by Stacy Reid
“I am certain he meant the duchess’ apartment, Mrs. Fields,” Adel said kindly. “I would have you direct the maids to deposit my luggage there and call for a bath.”
The housekeeper’s wariness grew even more pronounced. “The rooms are not ready for you, Your Ladyship.”
Mrs. Fields refused to meet Adel’s eyes and sudden curiosity burned through her.
“Take me to the rooms.”
With a firm nod and flattened lips, Mrs. Fields continued along the corridor. They turned left and walked a few paces down before they stopped at a door. A bunch of keys jangled, and Mrs. Fields twisted one in the ornate brass door and it swung opened.
She stepped back and allowed Adel to enter. She walked in and faltered. Everything in the chamber was covered in white sheets. Cobwebs draped from the ceilings and the dust was so much, the windows that covered half of the left wall seemed covered in cinder. Adel was unable to credit what she was seeing. “Good Heavens, when last was the duchess’s chambers aired and cleaned?”
“Almost three years ago, Your Grace.”
She turned incredulous eyes to Mrs. Fields. “Are you saying no one has entered the rooms since the death of the last duchess?”
“Yes, Your Grace.”
Adel was at loss for words. “Are the duke’s rooms connected to here?”
“Yes, Your Grace.”
She frowned. Were they not to have normal marital relations? She was not sure how higher lords and ladies coexisted, but her mother and father’s chambers had been connected, and it was even the same now with Papa and Lady Margaret. “I see.”
“Get out.”
The chilling command cracked through the room like a whip, causing Adel to jerk. She spun around and faced the door where Edmond hovered in the doorway behind Mrs. Fields. Not hovered, more like he stood frozen, the harsh lines of his face more pronounced, his eyes glittering with cold fury. Adel buried the trepidation stirring inside and gave the housekeeper an encouraging smile. The poor woman looked ready to collapse.
“You may go, Mrs. Fields.”
She bobbed her head, gave them a quick curtsy, and hurried away. Adel calmly exited and gently closed the door. “Please do not be irritated with Mrs. Fields. I asked to see the duchess’s chambers.”
He stared, his gray eyes growing more distant by the second. He appeared so…intimidating was the word that came to mind, but she would not display any anxiety. They were married, for better or worse, and she was resolved to make their situation as happy as possible. “Forgive me for intruding, I was but startled when I learned I had not been put in the duchess’s chambers. Mrs. Fields was unsure if she should have the rooms cleaned and aired.”
Edmond smiled tightly. “These chambers are to remain closed. See that you remember.”
The words stung quite harshly.
With a sharp nod, he spun and walked down the hall with clipped strides.
Chapter Twelve
After the earlier debacle Edmond disappeared. She had spent the rest of the day unpacking and shoring up her courage for dinner. The lady’s maid she had been assigned, Meg, was appalled at Adel unpacking her trunks. She had chuckled. Living with her father, they only had one upstairs maid, and Lady Margaret had monopolized her time. Adel had learned to do much on her own, and she relished the small acts of independence. Simply placing her few dresses in the armoire was soothing, and had helped to quiet the jangle of nerves.
She made her way to the elegantly appointed dining hall to a wonderful supper of watercress soup, game pie, lamb cutlets, chicken Italienne, mushroom fritters, roast beef, baked pike, artichoke hearts followed by rose water flavored ice cream, jellies in a pretty shape, fruit compote, and Genoese cake.
Conversation with Edmond was stilted and her nerves pounded through her as she fretted about whether tonight he would consummate their vows. She had eaten as quickly as possible, then excused herself and hurried to her chamber. Then she bathed in scented rose petal water and brushed her hair with hundreds of strokes, before bundling into one of her very old and frayed white cotton nightgowns.
Perched on the edge of the well-padded mattress, Adel bit into the soft of her lower lip, her anxiety mounting as she watched the door. She had sent a note with Meg to the duke after it occurred to her that he would not know where her chambers were. That had been over fifteen minutes past.
The minutes crept away and with a sigh she went over to the wide windows that took up an entire wall of her chamber. The stars and the moon bathed the land in an ethereal glow. The gardens were brilliantly landscaped into rolling lawns dotted with oak, elm, cypress and willow trees, a topiary garden, and even a gazebo which was covered by beautiful flowering vines. Adel had never seen a view more beautiful.
She would explore it tomorrow after properly spending some time with her new daughters. She frowned, biting deep into her bottom lip. She would have to tread with care. Lady Margaret had not been very welcoming when Adel met her for the first time. In fact her father’s new wife had always taken on an air of mild annoyance whenever Adel was about. She felt nothing of the sort when she thought of speaking with Sarah and Rosa tomorrow, but they had seemed so reserved today.
There was a knock on the door and her heart leapt into her throat. She spun around, pulling the edges of the gown close. “Come in.”
The handle twisted and in strolled the duke, a glass of amber liquid in his hand. He was still clothed in his evening clothes and raised a coolly mocking brow, holding up her note between his thumb and forefinger. “You summoned me, Adeline.”
“I was not sure if I was to make my way to your chamber,” she said tentatively.
There was something undeniably disturbing in his eyes. “For what purpose?”
“I may not know the full of it, Edmond, but I am certain my duties as your wife extend to me being with you in your chamber.” She fought the blush climbing her cheeks, striving to appear self-assured.
His lips twisted slightly. “Ah…so you are ready to fulfill your marital duties? I had not thought you so aware of what that entails.” His tone was dry, his expression inscrutable.
“I beg to differ. I have lived in the country most of my life. I dare say I have an idea,” she said teasingly. Her smile faltered when he failed to respond. How was she to pierce his aloofness? Should she even be trying? “Are we to be at odds so soon?” she asked softly.
He stiffened and then scrubbed a hand across his face. “Forgive me, Adeline,” he said, regret heavy in his tone. “I am being slightly boorish.”
She arched a brow. “Only slightly?”
He smiled, and she rocked back on her heels. The man was simply too handsome for his own purpose.
“Being married…though it was a decision I made in earnest, I find I am plagued with more doubts than I expected.”
Oh. That bit of honesty warmed her heart. “I think it is normal to feel doubt, not that I am an expert on marriage,” she said with a small smile. “And our situation was highly unexpected.”
“Hmmm,” he murmured noncommittally, sipping his drink. But his eyes…they devoured her, from the top of her head to her toes in a slow heated sweep. What was he thinking?
Her heart seemed to flip over when his eyes finally collided with hers. The expression of raw need in his gaze both frightened and excited her. “Should I…should I go on the bed?” She didn’t have much of an idea what should happen, but she knew enough that it must happen there underneath the covers. Adel had heard enough giggled whispers from the maids at her former home.
A disturbingly sensual smile curved his lips, yet his eyes remained guarded. “While there is distinct appeal in the notion, I believe you need time. There is no rush.”
This Adel had not expected. “Thank you for being so considerate, but I assure you, time would only serve to fuel my anxiety.”
“I had thought you would be pining over Mr. Atwood.”
Adel gasped. Edmond was blunt to the point of being distressing. A gentleman would
not so willingly hint his wife might be in love with another man. Would he? What was even more startling, she had not given Mr. Atwood a thought since she married Edmond. Her heart ached with the knowledge she would have wedded a man she apparently had little or no romantic feelings for. “Mr. Atwood is in the past.”
Edmond downed his drink and moved farther into the room. He placed her note on a small side table and rested the glass on it. Then he sauntered over to her, his movements so graceful and masculine she was mesmerized. There was a startling surge of heat in her veins, and a flutter wormed its way through her heart. It was an unfamiliar sensation, but not an unpleasant one.
He skimmed his fingers over her cheek, and then dragged the pad of his thumb across her lips. “Is he?”
She swallowed. “Yes.”
“A few days ago you were planning on marrying him. You were so certain of your affection you took radical steps to climb into his bed and into his life. Are you saying that you did not love your young Mr. Atwood?”
A soft pain sliced through her heart. She had assuredly been fond of James. The only man with whom she had laughed, bantered. They had even exchanged a few chaste kisses. However she would admit she had been desperate to marry him because of how strident her papa had been in pressuring her to marry Lord Vale. Without her father’s ambitions, she would have waited until she and James had formed a stronger bond. “I had affections for Mr. Atwood, and I respected him. They have not disappeared despite his inconstancy, but I am now attached to you.”
Cynicism twisted Edmond’s lips and she hated to see it there.
“I do not need time,” she insisted. “I would prefer to get it over with.” Her stepmother’s only advice in relation to the martial bed had been “Do not brace against the pain or it will make it harder, and if your duke is the sensible sort it will prove to be stimulating.” The mysterious it once again. Adel would have preferred to have had the knowledge of what she should expect in the marriage bed rather than wait in anxiety. Though if what she had experienced in his arms was a precursor she was baffled as to how it, could ever be unpleasant.
A shadow seemed to cross his face, and dark eyes watched her. “Get some rest and in the morning I will inform you of the state of our marriage.”
The state of their marriage? “I would have you inform me now.”
“No.”
“I will not be able to sleep a wink after such dire words. I will not hesitate to follow you to your chambers for answers.”
An imperious brow arched, no doubt at her audacity.
“Our marriage will not be consummated.”
Adel truly appreciated his restrain but it was not needed. “Thank you for thinking of giving me a reprieve.” She winced. “I expressed that poorly. It is not necessary for us to wait until tomorrow, I am ready to—”
“I do not only speak of tonight.”
Bewilderment filled Adel. She searched his face, seeking understanding. His mien was cool and distant. “I do not understand,” she said softly.
He crossed his forearms across his chest and leaned against the door. Something akin to regret gleamed in his eyes. “I had thought since you were in love with another man, you would welcome such news.”
She flinched. “I am not in love with Mr. Atwood! If this is the reason you—”
“Nevertheless it is best we delay. We had no knowledge of each other a few days ago. It would not be remiss if we wait until we are better acquainted to pursue the more intimate aspects of marriage. My home, my wealth, and titles are yours, let that be enough for now.”
She considered him. Was this the normal way of ton marriages? Suddenly she felt the burning need for her mother’s guidance. Oh, Mamma, how I wish you were here. “I do believe waiting will create more distance between us,” she said softly.
Adel should have been happy he was willing to wait, for she hardly knew this severe man standing before her. But instinctively she felt if she agreed to such a separation, the fight for his heart would be much greater, and the divide would be impossible to close. She jolted. The fight for his heart? When had she even thought it likely she wanted this cold infuriating man to hold affections for her? Certainly a happy marriage could be achieved without any attachments?
No…it cannot. Even with her limited understanding of what a marriage should entail, without love they would be like the many lords and ladies she had observed throughout the seasons. Most attachments were cold and impersonal, with both man and woman seeking other lovers to soothe the heartache of loneliness. She couldn’t endure such a union.
“I do not desire anything deeper from this union,” he said flatly, piercing the disquieting silence that had formed.
Pained awareness dawned. “You are not granting me time to acclimatize myself to you…are you?”
“No.”
“Are you saying there is a possibility we may never consummate our vows, even if years pass?”
“Yes.”
A startled laugh burst from her. “Surely that is the most ludicrous notion I’ve ever heard. Why?”
He became even more guarded.
“I may be ignorant of the acts of the marriage bed, but even I know that without consummation you cannot gain an heir.” And according to her stepmother and the ton, every titled man was in need of an heir.
“I have an heir.”
Her eyes widened. “I beg your pardon?”
“I did not misspoke, Duchess.”
“An heir?”
“Yes, my mother thoughtfully provided my father with a spare before he died. My brother Jackson is currently away in the diplomatic corps, but he is the heir presumptive, and I am quite content for it to remain so.”
She froze, and the shock gave way under the tide of rage that filled her. “And did you hold this knowledge before wedding me?”
A shadow shifted over his face. “Yes.”
“And it never occurred to you I would desire children of my own?” she said, her throat tightening with anger.
“I did not single you out for my attention, you climbed into my bed. You would have been ruined and disgraced if I’d walked away.”
“The truth of that situation does not make your assertions now any less despicable. Has it not occurred to you I would have preferred a life disgraced in the country with Mr. Atwood or someone else, rather than be a duchess who will be denied the chance of…of…motherhood?” she growled, her heart pounding. She could not believe they were having a raging argument in such little time. This did not bode well for their marriage, and she hated the tears thickening her throat.
“No man would have had you, once society was through,” he said coldly. “I daresay the turn I did you by marrying you is unmatched.”
She gasped. “You are a heartless brute.”
“It is better that I am heartless, than that I am held responsible for your death,” he snapped, finally showing some passion.
Her death?
Edmond pushed from the door and raked fingers through his hair with force. He grabbed the doorknob.
“Don’t you dare walk away from me!”
“We will finish this discussion in the morning when we are calmer,” he said and opened the door.
“I beg your pardon; do you believe I will be able sleep after what you just said?”
“I assure you I will be thoroughly rested.” As if to say he was not concerned about her state of rest.
Then the wretched, infuriating man walked away.
She growled under her breath and rushed after him, the voluminous nightgown swirling around her ankles. “You have been nothing to me but boorish and…and uncivil. You seem quite content that I not speak to you, and now we are not to form any intimate attachment. Surely such a state of matrimony cannot be agreeable to anyone.”
His long strides took him to his chamber in short order, and she hurried to keep up.
He wrenched opened his door and seemly hesitated. “Oomph,” slipped from her as she collided into his back.
> They tumbled and he twisted so his back slammed into the jamb of the door, protecting her. Acting on instinct she slipped her hands around his neck and gripped him tightly. Adel could feel the thud of his heart against her body.
She tilted her face to his. “Do not walk away, Edmond.”
Eyes filled with raging emotions glared at Adel.
“Tell me what you meant about me dying.”
His muscles tensed, and she tightened her hands at his nape.
“My wife died in childbirth.”
Adel bit into her bottom lip, hard enough to draw blood. “I am deeply sorry,” she said hoarsely.
His mien grew even colder. “She was much more voluptuous than you but even so she forfeited her life.”
The mad duke killed his wife. She remembered the vile whisper. How could society blame him? She wanted to ask, but the question lodged in her throat. “It does not stand to reason I would suffer the same fate, if that is your concern,” Adel whispered.
He flinched. Then he closed his eyes, and tipped back his head to rest against the wall baring the corded column of his throat. The move forced her to lift herself more on her toes so that she could maintain her hold on his neck. What was he thinking?
“Edmond, I—”
His eyes snapped open and the raw torment in his gaze strangled her words. Her heart pounded ferociously, and it was as if his will pressed in on her, encouraging her to release him. Slowly, she slid her hands from around his neck and fisted them to her sides.
His dark eyes never left hers and the distress in them swelled, and spilled forth crashing over her senses. Her limbs trembled. It was as if she could feel his raging pain. Impossible.
Later, she would never be able to say what had possessed her. It could have been the need to wipe the grief from his eyes, or to just offer comfort, or maybe she just wanted to kiss him. Either way Adel reached up and pressed her lips to his.
The fleeting touch of his lips to hers was devastating. Adel stood transfixed for a timeless instant. His taste, his scent… Shock exploded through her. She was no longer even slightly soused, so her reaction was beyond alarming. The intensity was nerve-wracking. Good Lord. Then he shifted, cradling her cheeks into his large palms, and his lips parted. His touch was sinfully alluring.
