Duke of Thorns

by Monroe, Jennifer

  Luckily, they did not have to wait long before the double doors, as tall as the height of two men and wide enough for three horses to ride abreast without riders touching boots, opened and a man in stately livery readied himself for announcing the guests. The crowd behind her went silent almost immediately and it was as if everyone held their breath.

  “Richard and Charlotte Grangeman, Duke and Duchess of Winthbry.” An elderly couple with high powdered wigs entered the room, was greeted by the Dramedas, and then moved off to find a table. People already dotted the room, all more than likely members of the gentry, as they were not introduced in such a way.

  “Benjamin and Cecilia Young, Duke and Duchess of Thornbrook.”

  Cecilia held onto Benjamin’s arm so tightly, she worried she would bruise him. However, she realized quickly that what lay under that coat sleeve was fine muscle and probably would take much more than her hand to mar. This fact left her feeling a bit breathless, and Cecilia was horrified when she realized that, if it had not been for the fact that they now stood before the Duke and Duchess of Falkler, her mind would have wandered off to imagine how much muscle lay beneath the man’s coat and breaches and how they would feel without the bits of fabric between her fingers and that flesh.

  “Drameda,” Benjamin said as he clasped the hand of a man well into his middle years with a well-powdered wig on his head. His deep-blue coat was a bit tight, but it could have been a result of the multiples of ruffles on the shirt he wore beneath it. The lace was so abundant that it billowed from the top of his coat and veritably hid his neck. “I would like to introduce you to my wife, Cecilia.”

  Lord Drameda gave Cecilia such a wide grin, she knew she had to be red-cheeked. “My dear, it is so wonderful to finally meet you. We had heard Benjamin had married a lovely young lady, but the stories do not do justice as to how beautiful she is.” He turned to Benjamin. “How could you have kept her from the world for so long?”

  Benjamin laughed, which caught Cecilia off-guard. This might have been the first time she had heard him laugh with any semblance of mirth. “We have been wed only two weeks, man. How is it I am to present my wife in such a short amount of time?”

  “Quite right, quite right,” the man replied. Then, as if the woman who had been standing next to him had just arrived, he said, “Allow me to present my wife, Lady Penelope Drameda.”

  Lady Drameda was a stately woman with once-dark hair now streaked with gray and pulled up into an elaborate chignon. Her eyes matched the blue flowers that dotted her white gown and had a friendly gleam to them. The gown was as sleek as the Duke of Falkler’s shirt was billowy. “It is so wonderful to have you with us,” she said as she took Cecilia’s hand and squeezed it. “We must speak later when all the guests have been introduced.”

  “Indeed,” Cecilia replied. “I look forward to it.”

  The exchange took no longer than a few moments, and then Cecelia and Benjamin were off to find a place to stand as the rest of the nobility was introduced. Cecilia found the entire affair a waste of time. Could people not introduce themselves to each other rather than through all this pomp and circumstance? However, it was what the ton did; they took as many steps as they possibly could to complicate any matter which was inherently simple.

  Then she giggled. Perhaps it was time for her to change her point of view on nobility and the way they did things. Granted, they did things in a much different way that she was accustomed, but she could orient herself to their way of life. If she was to make herself feel more comfortable in settings such as the one in which she found herself now, it would be imperative that she suffer through the customs of these people. She was one of them now, after all.

  ***

  The room soon filled with people, and Cecilia was introduced to more people than she had ever met before in her life. She would never remember most of the names she was given, but she tried to file away what she could into the back of her mind.

  “Portly, my man,” Benjamin said to a round, balding man whose name fit him even better than his coat, which was on the verge of popping all of its buttons if he was to give any sort of a jolly laugh—something Cecilia doubted rather highly would happen. The man appeared as if he had never smiled even once in his life.

  “Young. So, this is your new wife, is it?” The man eyed her up and down, and if Cecilia had not noted that he had done the same of the couple who had spoken to him just before they had approached him, she would have thought him disgusted. “Pretty little thing.”

  “This is Cecilia. Cecilia, this is Lord Francis Portly, my solicitor.”

  She gave him a nod. “It is a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Portly.”

  “Trust me, the pleasure is all mine.” The words warred against the puckered snarl on his face, making Cecilia wonder if the man was as cantankerous as he appeared. Cecilia imagined that, perhaps, he was not.

  “I must make other introductions, but we should speak soon. I have a proposition on which I need advice.”

  “Of course,” Portly said. “I do not see me moving from this spot anytime soon.” He glanced at a footman who stood beside him with a tray balanced on his fingertips, and the corner of the man’s lips rose just enough to make Cecilia believe he had actually smiled.

  “Come, Cecilia,” Benjamin said as he offered her his arm once more.

  Several couples had already begun dancing in the middle of the floor, and Cecilia watched them longingly as she followed Benjamin across the room. She wondered if he would dance with her during the party, or if the entire time would be spent meeting new people.

  They stopped beside a small group, two couple it would have seemed, and Benjamin once again introduced Cecilia. She, in turn, replied to their greetings with a “The pleasure is all mine” and then listened as the men spoke.

  It was then that Cecilia realized that Benjamin, at each introduction, straightened significantly and presented her in such a way that she felt almost a prize, some new toy he wished to show off to his friends. Cecilia was unsure how to feel about this. On one hand, she was pleased he seemed to hold her in such high regard; however, on the other hand, it was more than a little disconcerting that he viewed her more as a possession than as a wife.

  Perhaps she was being overly critical of the man. She had looked upon the man and the situation through the eyes of a woman who felt angry and humiliated by the fact that she had been bought by the man to pay off her father’s debt. However, it may have been that he simply was proud of the fact he had married her and wished to now show pride in the fact that she was on his arm.

  Guilt washed over her as she thought about her curtness with him in the carriage. What did the man know of women’s clothing? Perhaps he had expected her to add whatever accessories necessary to complete the ensemble and that was why he had made the comment. Yet, he had not seemed embarrassed by her attire as he introduced her to his peers. As a matter of fact, he appeared proud. Yes, she had been far too busy finding fault with the man to truly study him.

  The introductions continued, and for the first time since their arrival, Cecilia began to feel included, important, and at least handsome. She knew the gown brought out any natural beauty, how little that might be, for she had never felt beautiful before, and she was thankful that the man beside her had been so thoughtful in his choices. She drank a nice red wine, tasted a few sandwiches, and found herself participating in more conversations as Benjamin continued with even more introductions.

  Then, when all new introduction appeared to have come to an end, Benjamin said, “Well, Portly and I have some business to conduct. I trust you can find one of the ladies you have met to discuss whatever it is that women discuss at these things. You do have the capabilities to hold a decent conversation that will not shame or humiliate you, do you not?” And without waiting for a response, he wound his way through the crowd and disappeared.

  “Of course I do,” Cecilia said in an indignant whisper. How dare the man speak to her as if she were a child at her fir
st dinner party!

  It was as if Benjamin had some sort of second sight into her heart that, just when she was beginning to believe their relationship was heading down a different, and better, path, he chose that exact moment when she felt a resigned happiness fall upon her to then turn and crush her under his boot.

  Taking a deep breath, she pasted on a smile as a woman approached. Cecilia could not remember her name, it was lost among the many she had learned this night, and as the woman engaged in conversation, Cecilia tried her best to focus on the topic at hand. However, keeping herself focused on a discussion of the best dressmakers and cobblers of Dorset was difficult, for her mind continued to wonder what life would have become if the Duke felt the smallest amount of care for her, and how different her life would be.

  Chapter Eight

  For the two weeks after the party at Sharply Estates, Benjamin had been to more meetings than he cared to admit. Oftentimes he burned the light until late into the night going over plans and ledgers and then rose with the sun to return once again to whatever business awaited him.

  It was early on a Wednesday morn as he breakfasted on smoked herring and toasted bread with marmalade when Cecilia entered the dining room. She rarely rose as early as he, or if she did, she did not come down for breakfast until he had long finished, so her sudden appearance surprised him.

  It was then that he realized just how busy he had been. The only time he saw her was during the evening meal, which was always at the same time every evening. It seemed, according to Mrs. Caplin, that his wife was an able woman when it came to running the household. The housekeeper had assured Benjamin that he should not worry, and because he trusted Mrs. Caplin explicitly, he took her at her word and trusted Cecilia to do that which needed to be done. And true to Mrs. Caplin’s words, dinner was always well thought out and the house ran smoothly. This pleased Benjamin very much, for he was much too busy to take on the responsibility that belonged to the woman of the house. It never occurred to him to consider that he had not had to do so before marrying.

  “Good morning,” Cecilia said in a quiet voice as she took her seat at the table and placed a napkin on her lap. “I trust you slept well.”

  The dress she wore was a blue muslin that Benjamin could not help but notice matched her eyes. Unlike the gown she had donned for the party at the Drameda home, the neckline was much more modest. However, Benjamin could not help but wish he could catch even the slightest glimpse of what lay beneath the lace that covered her almost to her neck.

  “I did,” he croaked, finding all moisture gone from his mouth.

  When she raised her head to look at him, he found himself gazing into eyes so deeply saddened, he himself could have wept. The empathy he felt for the woman who had taken his name was foreign to him, and he wondered how anyone lived with such joylessness.

  How was it that a woman such as herself, one born of the gentry, could be unhappy in her current situation? A woman of lower means, granted not of the lower class but certainly not of nobility, marrying a Duke was a rarity, such a rarity that she should have been reeling from the upward climb. However, here she sat, pain and sadness in those blue eyes, and he felt a lack of understanding, something with which Benjamin felt great discomfort.

  He set his fork on his plate and waited as a footman removed it. Then he waved another off when the man tried to set another in its place. Once the servants moved back from the table once again, he steepled his fingers as he leaned against the table. “Might I ask you a question?”

  “But of course,” she replied.

  “You seem sad. Why is that?”

  She looked down as if to study her water glass. “I am fine.”

  Leaning back in his seat, he studied her for a moment more. “No, there is something wrong; I can see it. Any other woman would have been quite pleased given your circumstances, and yet you do not appear to be as such. What is bothering you?”

  Cecilia sighed and when she looked back up at him, her eyes were rimmed with tears. “The truth?”

  “But of course,” he replied.

  “We have been married now just under a month, and in that time, you have done little beyond belittling and mocking me.”

  He was taken aback by her words. “How so?” he demanded.

  She shifted in her seat and Benjamin immediately regretted his tone. He lowered his voice and asked her again. “How have I mistreated you?”

  “Since I first arrived, you have questioned my abilities at every turn. You have had no kind words for me, you take no notice of what I have done well, and if you have, you have made no comment to tell me you believe otherwise.” As she spoke, her words become stronger and the sadness in her eyes were replaced with, perhaps not anger, but at least urgency. “I have learned much about being a woman of my position. I came with the skills to perform my duties, and even if my learning was done in a smaller household, what I do know can be easily transferred to one such as Bantry Estate. Yet, you ignore me as if I were a servant rather than a wife.”

  “So, you feel neglected, is it?” he asked with an amusement he could not keep from his voice.

  “Only in the sense that I am now a Duchess,” came her reply, her voice once again quiet. “You bought me that beautiful dress for the party at Sharply Estates, and you made a point to comment negatively on it. After parading me about like some pretty bobble, you left me to fend for myself on the first night at a party that held people far above my previous station without any regard for whether or not I would feel comfortable to be left alone.” Her eyes bore into his now. “Have you no sense of duty for the woman you have married?” It was clear she had spent many hours contemplating her anger with him over what she considered great transgressions to still be focused on a time more than two weeks prior. Women could focus on one issue and build it to be greater than it first was; Benjamin’s mother had proven that often enough, as had his sister.

  “Duty you ask?” He chuckled. “My duties lie in keeping food on the table, clothes on our backs, and servants in the house. If you cannot accept that I do not have the time to be your governess, then perhaps you might consider finding a companion. If you had another woman to entertain you, it might make your life here easier.”

  Cecilia wiped at a lone tear that escaped her eye. “I need no companion, Your Grace. What I need is my husband to admit that I exist.” She pushed back the chair with such force that it scraped across the floor. “If you will excuse me, I believe I will write some letters.” And with that, she strolled out of the room, her hands grasping her skirts the only other sign of her agitation.

  Benjamin stared at the now empty doorway, still unable to understand his wife’s anger. Granted, what she said was true; he had made certain comments that might be deemed less than complimentary. However, had she not noticed when he commented that night on how well she looked in the dress, despite the near inappropriateness of the neckline? What did he know of women’s dresses? He had simply chosen something from the plates in a book, given the seamstress one of Cecilia’s old dresses, and asked that the woman have the gown finished in time for the party. How was he to know how enticing he would find the swell of her breasts or the tightness of the bodice?

  He shook his head. Women were so much more complex than he had ever expected, even with what he learned in a house with two women. Well, he had more important things to worry about at the moment. A meeting had been scheduled in town for which he would be late if he did not leave immediately and that took precedence over the fretting of his wife. Perhaps if he allowed her time to think about what she had said to him she would come to her senses before the day was through.

  At the front door, Daton stood ready with Benjamin’s coat and hat, and soon Benjamin was on his way to his appointment, all thoughts of Cecilia pushed aside for the moment, replaced by concerns of business. He would deal with Cecilia later.

  ***

  Later that night, after closing his ledger and extinguishing the lights in the study, Benjamin
headed to bed. He was exhausted. The earlier meeting had not gone well and he had had to rework several details in his plans to offset what he had not gained. The fact the deals had fallen through was not detrimental to his holdings, but any failing did not sit well with him, no matter how small they were.

  As he passed the door that led to Cecilia’s rooms, he paused. Would she be awake at this hour? He was unsure as to why, but he had yet to consummate the marriage, and his thoughts went back to their discussion at the breakfast table that morning. Was this what she had been speaking of? Did she feel neglected in that way? Then perhaps now was the time to remedy that problem.

  He knocked on the door and waited. Although he had initially pushed aside their earlier conversation, an image of the sadness in her eyes had made its way into his mind several times, however unwelcome, throughout the day. It was an odd feeling to haunted in such a way, but he attributed it to concerns for the business dealings and not for nonexistent feelings he had for the woman. Perhaps he turned to thoughts of her, knowing that at least the fact he had a wife meant that one part of his life was under control, at least somewhat, unlike his professional life.

  Now that he was not inundated with business, however, her earlier outburst now plagued him. He knocked on the door again and still received no answer. Where was her lady’s maid? At least the woman should have answered the door.

  Benjamin opened the door and peeked in. This was his wife’s chambers and he had every right to be there, but he found himself walking in like a boy sneaking into the kitchen to steal a cake. Even his heart pounded against his chest in anticipation of being caught where he ought not to be.

  How silly, he thought.

  The room was dark, the only light coming from the moon as it lit up an elongated version of one of the windows across the large rug that lay in the middle of the floor.