An Undomesticated Wife

by Jo Ann Ferguson

  “I urge you always to be honest. The truth serves us well.” Except when I have to pretend I am excited to be here.

  “What is this?” She held up gossamer pantaloons. “I had no idea where you might wish them to be stored.”

  “They are—”

  “Totally unsuitable to be seen in this house,” interrupted a deeper voice.

  Regina raised her chin as she met her husband’s furious eyes. Taking the silk, she folded it and handed it back to Beatty. “You are quite correct on that, my lord. Such a garment does not belong in London.”

  “I am glad that we finally agree on something.”

  “Papa is fond of saying there is a first time for everything.”

  “And a last?”

  She could not keep from smiling. “I hope not.”

  “As I do.” Lord Daniston closed the hallway door behind him. When he glanced at the abigail, Beatty bowed her head, then drew the door to the dressing room closed behind her.

  Although she was aware of how improperly she was dressed to be receiving a stranger, Regina reminded herself that she could not for a moment forget that this stranger was her husband. “I must thank your father for allowing me to use this fine room. I do enjoy a view of flowers.”

  “Do you?” He laughed, but with scanty humor. “Father will not be pleased to hear that. Most of them make him sneeze, so he has been waging a war of words with Grandmother for as long as I can remember to have the plants dug up. She refuses, because she reminds him that it is de rigueur for a townhouse to have a patch of garden.”

  “I will say nothing to him, if it would cause him distress.”

  “How kind of you.”

  She fought not to bristle at his sarcasm. Watching him prowl about the room, she refrained from asking him what he sought. She caught a glimpse of his face in profile and wondered how he would look with a genuine smile. Although he had laughed several times since they had been introduced, she had not seen him smile. Not a real smile that came from the heart.

  “Grandmother has suggested that I allow you a few days to recover from the ordeal of your journey,” Marcus said, his back to her, exactly as it had been when they spoke in the garden earlier.

  “My journey was mostly pleasant.”

  “She fears it has sapped you.”

  “I am stronger than I might appear.”

  “Is that so?” He faced her, and she took an involuntary step backward when she saw fury in his eyes again.

  Recalling his warning—for now she assumed that was what it had been—about the Whyte family temper, she was confident that she had done nothing to unsettle him. “Mayhap, my lord,” she said, “it would be best if you spoke plainly of what you wish to say.”

  “Plainly? I thought the world of the diplomat was filled with half-truths and false compliments.”

  “Not when respect exists.” She hesitated, then added, “As I had hoped it would between us.”

  He turned, grasped her hand, and pulled her to the strong wall of his chest. “You are my wife, so there should be nothing between us.”

  She gasped as dozens of feelings flowed along her, each a contradiction. Warmth and ice, anticipation and fear, bewitchment and apprehension all swirled in a mad mosaic of bewilderment … and delight.

  His hands gentled on her as his arm slid around her, drawing her even nearer. She could not free herself from the mesmerizing glow in his eyes when his fingers roved along her back in a lingering caress. He touched her lips with his fingertip and smiled as lightning fled through her. Slowly, although her pulse beat like storm waves on a shore, her hands rose along the sleeves of his dark coat toward his shoulders. No one demanded that he hold her like this, save for her heart.

  His fingers combed upward through her hair as he tilted her mouth below his. The brush of his breath against her face was flavored sweetly with wine, its fragrance urging her ever closer.

  “Dear wife,” he whispered, “there is no need for us to snap at each other like two children coveting the same toy.”

  “No,” she answered as softly as she gazed up at his lips that were descending toward hers.

  “We would prove we were on the wrong side of the hedge when brains were handed out not to make the best of this bad situation.”

  Choking back a gasp, Regina spun away. She fisted her hands on her hips as she tried to free herself from the pleasing captivity. “Make the best of a bad situation? Is that what you think our marriage is, my lord?”

  “I should not have put it in such terms, but …” He set his foot on the window bench and leaned his elbow on his knee. Reaching out, he closed the window. “You have misunderstood me, I fear, for I am as eager as you to make this marriage work.”

  “Why?”

  His brows arched, then lowered into a fierce frown. “I thought you needle-witted enough to realize what I wish from this marriage.”

  “I would rather you tell me, my lord. You have spoken of your father’s reasons for this marriage. Again, I implore you: speak plainly.”

  Standing straighter, he came around the bench and paused behind her. When she faced him, he put his hand onto her shoulder. His broad fingers brushed against her bare skin, and a flash of something warm and sweet swept through her. She fought her own reaction, for it would not do for her to allow him to see how much his touch unsettled her.

  She guessed he did not feel the same, for his voice remained even as he said, “Our marriage is no different from many among the ton. We have wed because I need an heir and your family wished to be aligned with one of good standing among the Polite World.”

  “My family has much to be proud of.” She met his eyes evenly as she said tautly, “You need only recall the delicacy of my father’s work and how the Regent depends on him in a very unstable situation.”

  “What your father wishes is no longer relevant, for you are my wife.”

  “As you have said before.”

  He swore under his breath. “You are cantankerous. I prefer a gentler woman in my bed.”

  “And I prefer a man who thinks of a wife as something other than the source of begetting an heir.”

  He clasped her at the waist and brought her to him as he whispered, “I could think of many things other than an heir on our first night together. There are many pleasures for you to learn.”

  “Marcus, release her this very instant! You must leave here at once.”

  Regina glanced over her shoulder to see the dowager duchess in the doorway. The old woman’s face was long with a frown. Leaning on a fancily carved cane, she hobbled into the room.

  “Grandmother,” Lord Daniston said with more restraint than Regina had thought he would show, “that is a strange command from the very woman who was urging me to kiss my bride only a short time ago.”

  “She is not your bride.”

  Regina’s heart leapt and ached at the same moment. Hating the curious ambivalence within her, she stepped back from her husband and said, “Your Grace, if you will recall, Lord Daniston and I are married by proxy.”

  “Do not treat me as if I am bereft of any sense,” the old woman said, striking her cane against the floor. “That idiocy was nothing that would be recognized by the élite. Why, I was not even present, Marcus, when you signed those papers that were sent to Africa. Without a grand wedding, which is the due of the next Duke of Attleby and his wife, there can be no marriage.”

  “Grandmother, the ceremony was legal. It—”

  “Do not argue with me on this. Your father agrees with me that the best way to deal with this unsuitable situation is to have a real wedding here.” A sly smile slipped across her wrinkled face. “Of course, until such time, you must not live as husband and wife. It would not be right to have your heir, Marcus, arrive too soon after the marriage ceremony. Therefore, I ask you again to take your leave at once.”

  Regina thought Lord Daniston would continue arguing, but he said, “I believe I should speak with Father.”

  “His mind is f
irm on this.”

  “You mean yours is.” He smiled.

  “Better it would be to say that your father and I agree on this matter.”

  “I shall, therefore, endeavor to change both of your minds on this.”

  The dowager duchess grinned wickedly. “It will probably take all night.”

  “Then I would be wise to begin.” Taking Regina’s hand, he raised it to his mouth.

  Her knees wobbled with a longing for his mouth against hers again when the brush of his lips seared her skin. Not in a perfunctory buss, but with the desire that lit the fires in his eyes. When he bowed his head toward her, she fought her hands which yearned to rise and encircle his shoulders again. An odd emptiness opened within her as he walked out without looking back.

  The dowager duchess patted Regina’s cheek as her smile became warmer. “I shall have your dinner brought to you here. Rest, child. You will start your lessons tomorrow.”

  “Lessons?”

  “In how to be the wife Marcus needs.” The dowager duchess lurched toward the door. “Never forget that I intend to get my grandson that very thing. The wife he needs.”

  “I can’t—”

  “Oh, I think you shall do just fine.” She winked. “You have so far.”

  Regina stared after her in astonishment. She wondered how long it would take before she figured out even a single member of this peculiar family. She had, she reminded herself as she sank onto the bench, a lifetime to find out.

  Four

  Regina was awake when Beatty came in the next morning. In fact, she had not closed her eyes all night. She had sat in a chair by the window and tried to think of a way to escape from this intolerable marriage. No answers had come to her.

  She guessed the dowager duchess had reasons she had not revealed last night for insisting on a second wedding ceremony when it clearly was not necessary. She was Lord Daniston’s legal wife. Although she was curious, Regina did not want to probe too deeply. This delay might allow her to see Marcus’s better attributes, if he had any.

  He must. Papa had been so eager to explain how this marriage was certain to bring Regina happiness.

  As Beatty brought her clothes and helped her dress, Regina fought back tears. Dear Papa! She wished he was here to advise her and to see what a bumble broth her marriage was. How could Papa, who was normally so astute, have been so mistaken?

  “You shall enjoy the Whyte family,” Papa had told her while Kamil oversaw the servants packing her bag. “The Duke of Attleby has garnered the respect of many of those I respect. He is well-read and versed in the ways of politics. You will enjoy conversing with him.”

  “And his son?”

  “I cannot doubt that he will be no different from his father. The family has shared many of the interests our family has shared, although the obligations of their title have kept them from enjoying the travels we have.”

  Regina had never gotten a more conclusive answer about Marcus Whyte, and now she had to wonder if Papa had used his skills as a diplomat to keep her from seeing the truth. She could not believe he would have insisted on this marriage if he had thought she would be unhappy, but that was what she was.

  Worse, for she was miserable.

  “Her Grace told me that you should come down to the breakfast parlor at your earliest convenience,” Beatty said with a strained smile. “The family enjoys a morning meal together.”

  “I will go right down.” She was sure anything was better than standing here and seeing the pitying expression on her abigail’s face. If she spoke the truth and said that she was glad that Lord Daniston had not been with her last night, she risked insulting his whole family. She must tread cautiously.

  “My lady …”

  Regina turned. “Yes, Beatty?”

  “I thought I should speak to you of the rumors floating belowstairs about the long conference between His Grace, Her Grace, and his lordship last night.” Beatty wrung her hands in her apron, then hurried to ask, “Is it true, my lady? Are you annulling your marriage?”

  “No.” She patted the abigail’s arm. “Not to my knowledge, and I think Lord Daniston would give me the courtesy of letting me know such a thing if it was on his mind.”

  “’Tis odd, then, that Lord Daniston did not …” Beatty flushed.

  “Yes,” she agreed. “It is odd.” She said nothing else as she walked out into the hallway. She had to leave before she could add that everything about the Whytes and their household was peculiar.

  Sun splashed on the stairs as Regina descended to the first floor. From the ground floor below, she could hear the servants’ muted conversations. A pulse of homesickness nearly suffocated her. So many mornings she had walked through her father’s house and heard the light voices of the servants. When she had gone to sit in the courtyard, Kamil had brought rich, strong coffee to wake her to the day.

  She glanced toward the back of the house and the garden, but she could not seek that refuge today. Instead she must see what she might do to patch up the rents she had created in her marriage yesterday.

  The breakfast parlor was a comfortably sized room which had been painted a blue only a shade darker than her gown. Heavy furniture was arranged to make the most of the sunshine flowing through the large window. In the very center of the room, a large oval table was surrounded by a dozen chairs. She guessed most of them were never used.

  All three of the Whytes were camouflaged by newspapers and shadowed by servants. She recognized Lord Daniston by the glint of light off his ebony hair, but could see nothing else of him save for the pale tan of his coat sleeve. The dowager duchess sat across from him, her bejeweled fingers holding the paper so high that even the top of her head was screened. By default, the third person must be the duke.

  “Good morning,” Regina said softly.

  All three newspapers dropped in unison. The duke and the dowager duchess smiled, but her eyes were drawn to Lord Daniston. No smile lightened his face or lessened the intensity in his gaze. She resisted toying with her dress because she knew she looked much better than she had upon her arrival. Yet she was unsettled by his stare.

  “Good morning, Regina,” answered the dowager duchess when no one else said anything. Her hands flew out as she spoke, and the footman behind her hastily stepped back. “Do come in and join us.”

  Lord Daniston rose and came toward her. She knit her fingers together, as she was torn between fearing that he would kiss her and hoping that he would. When his lips brushed her cheek as he bid her a good morning, she forced a smile. He was making it clear that he intended to continue in this farce of a wedding. She must pretend to be pleased as well.

  The duke held up his cheek. When she hesitated, Lord Daniston’s hand in the center of her back gave her a not-so-gentle shove in his father’s direction. Compliantly, she kissed the duke’s rubbery cheek.

  “What a charming child you are,” the duke said as he stood and pulled out the chair for her between him and his son. “You look well-rested. I trust you enjoyed a good night’s sleep.”

  “I was very tired after my journey,” she answered, not wanting to lie. She stifled a yawn as the enticing idea of sleep embraced her. She was sure that, if she stretched out on her bed now, she would find sleep as impossible to attain as it had been during the past night.

  “You shall need to be well-rested with all the work ahead of us,” the dowager duchess said as her grandson sat. “I think we all are more comfortable now with the idea of what lies ahead of us.”

  Regina glanced at her husband. His smile had not wavered, but neither had the emotion in his eyes. Not for the first time, she wondered what had been said among the Whytes last night while she had been in her room. She had heard no raised voices, but that meant nothing. The thick walls of this townhouse would shield much.

  Food was brought for her, more food than she could possibly eat. Each serving lad was urged by the dowager duchess to add another spoonful to Lady Daniston’s plate. Staring in dismay at the pile sta
cked in front of her, Regina was surprised when Lord Daniston put his hand over hers in her lap.

  When she looked at him, he whispered beneath his grandmother’s conversation with the footman, “Humoring Grandmother is the first thing you must learn. She has her own ways, and no one gainsays her.”

  “Not even you?”

  “Only on a few occasions.” His eyes twinkled with what she guessed was the memory of past mischief.

  The dowager duchess’s voice kept Regina from replying. “This very morning, I shall arrange for the banns to be read in the church.”

  “Is that necessary?” the duke asked, surprising Regina, for she had thought he was interested only in the eggs on the plate before him. “They are legally married, Mother.”

  “What is the purpose of doing something unless it is done right?” She stabbed a slab of butter and spread it across a biscuit. “There shall be no question of the legality of this marriage when I am through with it. Now, as I was saying, I shall speak with Reverend Cavanaugh about posting the banns and having them read this very Sabbath.” Her smile became a frown when her grandson reached for his newspaper again. “Marcus, do wait to read the news. There are so many things we need to discuss.”

  “I leave all the facets of this wedding in your capable hands, Grandmother.” He flashed her a smile. “It is apparent to me that you have the plans well underway.”

  Wagging her finger at him, she chided, “Do not try to fill me with that sap, young man. I shall not have Regina shoulder the burden of everything so you can flit off to enjoy yourself with—”

  Regina froze as the old woman clamped her lips closed and the duke sucked in a deep breath. Looking from His Grace’s suddenly gray face to the dowager duchess’s frown to Lord Daniston who was opening his newspaper, she instantly knew what had happened. The elderly woman had been about to say something that should be left unsaid.

  Flit off to enjoy yourself with …? With whom? The only answer was obvious. Her husband must be keeping a high flyer somewhere in Town.