissed, as was evidenced by the disarray in the room. Stockings were crumpled in one corner, a pair of dainty red shoes lay on opposite sides of a chair, and various jars were left open.

  “Julia, are you unwell?” He closed the door and rushed to where she sat on the edge of the bed. “Shall I summon a physician?”

  She shook her head and glanced up at him. Her long lashes were spiked with moisture. “I can’t do this, William. Forgive me, but I-I do not think I am meant to be a wife.”

  His mind reeled at her words. Were they back to this?

  “I beg your pardon?” He sank to the bed beside her. “Has something happened?”

  “Yes,” she breathed. “I’m a coward.” She buried her face in her hands, and her throat flexed as she tried with an obvious effort to hold back her tears. “I married you to escape my father’s household, and now I’m realizing what I tried to leave has followed me.”

  How very flattering.

  “I’m afraid I don’t understand,” William said in an even tone. It cost him dearly to keep the desperation from his voice, to keep from demanding answers. He was finally on the cusp of getting the family he wanted, but she did not want him. The same as all the families before who took him in after his parents’ deaths.

  The story spilled from her, of her father and his lover in the theater box. A tawdry tale to be sure.

  He listened attentively. “And you think I will do this to you?”

  “I worry it might someday happen.” Julia gave a miserable sniff. “I hadn’t realized how much I feared it, until I was reassured that you did not have a lover at your country estate. But then seeing Lady Venerton flirting with you and touching you—”

  “I did not encourage her.” The anger had flared up within William. The odious woman had been impossible. Toward the end of dinner, he’d had to be downright rude to keep her from putting her hands upon him.

  “You did not,” Julia agreed. “But someday you might. Or someday it might be a different woman whose attentions you do want.” She sniffled miserably. “Then I overheard you talking downstairs about Maribel, and again, I thought you meant another woman. Do you not see, William?”

  He stared at her in question. For he did not see. Not a bloody whit.

  “I will forever think you are with another woman,” she exclaimed. “It will drive me mad. It will drive you mad.” She pressed her lips together as her eyes welled with a fresh bout of tears.

  He met her gaze and put his hand gently under her chin to keep her from looking away. “I am not your father.”

  Her brow crumpled, and she nodded.

  “Get to know me, Julia, and you will discover I am not that sort of man.” He didn’t bother to hide his hurt. “Get to know me and let me prove to you that you married me for more than an escape from your childhood home.”

  “Forgive me, William.” She brushed at her wet cheeks. “Please, I need you to agree to allow me to move to the country once I’ve delivered an heir.”

  “If you still believe me to be a man who will not be loyal, and who will not love you faithfully by the time you have delivered our son, then yes, I will allow it.” He chose his words carefully, intentionally.

  She was correct when she said she did not know him upon their marriage. The courtship had been only two short months. Not nearly enough time to be fully acquainted. His impulsivity sometimes spun around to bite him; this was clearly one of those times. Except he would not let this opportunity slip through his fingers. He had only one wife, only one chance for a real family, and he would not lose.

  Julia’s shoulders sagged in evident relief. “Thank you. I am terribly sorry.”

  “Do not be sorry yet.” He stroked a hand down her cheek. “You are still here.” He pressed a
tender kiss to her brow and got to his feet to prepare for bed.

  He took his time unwinding his cravat, pulling off his waistcoat, and carefully folding them as he set them aside. Julia watched him with an unreadable expression. “What are you doing?”

  He tugged off his shirt and squared his shoulders so every muscle in his torso flexed. She looked away, but not before giving an audible intake of breath.

  “Preparing for bed.” He went about the room, tidying up what had been left a disaster.

  “It’s early.”

  “Not so very early.” He scooped up the discarded silk dress and carefully draped it over a chair to ensure the fabric didn’t wrinkle. When he turned back to her, he found her gaze feasting on his backside before it snapped away.

  His hands went to the placket of his breeches. “Are you ready?”

  She gave a vigorous nod and darted under the covers, bulky robe and all. Her eyes remained averted as he unbuttoned his pants and pushed them off. She did not look at him again, not even after he’d donned his nightshirt.

  He put out the candles and slid into the large bed beside her. She stiffened. He settled himself on his back and closed his eyes.

  It took only a few moments before Julia began to wriggle about. A slight shifting at first, then turning and tossing about like a fish flopping on the dock.

  “William?” she said finally.

  “Yes?”

  “Aren’t you…?” she left the question hanging unsaid.

  “Going to sleep?” he finished. “Why, yes, that is precisely what I’m doing. Or rather what I would be doing if you weren’t squirming around.”

  “What I mean to say is, aren’t you…going to…have relations with me?” She asked the question in barely a whisper.

  And William smiled into the darkness.

  Chapter 4

  Julia’s cheeks were hot with embarrassment. How awful to have had to voice such a question aloud. No wife should be forced to ask if her husband meant to have relations with her.

  “No,” William replied.

  “Oh.” She lay there awkwardly, unable to sleep and trying not to fidget. The bed had been quite a decent size the prior three nights, fluffy and comfortable and wonderfully large. Now, it appeared to be too small, every movement making her fearful she might bump or brush against him.

  Well, maybe that was what she needed to do. If she was going to get with child quickly and be free of this whole marital mess, she had to be brazen enough to take action on her own.

  She rolled toward him and put her fingertips to his arm. His nightshirt was thin, and the heat of his solid flesh was a welcome reprieve from the chilled night air. “William?”

  “Mmmm…?”

  “You’re very warm,” she ventured.

  “You may press against me.” His voice was gravely, suggesting he had already fallen asleep. A ridiculous notion. No one fell asleep that quickly.

  She accepted his invitation and rested the length of her body against him. The simple act of putting herself against him immediately heated her icy fingers and toes. A sigh escaped her lips. He was more than warm; he was hot. And strong.

  She recalled him without his shirt, the powerful cut of muscle across his broad chest. Emboldened by her goal, she trailed her fingers over his shoulder, below his neck where his skin was uncovered by the shirt, naked. His heartbeat thundered under her touch.

  Still he did not react. And he was very clearly not asleep. Of that she was certain.

  “Would you like to undress me?” she asked.

  “We should play a game,” he said abruptly.

  She froze in the exploration of his body. “A game?”

  “Yes.” The rich timbre of his voice rumbled under her fingertips. “Tomorrow is the last day of the house party. For every game you win, you will decide what it is we do together. For every game I win, I will decide.”

  “That seems fair,” she replied slowly into the dark. She withdrew her hand but did not turn away from the delicious heat of his large frame.

  “Best of luck in the morning.” With that, the infuriating man immediately fell asleep.

  Julia, however, did not sleep. Not right away at least. Not with William lying beside her, hot and powerful.

  A game, indeed.

  She’d always been good at them and seemed to possess a considerable amount of luck. It would be simple. She merely needed to win at least once and claim her prize, which would be intercourse. She would become pregnant, deliver a boy, and be done.

  It was the perfect plan.

  Or so she thought.

  The following morning when she awoke, William was already gone. His absence this time was welcome. After an uncomfortable night of sleeping at his side, trying desperately to keep from touching his person with any part of hers, she was all too grateful to be alone.

  The door opened and her maid, Edith, entered with a silver salver. The scent of heated chocolate filled the room.

  “I’d hoped you’d be awake.” Edith set the tray on the small table before the fire. “His Grace ordered this from the kitchen.” She straightened without bothering to retain her grin. “He remembered that I’d requested it for you from his cook at Stedton Place. Such a thoughtful gesture.”

  Julia pulled herself from bed at the idea of the warm rich cup of chocolate. Her head ached, and her eyes were gritty. The treat was quite welcome to be sure. “Thank you for bringing it up, Edith.”

  The maid nodded and slipped from the room to give Julia time to enjoy the hot beverage. It was considerate of him.

  And it was not his only thoughtful gesture throughout the day. He ordered a shawl brought down for her while she read in the library, even though he wasn’t in there to see if she would get a chill. He complimented her on her new gown as she made her way to luncheon. In fact, it appeared he was intentionally going out of his way to bestow her with kindness.

  And he most likely was.

  If you still believe me to be a man who will not be loyal, and who will not love you faithfully by the time you have delivered our son, then yes, I will allow it.

  His words from the night before came back to her, so carefully and purposefully stated, she knew at once what he was about. He was trying to woo her.

  The idea ached to the core. If she were a different woman, one whose doubt could be as easily persuaded as her heart, it would all be so lovely. But she did not believe it possible to let go of that fear.

  Wooing did not obliterate the possibility of being hurt.

  One’s husband, as it turned out, was impossible to avoid. William was everywhere. In their room throughout the day, passing her in the hall with a lingering smile, excelling at all masculine sports the men ventured throughout the day.

  When readying for dinner, they did not talk, but he did take nearly twice as long as her to prepare. The care in his appearance was impossible not to notice, the smoothness of his sharp jawline, the immaculate combing on his hair that made one want to muss it.

  Lord Venerton was in attendance at dinner, having made a full recovery. He sat beside his sullen wife, whose sparkle was relegated to her fortune of gemstones.

  Without her constant interruption, William devoted his attention to Julia. And if she was being entirely honest, she was not unaffected by her husband’s affection, despite her resolve to remain so. He was a handsome man, there was no denying that. It was equally as impossible to ignore those dizzying circles swirling in her stomach.

  If only enjoying that sensation did not frighten her. If only the idea of loving him was not so absolutely terrifying.

  So, when Lady Bursbury announced dancing would take the place of separating the sexes before games that evening, Julia knew it would be best to not dance with her husband. It was quite fortunate that he slipped away for a moment before they departed for the salon.

  “Lord Hesterton, perhaps you would care to dance?” she asked quickly, while she had the time to do so.

  The marquis paused mid-sip of h
is claret and set it aside to turn toward her. “With all due respect, Your Grace, it would take an act of God to get me on the dance floor.”

  She regretted her request even before he answered. Panic seized her, ridiculous and impossible to ward off. She was the worst kind of woman, undeserving of a man such as her husband.

  Fortunately for her, Lord Hesterton cast a furtive glance toward Lady Jane on his other side, obviously having assumed Julia had asked on the younger woman’s behalf.

  Before William could return, Julia slipped out of the room and made her way to the library. She would return in time for the games, where she would promptly win and claim her prize. She would bear him an heir, and then settle in the country estate on her own.

  For now at least, she could escape to the solitude, and recover her senses.

  Or so she thought. For no sooner had the beginning notes of a lively country dance strummed to life in the salon down the hall than the door to the library swept open.

  William found the library empty, save for a fluffy white dog sitting at the base of a large set of green drapes. A large set of oddly-shaped green drapes.

  “What have you got there, Bruiser?” he asked.

  Lord Bursbury’s dog gave a sharp yap.

  “Is it an intruder that ought to be taken down?”

  The shape behind the green velvet gave a little jolt. Bruiser barked again.

  William crossed the room to stand by the covered windows. “Or is it a lovely duchess who has a penchant for feeding small hungry beasts, and is clearly attempting to escape the company of her husband?”

  Bruiser’s stubby tail waggled with such excited force, his entire body rocked side to side. Julia unfurled herself from behind the cloth, the tilt of her chin indignant.

  “I was not attempting to escape your company,” she declared.

  William lifted a brow. “I can presume there was another logical explanation for your placement behind the draperies?”

  “I was…studying the fabric. I believe we need some drapes like these in our library.” She rubbed the heavy velvet between her thumb and forefinger, her lips pursed in consideration. “We most definitely do. They’re quite heavy. Will you feel them?” She drew the material upright, extending it in his direction.