by Diana Quincy
Hart’s breathing grew louder when her hands glided over her breasts. She soaped them in rhythmic movements, with both hands, until their pink buds peaked. Heat gathered within her and a significant part of her wished the hands caressing her tingling skin were Hart’s instead of her own.
His eyes clung to her every movement. Although he didn’t touch her, her body alerted to his, and the impact of it heated her skin until she felt feverish. Still, she pretended to ignore him while giving each part of her tingling body the same concentrated attention. When her hands moved to her private place, she couldn’t help flushing. Her body pulsed for him, especially there.
Hart groaned and spun away. “I begin to comprehend that this going to be a very trying day.”
Willa leaned her head back on the edge of the tub and closed her eyes, her mouth curving in satisfaction.
…
The next day, she escaped him as soon as she could. Anxious to learn more about her new home, she asked Digby for a tour after a quick solitary meal in the breakfast room.
It was early, so the housemaids were still going about their morning tasks cleaning the grates and lighting the fires. She waved off the butler’s apologies that all of the fires had not been lit before she left her chambers.
“Nonsense,” said Willa. “It is I who should apologize for undertaking this tour so early in the morning.” The housemaid snuck a quick look as she used a tinder box to light the fire, appearing amazed a duchess would think to apologize to servants. The rest of the staff was also busy, moving briskly about their work. Along the tour, Willa and Digby passed footmen cleaning and preparing the oil lamps and candles. Others were polishing the furniture in the principal rooms.
The portly, distinguished butler was polite and formal. As their tour progressed, Willa noticed the subtle but knowing looks from some of the servants. Even Digby’s reproving looks didn’t completely quell them. She imagined the stained bedclothes had done their work.
The size and opulence of Fairview Manor astonished Willa. Camryn Hall was large and gracious, but it seemed diminutive compared to her new abode. The second floor galleries alone were immense, running the entire length of the house. And Willa had never seen such gardens. They were meticulously maintained and encompassed well over seven acres, boasting dozens of different plant and flower varieties.
When their tour came to an end, Digby left Willa to explore the gardens on her own. Wandering through, she imagined herself spending a great deal of time in the garden on fine days. Looking at the variety of plants and blooms, Willa recalled her encounter with Hart in Camryn Hall’s gardens. A fluttering heat rose in her chest as she remembered their shared passion and hunger that day. How different it had been from her wedding night.
Shaking the thoughts from her mind, she wondered whether Hart was awake yet. Being locked away together yesterday had been an ordeal. Willa had pointedly ignored him, turning to her books instead of letting Hart draw her into a game of chess or conversation. She’d played the role of adoring bride well enough when Vera brought their meals, but retreated back into her shell once they were alone again. Hart had been polite and solicitous, but she detected flashes of annoyance in him as the day wore on.
Walking at a brisk pace in the garden, Willa pondered Hart’s revelations. Her initial surprise and outrage had receded, leaving a barrage of questions in their place. Outright doubts about her innocence were discussed openly at a gentlemen’s club. By respectable gentlemen. It was beyond mortifying. Until now, bolstered by her family’s support, she’d never fully comprehended just how ruined she was. That was no longer the case, of course. As Duchess of Hartwell, her new exalted station placed her above recrimination.
Still, Augustus’ words reverberated in her mind. They know you are mine. He’d been so certain people would assume she belonged to him, even though she and the earl had not seen each other in years.
“There you are.” Hart’s avuncular voice sounded behind her. “Hiding out from me in the gardens?”
Willa turned to watch her new husband stride toward her. He dressed casually in a country style, his white shirt open at the neck, with snug brown breeches falling into slightly worn Hessian boots, unlike the gleaming black ones he usually donned. His midnight hair was tied back and he looked impeccable as usual.
Trying to harden herself against his appealing presence, Willa greeted him coolly. “I was just coming to find you.”
His forehead lifted. “Oh? Dare I hope this means our wedding trip can continue in earnest? Let’s lock ourselves away and I’ll bathe you this time.” A wicked gleam lit his eyes. “Naturally, I’ll want to concentrate on all of the difficult-to-reach places.”
Ignoring the heat that rose in her, she said, “What exactly was said about me at Brooks?”
Hart’s eyes narrowed as if he expected another verbal assault from her. “Must we really get into this again?”
“This is not in reference to your crude assumptions about my character,” she said. “I have a right to know what is being said about me.”
“Very well. If you will do me the pleasure of walking with me, we can try to work this out together.” He offered his arm.
Ignoring it, she moved ahead. “Fine, let us walk.” She peered up at him, squinting against the sun. “What exactly are they saying about me at Brooks?”
To his credit, he did not hesitate to respond. “I believe the most cutting remarks alluded to the fact that you had been utterly and completely compromised by Bellingham.”
She halted, stunned by the directness of the assault. “Those were the exact words?” She felt the blood drain from her face.
“I could not make them up,” he said gently. “I, too, am interested to learn where these ruinous innuendos began. Although I already have a fair idea of their source.”
“It must have come from Augustus himself,” she said, more to herself than to him.
He took her hand in his and they continued walking. Lost in thought, she did not offer any resistance. “I gather Bellingham was not so bold as to say he ruined you outright,” Hart said. “There is the question of the bloodstained sheets at the inn. Word of something so damning could have spread like the plague. Which I now believe is exactly what Bellingham intended.”
A tightening sensation pulled across her chest. She stopped again and faced Hart. “I have not been completely honest with you about that night.”
“You are under no obligation to enlighten me.” He squeezed her hand. “I know everything about you that I need to. You owe me no explanations.”
She paced away from him, wrapped up in memories, preparing to tell Hart what she had never before revealed to anyone. “He did ask it of me. Augustus said we could be together forever if we anticipated the marriage bed. He said our parents would relent to save our honor but, in the end, I could not go through with it. And when he kissed me, I found it beyond repugnant.”
His face brightened. “Beyond repugnant?”
“At first, he wouldn’t accept my refusal.” She hugged herself as the memories shivered through her. “I was terrified and I fought him. We struggled and I remember slapping him.” She turned to face Hart. “That’s why your chambermaid saw me crying. I did leave in tears. But nothing happened beyond that kiss. Of course, I went to an inn alone with a man. I was behind closed doors with him. That alone is enough to ruin me. I thought you understood that.”
A muscle ticked in Hart’s jaw. “Bellingham comprehended it. Even though you could not go through with his scheme, he still made certain to get the results he wanted.”
Realization washed over her. “He put the blood there to ensure the rumors.”
“The chambermaid said there was a broken glass in the room.”
“You think he cut himself purposely?”
“He wanted the story to be convincing. If he sought to keep you for himself, it was a small price to pay.”
“That might explain why I received no worthy marriage offers,” she said. “He
ensured everyone would believe he took my innocence. He made certain no one else would want me.”
“Except me. I wanted you no matter what occurred in the past.” He brought her fingers to his lips. “Sometimes I wonder if I would be capable of the same level of deceit if it meant holding on to you forever.”
Willa wasn’t paying attention to him. She was still unraveling the mystery that had cast an unknown shadow over her for so long. “His father threatened to cut him off. So he decided to find a way to make me wait for him.” She shivered. “It almost worked. The minute he came into the title, Augustus came for me.”
“Unluckily for him, I managed to insert myself between the two of you.”
Willa gave a harsh laugh. “There is a delicious irony to it. He sought to compromise me to keep me and he lost me because you ended up compromising me instead. It would all seem so silly if it did not have such dire consequences.”
Anger bubbled up in her. Augustus had robbed her of so much. He had tried to control her destiny. “He cast this dark cloud over my life, even worse than I had ever imagined. I could do nothing to defend myself. Instead I flitted around like an idiot while everyone laughed at me behind my back.” She looked up at Hart. “Who knows what course my life would have taken if he had not interfered?”
His features hardened. “Perhaps you’ve discovered you needn’t have married me. Even I can see this marriage is an inadvertent result of Gus’ scheming.”
“I should like to return to Camryn Hall post haste.”
A muscle in Hart’s cheek ticked, revealing his surprise. “Your family is not there. They’ve already removed to town for the Season.”
“I’ll enjoy the solitude.” The words were dispassionate, but her mind was in chaos. “I need time to myself to think, to sort all of this out.”
“No.” The words were strong. “People will talk if you remove yourself to your family’s country seat so soon after the wedding.”
“I am long past having a care for my reputation.”
“I am not. I’ve only just begun,” he said. “Which means I won’t let you give the ton’s crows reason to gossip about you.”
“Do you fear they’ll think the rumor true?” she asked in a wintry voice. “That I tricked you into marriage with a fallen woman?”
“We will go to London as soon as you wish, but we shall go together.” His granite tone brooked no opposition. “You won’t have to suffer my company unduly. The house in town is large. For the most part, you can keep to yourself. However, we will make the necessary appearances in public to keep rumors at bay.”
“You have no right to command me. For once, I want control of my own life.”
“As your husband, I have every right to command you. However, I will do what I can to accommodate your need for independence. I shall place your dowry in a private bank account that will be yours alone to use as you see fit. You shall have complete autonomy.”
“Except when it comes to my own person. Augustus will be in town. I wish to avoid him.”
“The days of Gus Manning impacting where you go and what you do are over, my dear.” He bent to skim a light kiss on her silken cheek. “And I promise you, his day of reckoning is close at hand.”
Chapter Fourteen
Their return to London was welcomed by family and greeted with the expected curiosity on the social circuit. With the little Season just getting under way, the Duke of Hartwell and his new bride were much sought after guests. Willa accepted enough invitations to keep gossip at bay. When in public, she retained the polite aloof demeanor she usually assumed during the Season. Hart made certain ladies of the ton noted how gallant and attentive the duke was to his new duchess.
In private, Willa kept to herself, sometimes taking meals with Hart, but often dining alone in her rooms. Hart made himself scarce, confining himself to his study where work kept him busy, or visiting Brooks. The state of affairs with Willa grated on him, but he was determined to give his wife the wide berth she craved, despite his extreme frustration that he and Willa had not shared a bed since their wedding night.
About a week after their return, Hart made a decision he’d been grappling with since they’d learned the truth about Bellingham. He couldn’t hold his wife hostage. He came to the realization that she would never belong to him unless she chose to.
Willa had accused Gus of keeping her in a cage for his own amusement. Guilt stung Hart. Was he now doing the same thing? It was a benign confinement to be sure, but Willa was a rare and beautiful bird who had grown weary of being in her cage. She needed to be set free. Anguish seared his chest. He alone could give Willa what she truly needed. Even if it meant giving up what mattered most to him.
…
Willa changed for bed and dismissed her maid, exhausted by the pretense she’d had to keep up in the weeks since returning from Fairview. A tap sounded on the other side of the door which adjoined Hart’s rooms to hers. She jumped up from her dressing table, startled by the unexpected visit. Hart had not come to her rooms since their wedding night. Perhaps he’d decided to demand his husbandly rights. Her heart stumbled at the thought.
Hart let himself in. His angular features took on a harsh cast tonight and the expression on his face was one Willa could not quite interpret. He still wore his dark evening clothes, only his cravat was gone and his starched white shirt was open at the neck, revealing the dark hairs licking his throat.
He sat on the side of her bed. “I’m letting you go.”
Willa froze. “What?”
“This is clearly a marriage you do not want. As much as I’ve wanted to deny it, we wouldn’t be here if it were not for Bellingham’s machinations. You’d likely have married or chosen a different course long ago.”
After feeling emotionally numb for the past month, she was surprised to feel anxiety bubble up in her. “You are divorcing me?”
“I could keep you tied to me. Lord knows I want to.” His tone was bleak. “I thought I could be happy just to have a small piece of you. But I can’t. I’m too greedy. Each day I see the light in you diminish a little more.”
All at once, Willa felt chilled. A barren sensation sliced straight through her bones. She moved to the fireplace, trying to draw its heat into her.
“If it’s a divorce you want, I will give it to you. But a divorce would be a disaster for both of us,” Hart said from behind her. “What I am proposing is an understanding that will all but give you your freedom. I will set you up in your own house. A portion of money has already been set aside to handle household expenses and staff. You also have your dowry. It will give you the independence you crave.”
Willa tried to squelch the pang in her chest. She turned to face Hart, the heat from the hearth licking at her back. “And if I choose to bring another man into my bed?”
Hart winced. “I’m releasing you from our agreement in regards to outside affairs.”
Willa examined Hart’s face. “And you will seek comfort elsewhere?”
He exhaled, pushing to his feet, moving toward her like a man who carried a heavy burden. “I’m no saint, Willa. I would prefer to have you in my bed. Always.” He smiled softly at the unruly curl that had fought its way out of Willa’s nightcap. He moved the strand aside. “But if I can’t have you, I will look for someone to give me warmth.”
Jealousy shot up her spine. “And what of heirs?”
“It is up to you. I hope you will agree to share my bed often enough for us to have children. And after we have an heir, I won’t expect you to come to my bed ever again.” He placed the back of his hand against her cheek. “I release you. As completely as I can.”
Pain paralyzed Willa’s chest at the thought of losing him. “Is this what you want?”
He leaned in and brushed a kiss on her lips. The impact of it sparked through her, burning his touch into her memory. “It is what I desire for you. I want you to be happy. To be free to make your own choices.” Hart pulled away and walked back to his chamber, closin
g the adjoining door on any hope of a true marriage.
Willa stood watching for the door for several minutes as the full meaning of Hart’s words sank in. At long last, the freedom she’d craved was finally hers. So why did it feel as though someone had driven a blade into her heart?
…
Hart sat near the hearth in his chambers and took a swig of brandy. He closed his eyes, feeling the hard burn against his eyelids. He’d let her go. It had taken everything in him to release her, but part of him actually felt relieved.
He needed to move on. He would find an accommodating mistress. Not an actress or singer. He was done with that. Maybe a nice widow. Someone almost respectable with whom he could build a future, even if she couldn’t be his wife. He’d seen many other men do it. Their wives were their duty—their mistresses the women they truly desired. They even had families with their amours. Provided nicely for them.
Lost in thought, he didn’t hear the adjoining door open. He didn’t notice Willa until she was almost in front of him, wearing a diaphanous white night rail he’d never seen before. Backlit by the fire, the gown left little to the imagination. He could see the clear outline of Willa’s soft full breasts—punctuated by the awakened pearls at the center of them. She wore no nightcap, allowing her full curls to fall about her shoulders. A familiar rush of desire blasted to his groin.
She knelt down in front of him, between his legs, and her immense eyes glittered in the firelight. “You married me even though you thought I had given myself to another man. Tell me why.”
Aching for her, he reached out to wrap a silken dark curl around his finger. “Because no woman compares to you.”
“A man in your position can have anyone.”
“I want you.”
Her eyes glistened. “You have me.” She began to pull off Hart’s white linen shirt. His body reacted instantly. He inhaled in surprise, bringing his hands down over hers to stop their progress. “Willa—”
She pushed his hands aside and continued her efforts. The brush of her fingers against his skin made his body hungry and hard. “I’m here, Hart. Isn’t this what you want?”
