“There,” Winifred said, nodding, “listen to your stepmama. Besides, we will have more than enough time to become better acquainted once you and Lucas are settled in together.”
Before she could move further into the room, Cecily was stopped by Amelia Snowe, who had come with her parents. She had already come through the receiving line, so Cecily wasn’t sure what else the beauty could want with her.
“Cecily,” she said haughtily, looking the new bride up and down, “I didn’t get to say so before, but you are looking quite well. Much better than I’d have thought you could in such a short time. You are quite transformed.”
Reminding herself that she was to be on her best behavior, Cecily bit back the retort she wished to give Amelia, and replaced it with a brisk thanks.
“I shouldn’t have thought you’d be able to bring Winterson up to scratch,” the other girl continued, a nasty gleam in her eye, “but I suppose when one is willing to compromise oneself, one’s odds of contracting a match are raised considerably.”
Cecily had thought she knew what depths Amelia was willing to sink to in order to further her spiteful agenda, but this was beyond even Cecily’s comprehension. Was Amelia actually insulting her to her face at her wedding breakfast?
“Amelia,” she said, her anger belied by her calm voice, “you are a—”
She was interrupted by the arrival of Lucas, who slipped a proprietary arm around her waist.
“I see you’ve come to wish us happy, Miss Snowe,” he said to the blonde, his manner pleasant but firm. “It’s quite kind of you to take time out of your busy social schedule to attend our nuptials. Some have suggested that you only came for the opportunity to gather gossip and to snub my new bride, but I told them that you weren’t that ill-mannered.”
Cecily watched with burgeoning satisfaction as Amelia’s face turned from slightly pink to rose red as Lucas continued. “You won’t make a liar out of me, will you, Miss Snowe?” Amelia’s mouth opened and closed, once, twice, three times, before she shut it with an audible snap as her teeth came together.
Finally, she plastered a patently false expression of sincerity on her face, clearly unwilling to offend Lucas despite her enmity toward his new wife, and said, “Of course not, Your Grace. I … I thank you.”
And, desperate to get away from the newlyweds, she made an inarticulate sound and hurried away.
“That,” Cecily said, laying her head on her husband’s shoulder, “was marvelous. I don’t think I’ve ever seen her speechless before.”
“She’s lucky I only gave her a set-down,” Lucas said with a frown. “If she were a man I would have called her out for insulting you. As it is, I think words and her fear of social ostracism should work in our favor from now on.”
Cecily felt a rush of warmth for this man who had known her for only a few weeks but was ready to come to her defense so readily, with no questions asked.
“Now,” he said, reaching down to give her hand a squeeze, “I must go hunt down Monteith. Will you be all right?”
“Yes,” she said with a laugh. “I don’t think I’ll have any more trouble with her. At least not today. Besides, I need to tell Maddie and Juliet about how you just routed our mortal enemy.”
“Excellent,” he said with a grin. “I like slaying dragons for you. I think I’ll enjoy this husbanding business.”
At the thought of what else this husbanding business would entail, Cecily felt a blush rising, and hurried away to join her cousins, who were stationed near a large potted palm.
* * *
As Cecily’s bridesmaids, both of them were dressed in green, though in shades that complemented their individual coloring. They were meant to be the leaves and stems to Cecily’s bloom. Madeline was quietly pretty in a pale green gown—with puffed sleeves and a contrasting dark green ribbon gathered beneath the bosom—that emphasized her hazel eyes and light blond hair. And Juliet, in a deep green gown of similar cut, wore her red tresses in the same style twist as Maddie’s, and was looking better than Cecily had ever seen her.
“What’s amiss?” Madeline said, taking Cecily’s hand. “It can be nothing to do with your appearance. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a lovelier bride.”
“She’s right.” Juliet grinned, taking her other hand. “You are quite transformed.”
“Careful,” Cecily warned, taking her cousin’s words for the dry jest they were. “That”s what Amelia Snowe told me just before she was given a spectacular set-down by my new husband.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry we missed it!” Madeline said, her eyes lighting with glee. “Was she very angry?”
As Cecily recounted the incident to them, her cousins grew more and more animated.
“I’ll bet she was furious,” Juliet said with a grin.
“I just wish the rest of polite society could see her for what she is,” Maddie said with a frown. “A vain and spiteful bully.”
“Yes, well, the ton rarely if ever does what it should,” Cecily said ruefully. “Though perhaps now she will stop making us the object of her derision.”
“We can but hope,” Maddie said. “But let’s not let Amelia ruin our morning. Though one does wonder how she ended up receiving an invitation.”
“I’m sure it was Violet’s doing,” Cecily said with a sigh. “She is forever going on to me about how I should try to make peace with Amelia, if only to ensure that she ends her ‘Ugly Duckling’ campaign. Though I have a feeling Winterson’s slight will have more effect on her than anything I could possibly do.”
“Indeed,” Juliet agreed. “Though it is lowering to know that a gentleman has been more effective on this score than we have.”
“So,” Maddie said, changing the topic, “tell us where you are going on your wedding journey. Are we to be dreadfully jealous?”
“We are staying here in London,” Cecily replied, her mood growing somber. “Neither of us wants to be too far in the event that there is some change in Papa’s condition, or some news comes regarding Winterson’s brother.”
“Very sensible.” Juliet nodded in approval. “I don’t suppose there has been any change with Lord Hurston, has there?”
“No.” Cecily frowned. “He is still insensible. I worry that he may never recover, though the physician assures us that there have been cases where men much older than Papa have gone on to make a full recovery.”
Their conversation was interrupted by the approach of Mr. George Vinson, whose customary bluff humor was marred by a look of reproach.
“You are a beautiful bride, Your Grace,” he said, bowing over her hand. “Winterson is a lucky fellow. First Knighton’s bays and now you. If I didn’t know better I’d suspect the fellow was trying to ape my dashing style.”
As jests went it was a lame one, but then Vinson was not known for his wit.
“Thank you, Mr. Vinson,” Cecily acknowledged. “I daresay there are much worse men for Winterson to emulate. Though I suspect in this case the connection is mere coincidence.”
“What’s this I’ve heard about a curse, Miss … er … Your Grace?” Vinson asked. “Miss Snowe sounded quite serious about it.”
“It is nonsense, of course,” Maddie said, coming to her cousin’s defense. “Miss Snowe is obviously overreacting, as she does with any number of things.”
“Yes,” Juliet said, her usual retiring demeanor replaced with a ferocity that surprised and humbled Cecily. “There has been a lot of talk—by people with nothing better to discuss. I suspect that the story has been fueled by those who wish to discredit both the Hurston and Winterson families. Surely you would not choose to ally yourself with those blackguards.”
Vinson ran a finger under his collar in discomfort. “Dashed sorry to bring it up, Your Grace,” he said. “I meant no offense, of course. Certainly wouldn’t want to … er … I think I see my cousin Chester talking with Lord Darlington. There is a pressing matter we must discuss. Your humble servants, ladies.”
With that, Mr. Vinson hurried of
f as if he were being pursued by Sally Jersey on a broom.
“Spiteful cat,” Juliet hissed, referring to the absent Amelia, who had revived talk of the curse. “She’s simply jealous because you removed an eligible duke from the marriage market.”
“And married before she did, despite her popularity,” Maddie added with vehemence. “I do not think there is a charitable bone in Amelia Snowe’s body.”
“Well,” Cecily said, shaking her head, “I wish Amelia were our only worry. With Papa’s continued illness, Will’s disappearance, and now the speculation among the ton, even I am beginning to wonder if there is some truth to the curse.”
“Nonsense,” Juliet said bracingly. “You are merely feeling overwhelmed. Do not give Amelia the satisfaction of seeing her poisoned words hit their mark.”
The new Duchess of Winterson nodded, shaking off the dark mood Amelia’s insinuations had brought.
“Tell me what goes on with you two,” she said brightly. “Maddie, I see that James is not here. Is he off on some sporting adventure once again?”
James was Madeline’s scapegrace elder brother who showed no signs of settling down as he neared his thirtieth birthday.
His put-upon sister frowned. “I believe he is in town,” she said with exasperation. “He did promise to send his regrets, Cecily. But you know as well as I do how nervous a wedding can make a single gentleman. And I fear my brother is more skittish than most about such events.”
“It is shabby of him not to at least make an appearance, though,” Juliet pronounced. “He and Cecily may not be blood relatives, but that has never mattered before.”
“Fear not,” Cecily said. “I am not in the least offended. Though I am curious at what could possibly keep him in town in prime hunting season.”
“I believe he mentioned cards,” Madeline said with a weary sigh. “At Lord Peter Naughton’s house. It is rather tedious to have a brother with such a wild reputation. It does nothing but make Mother worry and certainly has no positive effects on the family reputation at large. It is no wonder I haven’t had an offer for the three years since my debut. No man in London would be foolish enough to saddle themselves to such a brother-in-law.”
Cecily and Juliet squeezed her hands in commiseration.
“Is Lord Peter known to be a gambler, then?” Cecily asked, careful not to show her interest in the man. Lucas had told her only yesterday that there were rumors circulating that Lord Peter had added some newly discovered artifacts to his extensive collection of Egyptian treasures. “I confess I had not heard much beyond his penchant for antiquities.”
“Oh,” Madeline said with a wave of her hand. “He is your typical rakish type. He does everything to excess—gambling, women. The men in Jamie’s set are forever going on about what a capital fellow Lord Naughton is. How he bested them all when they raced their curricles from Ascot to London. How he blackened Gentleman Jackson’s eye in a bout of fisticuffs.”
Madeline made a noise of disgust. “I have grown quite weary of hearing about him. If I were ever lucky enough to be in his company I would tell him so. Alas, that is unlikely given that the man also abhors polite society and would rather dine on his boots than set foot in Almack’s. That last is a direct quote, by the way. I heard him once when he came to visit Jamie at Essex Grange.”
“It sounds like you have made a study of the man, Mads,” Juliet said, her tone sly. “One would almost imagine you are drawn to him yourself.”
Cecily was intrigued to see a faint blush rise in Madeline’s cheeks. She would take special note of the man when she and Lucas visited him. Though she would not mention her knowledge of the house party. Her husband doubtless knew of the man’s tarnished reputation, but she would not remind him lest he decide to exert his authority as her husband and forbid her to accompany him.
If Lord Naughton were as competitive as Madeline claimed, it was entirely possible that his possession of artifacts obtained during her father’s last expedition was more about besting some other collector than simple joy in the object itself.
Called away from her conversation with her cousins, she spent the rest of the wedding breakfast accepting congratulations and chatting with other guests. To her surprise, she enjoyed herself more than she had at any other gathering of the ton in years. Whether that could be owed to the fact that she was one of the guests of honor, or some change in her own degree of self-assurance, she could not say. But when she and Lucas left to make the short journey to his town house, she was both tired and, to her surprise, happy.
When the carriage stopped in Grosvenor Square, Cecily had a sense of being out of place. As if she should be going back to Hurston House instead of stopping at Lucas’s home. But she shook the feeling off as the normal consequence of so life-altering a change.
They were greeted by the butler, Watkins, and every servant of the house had lined up to greet their new mistress. It hammered home her new position as nothing to this point had done, and as she neared the end of the procession, the enormity of what she had taken on descended upon her and she was at once exhausted.
Perhaps seeing her weariness, Lucas took her arm and ordered baths and supper for both of them.
“There was not time to redecorate, of course,” Lucas said when they reached the duchess’s chamber. “But you are free to do so as you see fit.”
Cecily could only nod as she took in the surprisingly comfortable rooms. Furnished in fabrics and papers of pale blue and cream, the rooms were not so lavish as she had expected. For which she was grateful.
“There is a connecting door, here,” he said, gesturing toward the far wall. “There is a sitting room between our two dressing rooms. I will join you there for dinner in an hour or so.”
His voice sounded suddenly formal, and it occurred to her that perhaps her new husband felt every bit as awkward as she did in their newfound intimacy.
Before he could step through the doorway, Cecily pressed a staying hand to his arm. “Your Grace, wait.”
Lucas turned, his brows raised in question, but he slid his hand down to hers, carelessly rubbing a thumb over her clasped fingers.
“We are wed now,” he said quietly. “I should like it very much if you would call me Lucas.”
She felt a heat suffuse her cheeks. “Very well, Lucas,” she said, feeling a sudden shyness. “I … I was hoping, that is … please stay.”
One dark brow rose in query. His gaze flicked to the bed, then back at her. He raised their clasped hands to his mouth and kissed her hand. “I had thought to allow you some rest. If your sleep was as fitful as mine was last evening, then you undoubtedly need a nap.”
“Might we sleep … together?”
So many things had changed in her life in the past few days that the idea of remaining in her new chamber alone filled her with trepidation.
His eyes widened in surprise, but he nodded.
“Come.”
His fingers still linked with hers, he led her through her dressing room, the sitting room, and finally through the connecting door to his bedchamber.
It was the mirror image of her own, albeit the décor was more masculine, with darker furnishings of deep blue. The bed, a large, imposing affair, dominated the room.
Stopping at the bedside, he indicated that she should sit, and to Cecily’s bemusement, he began to undress her, beginning with her shoes and stockings.
“Lucas,” she protested. “I had only meant … that is to say … It is still daylight. Surely we cannot engage in…”
Her implication was clear, even if she could not bring herself to say the words. On any other day she would have had no qualms about speaking her mind, but her fatigue coupled with Lucas’s gentleness had sparked an uncharacteristic diffidence in her.
Unperturbed by her objection, however, he continued rolling down her left stocking and paused to place a brief kiss on her knee.
“We will only sleep, Cecily.” She read nothing but honesty in his eyes and she was struck again by how
honorable he was. How kind. For the first time in her life she felt complete and utter trust in another person. It was at once comforting and dangerously disturbing.
“You are exhausted and so am I,” he continued.
Lucas rose and began unbuttoning his coat. It was something she felt sure he would have done with his valet’s assistance had she not been present, but as he did not wear his coat as tight as fashion dictated, he soon had it off.
It was the first time she had seen him in just his shirtsleeves and the sight made her breath catch in her throat. Amazing that something so simple could be so exciting, she mused. As he began to unwind his cravat, she found herself waiting with anticipation to see the naked skin beneath it.
Throughout the process, Lucas’s eyes never left hers, and warmth began to rise in her belly and farther below. Without prompting she tucked her feet beneath her and lay back on the pillows, feeling as decadent as a harem girl.
When he climbed up beside her and tucked her against his side, she reveled in the warmth of his skin through the thin barrier of his shirt. Her senses warred between arousal and languor.
“Sleep,” he whispered against the top of her head. “There will be time enough for us to feed our other hungers later.”
She was still formulating her protest when she drifted off in his arms.
* * *
Lucas came awake slowly, though he was fully aware of where he was and with whom he had just slept. He could not recall another time when he had shared his bed with a woman for the purpose of sleep only. But then there were apparently to be many such firsts with Cecily. For a brief moment of panic he wondered at her absence, but then the murmurs of sound coming from the adjoining room, one of the voices clearly hers, reassured him. He would not have been shocked if she had made a rope from the bedsheets and made her escape, but he was relieved to know she had not, all the same.
A faint hunger pang prompted him to leave his bed in search of her. They would dine in the sitting room, and if she was hungry also he would order the servants, whom he had instructed not to disturb them, to bring a light supper.
How to Dance With a Duke Page 21
