A Duke for Miss Townsbridge (The Townsbridges, #4)

by Barnes, Sophie

  Speaking past the sudden knot in his throat, he thanked her for her thoughtfulness.

  “It seemed like a good explanation for my coming here in case someone saw me.”

  Of course. She’d risked so much in order to come here – to see to him and make sure he was well. Feeling awful, he told her gently, “I will escort you back so I’m there to help in case anyone gives you trouble.”

  “That’s really not ne–”

  “As your future husband, I absolutely insist.” Without waiting for her to argue the point, he set the basket aside, grabbed her hand, and led her back the way she’d come. While the need to protect her compelled him, there was also a strong desire to get her out of his garden as fast as possible so he could give his emotions free reign. So although he experienced a brief pang of regret when he took his leave moments later, relief swiftly followed.

  Returning to the folly, he snatched up the basket she’d brought, delivered it to the kitchen, and went back to work, pouring every piece of fear he harbored into each rock he carried.

  Chapter Seven

  THE LAST THREE WEEKS had gone by in a whirl.

  Sarah looked at herself in the cheval mirror while Anna adjusted the white lace bow at the back of her pale blue muslin gown.

  “I cannot believe you are getting married today,” Athena said from her position on Sarah’s bed. “It will be odd to be the only child left.”

  “I’m sure Mama will manage to keep you busy,” Sara said with a hint of mischief. “Prepare for her to corner you tomorrow with a list of suitors she’ll want you to consider.”

  “Heaven help me,” Athena groaned. “It really isn’t fair. I’m two years younger than you, so I ought to be allowed at least that much time before I begin considering marriage. Perhaps I should visit Charles and Bethany for a month or two. After that, I can stay with James and Abigail for a bit before stopping by Will and Eloise and finally you and Brunswick.”

  “Sounds rather perfect, actually. By the time you’ve finished making the circuit, the next Season will have begun and Mama will be here waiting for you to step out and make a fantastic impression.”

  “Now I know you’re teasing me, Sarah. I never make a fantastic impression on anyone. In fact, the last time I made any impression at all was rather disastrous.”

  Sarah set her mouth in a firm line and turned to face her. “That was years ago and it all worked out well in the end.”

  “I’m not sure Langdon, or rather, Darlington as he’s now called, would agree,” Athena grumbled.

  Sarah wasn’t sure either. The marquess had been Charles’s good friend. He’d also been engaged to Bethany when Charles had met her. If it hadn’t been for Athena, Bethany would have done the socially correct thing and married Darlington.

  “He didn’t love her, Athena. And she did not love him. It was to be a marriage of convenience and would have made at least two people desperately unhappy.” Surely that ought to be some consolation.

  “Maybe. I know Charles and Bethany are perfectly suited, and I’m glad they were able to end up together. In fact, I dare say that in spite of the scandal I caused, I would do it again in a heartbeat.”

  Sarah smiled. “I know you would. You’re a romantic, Athena, and you cannot bear to see those you love heartbroken.”

  “It’s true,” Athena said. She bit her lip. “But I still feel guilt over what Darlington went through. He was humiliated in front of so many people. I’m sure he still hates me. Wherever he is.”

  There was probably little doubt about that, Sarah mused. It had been six years since the incident, and as far as she knew, none of them had seen or heard from Darlington since. It was as if he’d disappeared off the face of the earth.

  “Never mind him,” Sarah said. Today was her wedding day and while she knew Athena did not relish going to church, she was determined for her to find some joy in it. “There are far more important matters for you to consider right now, like your lack of a perfectly crafted primrose hairpin.”

  Athena gave her a puzzled look while Sarah went to retrieve a small box from her dressing table. She handed it over and watched as Athena pushed open the lid to discover the yellow enamel petals surrounding a golden center.

  “This is stunning,” Athena said as she picked the pin up and held it between her fingers for closer inspection. “Thank you, Sarah.”

  “I’ve always believed yellow to be your color. It suits your vibrant spirit.”

  Athena stood and gave Sarah a hug after which Anna helped place the hairpin. Once this had been accomplished, Sarah gave herself one final look in the mirror before leaving her bedchamber to embark on her life’s greatest journey yet. She hadn’t made any further attempts at getting Matthew to open up about the pain he’d once suffered. He’d told her enough for now, enough to fill her head with bone-chilling images of his younger self being made to look at the lifeless remains of his family, and enough to let her know that he was dealing with far more than grief. It would in all likelihood take a lifetime to undo the damage that had been done to his mind. Along with a great deal of patience and endless amounts of love.

  Sarah wasn’t too worried, because after today, she would be able to give him all three.

  A DEEP SENSE OF RELIEF and rightness filled Matthew’s chest, allowing his heart to beat with greater ease than ever before. He’d done it. Somehow, in spite of her initial aversion toward him, he’d managed to make Sarah Townsbridge his wife.

  “Are you nervous?” he asked.

  “No. Not at all. Quite the opposite.”

  Jittery apprehension had tripped through him while he’d waited for her at the church. His stomach had felt like a maelstrom, spinning around and tumbling over until she’d appeared. And then, from that moment on, every disquiet within him had settled. She’d been stunning and, to his immense satisfaction and detriment, she’d looked overjoyed - radiant - with a beaming smile and sparkling eyes directed solely at him.

  I love you.

  The words had haunted him every second of every day since she’d said them. Even now, they threatened to reignite the self-loathing he’d struggled with until the vows had been spoken, the deed effectively done with no way back save for a swift annulment. There would be no such thing. Not after the night they were going to share once he got her out of her lovely gown. Already, the thought of what was about to transpire heated his blood and tightened his muscles. He’d dreamt of it countless times since their interlude in the garden.

  Setting his empty glass of port aside on the dresser, he removed his jacket and began untying his cravat.

  Sarah stared at him while her cheeks turned a bright shade of pink. She sipped the remainder of her drink - a bit of fortification he’d offered to calm her nerves. Only she wasn’t really nervous. Was she? He knew her well enough by now to be able to tell, and what he detected was closer to anticipation and curiosity, which only ignited his own desire further.

  The cravat came loose and he tossed it aside, then went to work on his waistcoat buttons. Holding her gaze, he shucked the garment, untucked his shirt and pulled it over his head in one fell swoop. She licked her lips, and his stomach clenched.

  “You’re stunning,” she said, allowing her gaze free roam to inspect every inch of his naked torso. Moving closer to where he stood, she paused and raised one hand to within an inch of his chest, allowing it to hover there while her eyes snapped back to his. “May I?”

  Matthew could only nod.

  And then her fingertips brushed the skin above his sternum in a slow downward stroke. He sucked in a breath as they travelled lower, exploring the ridges of his abdominal muscles before smoothing over his arms and shoulders.

  “I never imagined a real man could be so sculpted, but you are as well defined as the Greek gods described in the myths I used to read as a child.” Her eyes met his while she placed her palm over his heart. “My very own Hercules brought to life. Forged, I believe, from years of strenuous work.”

  Matthew
swallowed while doing his best to maintain his carefully held control. Her words were soft, her touch exquisite, and she herself as tempting as a siren. If he wasn’t careful, she’d be his undoing. And yet, he had no choice but to lower his mouth to hers and savor the pleasure he found in her kiss.

  She was his, even if he could never fully be hers, and he was about to take advantage.

  Denying the crisis of conscience attacking his soul, he swept his arms around her and held her close, drowning himself in the ecstasy she offered - allowing himself to forget. His fingers tugged the bow loose at the back of her gown, then worked the fastenings so the dress could slip from her shoulders without resistance.

  When it pooled at her feet, he spun her around, kissing the side of her neck while undoing her stays. The garment fell to the floor, followed soon after by her chemise. Casting a glance at his cheval mirror, Matthew let himself feast on his wife’s incredible beauty. Perfectly curved and proportioned, she was everything he’d dreamed of and more.

  Inhaling the sweet scent of roses that clung to her hair, he gave his hands all the freedom they craved to explore. She didn’t resist. Instead, she leaned back against him and sighed in response to his touch.

  “Sarah.” He could not stop from whispering her name.

  Her gaze met his in the glass and his desire flared. Seeing her like this, dressed in only her stockings and slippers while giving herself up to his ministrations, was without doubt the most alluring thing he’d ever witnessed. It unleashed a possessive streak within him the likes of which he’d never known.

  Driven by need, he swept her up into his arms and carried her to the bed. He laid her down gently, then stepped back so he could continue undressing. She watched while he toed off his shoes and kicked them aside, while he pulled off his hose and then straightened. His body was so damn tense it pulsed with energy, causing his fingers to tremble while they worked the buttons that held his placket.

  “Would you like me to help with that?” Sarah asked.

  Rough laughter escaped his throat. “As much as I value your practical nature, I fear it will cut our evening short if I let you apply it right now.”

  She leaned back with the sort of seductive smile he’d not thought her capable of and watched with unashamed interest while he removed his trousers and smalls.

  Her eyes widened. “Oh my.”

  He smirked while he prowled toward her. “I’ve every intention of making you say that a dozen times more before tomorrow.”

  Her lips parted as if she intended to say something else, but before she was able to do so he’d climbed onto the bed and positioned himself between her thighs. Pressing his mouth to hers in a kiss meant to scorch every cell in her body while driving away the brief pain he knew he would cause, he pushed forward with as much care and consideration as he could manage.

  She gasped, tensing for a brief moment before relaxing once more. Stoking the fire inside her with each kiss and touch, he taught her how to move, how to ask for what she wanted, and finally how to let go.

  Holding her gaze, he watched as she reached for the greatest sensation of all and then felt his own body strain in response to the oncoming rapture. It crashed through him seconds later with violent force, stealing the air from his lungs and robbing his body of strength. Never in his life had he experienced something so overwhelming, wonderful, or frightening.

  He collapsed beside her, too afraid to ponder what it might mean.

  Panting for breath, he lay there a moment while trying to steady the thunderous beats of his heart.

  “That was incredible,” Sarah said. She snuggled up close to him and draped one arm across his chest. “Is it always like that?”

  “For the most part. Yes.”

  Liar.

  “Oh. Well. Since I don’t know any better, I’ll choose to believe it was something special.”

  Matthew forced his mouth shut to hold back the truth. Instead, he eased her arm away, sat up and went to fetch something for them to drink, anything to distract him from the effect his wife had just had on him. Because damn, he’d been with enough women in the past to know this wasn’t normal. This...this was something else.

  Shaking, he re-filled the glasses they’d set aside earlier and returned to the bed. He handed her one and allowed himself to take pleasure in watching her recline against the pillows while she drank. When they’d both finished their drinks and set their glasses aside, she pulled him in for a kiss so tender and sweet it nearly broke his heart.

  “I love you, Matthew.”

  He knew she did. The only problem was, he could not allow himself to love her back.

  Chapter Eight

  A WARM AND LANGUID sensation of pure comfort filled Sarah when she woke the next morning. Eyes closed, she allowed her consciousness to resurface while slowly letting the previous day’s events sift through her mind. A smile touched her lips at the knowledge that she was now married to Matthew. It transformed into a wide grin as she recalled their incredible love making.

  Although he’d told her the experience was always like that, she would forever look back on it as exceptional.

  Stretching, she turned onto her side and opened her eyes in anticipation of watching her husband sleep, only to find his side of the bed empty.

  Sarah blinked, brushed the sleep from her eyes, and pushed herself onto her elbows. The clothes they’d left strewn about on the floor had been gathered and folded in a neat pile on the bench at the foot of the bed. Blowing out a breath, she tried not to feel too disappointed by Matthew’s absence. They’d only spent one night together after all. She’d yet to discover his sleeping habits. Maybe he was an earlier riser than she.

  Allowing herself a slow stretch first, she got out of bed and went to inspect the clock on the fireplace mantle. To her surprise, it was almost ten o’clock. Good heavens. She couldn’t recall the last time she’d risen so late. No wonder Matthew was gone. He’d probably been awake for hours.

  Eager to find him, she put on a clean chemise and rang for Anna to assist her. Time was wasting, precious seconds she longed to spend in Matthew’s company.

  But when she entered his study after taking a quick peek at the parlor, she found the room empty.

  Hmm...

  “May I be of assistance?” an inquisitive voice asked.

  Sarah turned to face Friedriechsen, the butler. “I’m looking for my husband. Do you know where I might find him?”

  “Ah...I’m afraid not.” Friedriechsen kept all emotion carefully tucked away behind a typically butlerish expression. “Perhaps you would care for some breakfast, Your Grace?”

  “Certainly. I must confess I am rather hungry.”

  “If you’ll please follow me.” He led her into the dining room which she was surprised to see now contained a table surrounded by twelve chairs along with a couple of tall cabinets. As if reading her mind, Friedriechsen said, “His Grace had the space furnished in anticipation of your arrival.”

  “Lovely.” Sarah stepped inside and quickly noted that there was only one place setting. She glanced at the butler. “I trust my husband already ate?”

  Friedriechsen inclined his head in a noncommittal manner that wasn’t the least bit helpful. “George and Albert will attend you,” he said in reference to the two footmen who stood at the ready next to the wall. “I’m sure Mrs. Carver, the housekeeper, will want a word with you once you are ready.”

  In other words, the staff expected her to get on with her duties. Sarah sighed, thanked Friedriechsen for his help, and went to claim her seat, which was when she discovered a folded piece of paper bearing her name tucked beneath her cutlery.

  Sarah’s pulse leapt. It could only be from Matthew - perhaps a note of affection, or an invitation to join him after her meal? She waited impatiently for the footmen to finish serving her and to retreat to their positions by the wall before letting herself read what Matthew had written.

  Her heart instantly sank. There were only two lines, neither conta
ining one reference to the wonderful night they’d shared in each other’s arms, the joy he felt over their marriage, or any suggestion for them to savor the romance of newly wedded bliss in each other’s company. Instead it read: Urgent business has called me away. I will return as soon as I am able.

  No indication of what the business might be or where he’d gone, not even a hope to see you soon or an affectionately yours accompanying his name.

  It was so blunt and distant it made Sarah lose her appetite. Nevertheless, she forced herself to eat some eggs and bacon and washed it down with hot tea. Unhappiness wouldn’t do any good. She was the Duchess of Brunswick with a household to run now that Matthew was gone. It was probably best if she got on with it, not only because she wanted to earn the respect of the servants by proving herself capable, but also because keeping busy would stop her from worrying overly much about whether or not Matthew might have used business as an excuse to escape her.

  “Have you still had no word from him?” Sarah’s mother asked two weeks later.

  Sarah had invited her to see the progress she’d made with the parlor. The walls had been painted a soothing shade of sage green which nicely complemented the darker moss-colored curtains. A few carefully selected paintings had been hung on the walls and a table placed in one corner to hold a vase filled with flowers.

  It was still simple without being too masculine or feminine. The furniture, aside from the corner table, remained the same so Sarah hoped Matthew wouldn’t oppose the few changes she had made.

  “No,” she told her mother while selecting a biscuit. “I’m sure he’s very busy.”

  “In my opinion his behavior is inexcusable,” Mama said. “No man is so busy he cannot afford the time required to pen a few words to his new wife.”

  Sarah was inclined to agree. She’d certainly thought as much herself. But nothing in the world would ever compel her to show a lack of support for her husband, so rather than conceding her mother’s point, she said, “He may well have done so, Mama. Considering the amount of time it would take a letter to reach me if he’s gone north, two weeks is not so very long. Especially if he did not write me straight away.”