The Spinster and the Rake

by Devon, Eva

  “Indeed.” He locked gazes with her and abruptly asked, “Is there anything you look forward to? In being my wife?”

  How the blazes could she answer that, given the tenuous state of affairs? With truth, she supposed. And so, she stated, “There are many interesting people I wish to meet.”

  A muscle tightened in his cheek. “Such as?”

  “Mary Wollstonecraft, Edmund Burke, Richard Sheridan.”

  “Good God,” he said, “you have a list already prepared.”

  “Of course I do,” she replied brightly. “I would never have the opportunity to meet these people as Miss Georgiana Bly. But as the Duchess of Thornfield? I have realized I can meet them all.”

  He laughed, his eyes warming suddenly with a boyish animation. “Yes, you can. And if you like, I shall arrange it.”

  “Truly?” she asked, barely able to breathe through her excitement.

  “Truly,” he said. “I can arrange for you to meet Mrs. Radcliffe, too.”

  “Mrs. Radcliffe?” She gasped with surprise. “Do you care for horror novels?”

  “Indeed, I do,” said Edward. “I quite enjoy the drama of them.”

  “B-but you are so…so…”

  “Yes?”

  “Serious. And you don’t seem as if you’d enjoy a novel in which the heroine is kidnapped and taken to a faraway castle.”

  “Perhaps it is you who is misreading me,” he said, his lips curling into a tentative smile.

  And just as that passed between them, the carriage rolled to a stop in front of an immense house. The square was quite large, and she realized that the house itself was wrapped around it.

  Good Lord. This was no regular town house.

  Town house was barely the proper term for it.

  This was a palace.

  This was something that stretched along the banks of the Thames and declared itself to be a jewel of the past, something that she had never dared to anticipate.

  Of course, she’d read about the great old houses along the Thames, houses that had been built in the time of Henry VIII, Charles II and George I.

  This most definitely was a house that had been built in a time when a family had become extremely powerful and wished to declare that power.

  And now that family was hers.

  She could not even fully countenance the immense wealth it would take to build such a house in London.

  As the coach slowed, Edward pounded on the roof. “Take us round to the back.”

  She stared at her husband, wondering what the devil he was about. She felt the coach sway, and instead of slowing, it picked up speed as it turned the corner of the street that was lined with people.

  Even here, people had come to applaud and to see them, but there was a look in her husband’s eye that she did not quite understand. It was a fantastical mystery to her. Whatever it was, it caused the most delicious sensation of anticipation to dance through her.

  Once they’d disappeared to the isolation of the drive behind the house, away from onlookers, he twined his fingers about hers, then pulled her across the way onto his lap. The heavy skirts of her gown splayed about her legs, the silk rustling.

  Her bottom bounced against his hard thighs as he pulled her to his chest.

  Gazing down at her, he said softly, his chest rumbling with the depth of his voice, “We have not time to practice the sort of intimacy you speak of. I do not know if I can do it, but I will try. You see, you are entirely unique to me, Georgiana. And despite how odd you might find my behavior, I confess, I never wish to let you go. I may never be the man you want, but I desire you entirely, and I know you desire me. Let that be enough.”

  Enough?

  He slid his hand up to her face and caressed her cheek, stroking it with his thumb. Then he slid his hands into the soft locks of her hair, tilting her head back, waiting for her to deny him.

  Despite the fact that she wished to protest, she found that she could not. For he was correct, she desired him just as much as he did her.

  Her mouth opened slightly, anticipating his kiss, offering herself to him.

  Perhaps they were destined to disappoint each other. Perhaps they were destined to fail, but they could at least have this, and this, as he said, would have to be enough for now.

  When his mouth came down upon hers, she was eager for him. She wrapped her arms about his shoulders as if she was clinging to a future that might not ever come to pass. Oh, she longed for it more than anything; enough to forget all of her arguments, all of her points, and to simply give way to his kiss in this moment.

  It mattered not if that made her a fool.

  His mouth worked over hers passionately, his tongue teased the corners of her lips. She opened to him and the hot, velvet stroke of his tongue touched hers. She gasped against him, their bodies taut against each other, the silk of her gown rubbing deliciously against the perfect wool of his morning coat.

  As though nothing else mattered in the world, Edward managed to pull down the window coverings and they slowly rolled toward the isolated entrance she assumed was used by tradesmen.

  Though she was still uncertain as to their future and how they would navigate each other, she could not deny how much she desired him.

  Or how he clearly had a need for her.

  Edward found the hem of her silk gown. He clasped it in his hand and worked it up her calf. Its voluminous folds floated up toward her waist as his hand traced the now bared skin above her knee.

  When his fingers slipped under her chemise and deftly slid between her thighs, she bit down a moan of sheer pleasure.

  He kissed her with unyielding intent to make her drunk on him. Of that, she felt certain.

  The way he stroked her body was the most glorious thing and also the most maddening. She shook with anticipation.

  His fingers skillfully slid over her slick folds until she parted her thighs, eagerly. She held tightly to his shoulders, desperate for the pleasure that could unite them.

  Surely at any moment, he would part her thighs farther, take down his breeches, and fill her with his hardness. But then Edward sat back on the bench.

  She opened her eyes and gazed at him, perplexed.

  Making quick work of his breeches, Edward bared his hard length, which had filled her with pleasure the night of their wedding. Their real wedding.

  He held his hand out to her.

  Not knowing what the devil he was up to, she still placed her hand in his. After all, in matters of pleasure, she trusted him entirely.

  He swept her onto his lap and eased her over him so that her core was pressed against his hard shaft. Her knees splayed over his hips and pressed down into the cushioned seat.

  As he guided her into place, understanding struck her. “Truly?” she whispered, awestruck.

  “Truly,” he growled.

  And with his hands upon her hips, she lowered herself, taking him deep inside her body. The power of it filled her with passion. It took her several moments, but he did not try to force her to his rhythm. Rather, he allowed her to find hers.

  Her head dropped back as she undulated her hips. That part of her body which overwhelmed her with intense pleasure pulsed with promise. As she rocked, she bit down on her lower lip.

  “Look at me,” he said.

  Georgiana blinked, then met her husband’s dark gaze. The intense hunger in those eyes declared one thing and one thing alone.

  Mine.

  Yes, she was his. By law. And in this moment, by pleasure.

  But…he was hers as well. She knew it from the way he held her, relentless in the power and pleasure he could give her.

  A gasp of sheer bliss passed from her lips and the tight coils of release shocked her with their strength.

  His eyes fluttered closed, and he shuddered. Even as he thrust against her,
he held her to him so tightly in that moment, she felt certain he might never let her go.

  When their breathing slowed and she rested her forehead against his, she wondered how they could be so perfectly matched in this, yet veritable strangers—opponents, even—in other ways.

  The coach rolled to a final stop and he helped her off his lap. Arranging her skirts and then his breeches, he carefully tucked one of her curls behind her ear.

  His thumb trailed along her jaw, then teased her lower lip.

  “Come then, Duchess, let me introduce you to your adoring crowd.”

  “Adoring,” she said, laughing, though her entire body was liquid from the lovemaking they had just shared. “I think they might all wish to murder me. For I have taken the greatest prize in the kingdom, without even trying.”

  But was he, she wondered, the arrogant prize everyone thought? Or was there, by some sheer chance, something more?

  Chapter Twenty-One

  The crush of people inside Edward’s town house was completely different than the crowd outdoors. The people outside had been eager to approve of her. Those in the ballroom? They stared at her as if she was a strange creature brought from the bottom of the sea that might infect them all with some insidious disease.

  It was most shocking, their obvious skepticism, and more to the point, she discovered that she knew no one. And it quickly became apparent that in the English aristocracy, knowing one another was the key to the kingdom.

  As she was trotted about the room by Lady Strathmore—or rather, Aunt Agatha now—she was introduced over and over again to people who were a complete mystery and who greeted her with feigned approval. It was obvious from their ferocious smiles that many of them wished to say something cutting, to all but eat her alive, but Edward lingered just behind her, glowering all the way.

  She could not deny the feelings for him that filled her heart, because he stared with such intensity at the ladies and gentlemen at their wedding breakfast.

  As if he was her private guard, not only her husband.

  Because of Edward, not a single one of them would dare say something unkind to her. But she could not always be under his protection or Aunt Agatha’s wisdom. No, she was going to have to face these people at some point on her own, and she knew exactly what she was going to have to do to survive it.

  After several hours of being paraded about like a dubious pony, she pulled Aunt Agatha aside into one of the myriad hallways. Even from the more isolated corridor, the ballroom buzzed loudly with gossip.

  Aunt Agatha peered at her with sympathy. “Are you holding up, my dear? You must brace yourself. There will be much of this.”

  “I can see that,” Georgiana confessed with no self-woe. “It is a bit daunting, but I shall overcome.”

  Aunt Agatha nodded her silver hair, which was perfectly coifed. “Edward and I were concerned.”

  “You needn’t be.”

  “Oh no?” Agatha asked, though she did not appear convinced. “You are not overborn?”

  “Certainly no!” Georgiana forced a smile, holding her mother’s advice to her heart. “I am made of stern stuff.”

  “I am glad to hear it,” Agatha said. “I did think so, but one never knows how the strain of so many people who consider themselves to be so—”

  “Superior?”

  “Yes,” admitted Agatha, patting her curls with her emerald-ringed hand. “You see, I did not know how they might have an effect upon you.”

  “I wish you to hire several tutors at once,” Georgiana said simply. “There is to be no delay.”

  “Tutors?” Agatha echoed with a pleased smile.

  “Indeed,” Georgiana confirmed, folding her hands before her. Determined. “You and Edward have taught me many things. But I need more. Much more. You will continue to be invaluable, of course, but I need people who can dedicate their time to teach me the intricacies of ton gossip, of the rivalries and histories of the great families, not just the titles and their precedence. I wish to walk into a room, know who’s about, know the scandals, and if I wish, to be able to skewer them.”

  Aunt Agatha’s eyes lit with delight. “My dear, how splendid.”

  “I think so,” Georgiana said, glad to be met with equal enthusiasm. “I should also like to hire a dancing master. I may not be good at it, but I can at least improve. Also, you and Edward? Your manners are so ingrained. I do not think you know how to teach them. I need someone who can help me negotiate the strange manners of the ton, for they are a bit more nuanced than the ones of my set.”

  “I’m glad you’ve noticed, my dear.” Aunt Agatha sighed as if it was terribly tiring. “You certainly aren’t an embarrassment, of course, but the ton does behave in specific ways.”

  “So, I’ve observed,” Georgiana replied ruefully.

  Agatha cocked her head to the side. “We shall begin at once.”

  “Marvelous,” Georgiana confirmed, relieved. “I wish Edward and I to have a chance at happiness.”

  Aunt Agatha smiled again. “As do I. You know, your ability to be happy in his world will greatly affect his happiness, too. He likes you a great deal.”

  “Do you think so?” Georgiana found herself asking, attempting to resolve his strange behavior with someone who liked her.

  “Oh, yes,” Agatha said. “I have not seen him have such an affinity to someone as I have to you.”

  Georgiana laughed, barely able to hide her disbelief. “If he shows me affinity, I can only imagine what he is like to someone he does not care for.”

  Aunt Agatha waggled her brows. “My dear, you have no idea.”

  Georgiana stared at Agatha for a moment, then swung her gaze back to the ballroom filled with people dressed in silks and brocades and sparkling jewels. “They’re all cowards, aren’t they?”

  Agatha blinked. “I beg your pardon?”

  “Cowards,” Georgiana whispered. “They’re all quite terrified of Edward. They want to mock me, but they won’t because he’s there.”

  Agatha nodded. “It is true to a degree, but be careful. Some of them are great men and women. They work hard to further the causes of independence and progress throughout this world. They fight tyranny and do their very best for the country, even if they are all power mad. But yes, many of them have very small minds.”

  “They think they are so grand,” Georgiana said.

  “Yes,” Agatha agreed easily, as it was the most natural thing. “They were veritably born that way. From the moment that they burst into this world, wailing away, they were told that there was no one like them. It is only being told daily that they are special that makes them so certain they are so. It is truly something that cannot be learned, that ingrained belonging.”

  “You do not think I can learn it?” Georgiana asked, disappointed.

  “Not what they have,” Agatha warned. “I would not bother to try to be truly like them, my dear. You will fail. No, you must be yourself and you must be it boldly. But I agree with you. You must still also know the way of the land, lest you be caught in one of their traps.”

  Georgiana grinned at that and took Agatha’s worn hands in hers. The older lady blinked in astonishment, clearly surprised by the touch.

  Taking courage in hand, Georgiana declared, “I am glad that I have you.”

  “And I am glad to be of service to you,” replied Agatha. “You may not have been born to be a duchess, my dear, but you certainly have the heart of one.”

  At that compliment, Georgiana felt her heart swell, for she agreed.

  “Now,” she announced with more confidence than she truly felt, “let us return and show them that I am not bothered a wit by their snobbery.”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Lords and ladies frolicked in the impressive and extensive gardens of the Duke of Thornfield’s London townhome.

  Her townhome. We
ll, townpalace. Georgiana grinned. She couldn’t help herself.

  She had never seen such a sight.

  Men and women dressed in the most beautiful shades of lemon, rose, lavender, robin’s egg blue, and hues of every spring flower filled the lush but manicured gardens.

  She could scarce believe the sights before her. Lords and ladies giggled amongst the fountains as they raced about the sculptured topiaries, playing like children.

  Was this how it was to be? People who ruled the world acting as if they were at a children’s birthday party?

  It certainly seemed so. It was most astonishing to her, their amusement at the delights Georgiana had arranged for them. Some of the ladies looked remarkably like what they no doubt thought dairy maids or shepherdesses looked like.

  Oh, it was true that the fashion for full skirts had gone out just a few years before, but the ladies still looked as if they wished they could live some sort of bucolic life in their soft linen gowns.

  Georgina doubted that any of them had ever met a shepherdess in their life, or a cow…or a sheep, for that matter. Georgina had met several of them out on her walks. At present, she wasn’t entirely certain as to which she preferred, but there was one thing that was unquestionable.

  So far, her first garden party was a resounding success.

  Nerves had rattled through her all morning and into the afternoon. They were still there, but as she gazed at the happily jaunting ton, drinking champagne and tossing flower petals at one another, she felt relieved.

  At several moments, old fears had threatened, and she’d been quite certain that she was going to turn over the lemonade bowl, but somehow, with Agatha by her side for several of the first minutes of the party, she had not yet managed to jostle the refreshment table.

  Quite the opposite, she had been most successful in navigating the guests, the shrubs, and the drinks.

  Dozens of servants moved about, dressed in light livery, delivering hosts of glasses filled to the brim with crisp, bubbling champagne to the thirsty ton.