Forever Yours Series Bundle (Book 1-3)

by Stacy Reid

  Her brother managed to wrest his gaze from his wife to her. “I hope it is good tidings.”

  “I am afraid it will be disagreeable for you,” she said quietly.

  That got Darcy’s attention, and she lowered her knife to stare at Fanny.

  Darcy gave her an expectant look. “What news is this, Fanny?”

  “I’m to be married.”

  Her brother nodded approvingly. “I’m relieved you are reconciled to accepting Lord Worsley. He—”

  “I’ll be marrying Viscount Shaw.”

  Her brother slowly lowered his knife. “I beg your pardon?”

  “I’ve accepted his offer of marriage.”

  “What could have possessed you? That damn bounder dared to approach you behind my back and—”

  “I went to him…”

  Fanny could not ever recall a time her brother appeared so astonished.

  “Your conduct goes beyond the line of what may be tolerated, Fanny. To proposition the man?”

  She delicately spread jam on a slice of toast. "You have been trying to decide my future when you had the privilege to do so for yourself. Though you were compromised with Darcy, you were already halfway in love with her. I do not wish to marry Lord Worsley. I've heard you say on more than one occasion that Sebastian Rutledge is a man of exceptional qualities."

  He scowled in evident frustration. “For a businessman, but he is beneath you.”

  Sadness pierced her. “Do you truly believe this?”

  His closed expression spoke for him.

  Her hand tightened on the handle of the knife. “Why?”

  “He works,” her brother said furiously. "He has spat on his title and his position in society repeatedly since he inherited his title. He does not conduct himself like a gentleman, and that is because he was not raised as one. You marrying such a man cannot be better than marrying an earl. As a countess, you will be better placed—”

  “Forgive me, Colin. I do not mean to interrupt. I believe even you have conferred with the viscount on investment matters. I daresay his acumen for business matters is something to be praised not vilified. It could be argued that any man who works to build his wealth and profession is superior to a man who inherited his fortune and hardly knows what it means to sweat for anything. I cannot perceive that somehow we are above him in any way.” She took a calming breath.

  “Dear God,” her brother muttered, glaring at her. “You are entirely serious. Mamma will be driven to her bed when she hears of this. You’ve always been so high-spirited.”

  Fanny winced. "I thought never to marry and live under your roof until I claim my inheritance. But I can see that is not to happen. You want me gone,” she said softly. “Though it pains my heart, I must accept your wishes.”

  Guilt flashed in his eyes. “I will not release your fortune if you marry someone I do not approve of.”

  “Your management of the trust my money is held in will expire on my five and twentieth birthday. I daresay I can wait until another two years to come into my inheritance fully. Viscount Shaw has an astonishing amount of money, and I already suspect he will be indulgent.”

  Her brother scowled, and Fanny smiled, though there was little to be amused about, for a moment she felt pleased that she had ruffled his feathers. “I never meant to embarrass this family when I ran from the altar. Lord Trent hurt my heart and dashed my hopes, and I am happy I was not persuaded to marry a man who has so little regard for me. Please be happy with my decision. I wish not to part from you with bitter feelings between us.”

  Colin’s expression softened. “And you think Sebastian Rutledge has tender sentiments for you?”

  She recalled the heat in his eyes, the firm press of his lips to hers, the passion that had blazed through her soul. “No, I am not entirely sure what he feels for me. But I am not deceived into any false expectations of what our marriage will be like. It will be one of convenience and mutual respect,” she said quietly.

  “I had not the smallest suspicion you could be so intractable,” her brother finally said.

  Looking up, she mustered a smile. “Then will you give your blessings?”

  “He is very unrefined, Fanny,” he said, clearly trying to deter her still. “Shaw is wealthy to be sure, but I cannot see how you will be happy with a man who exists in a world so far from the elegant life to which you are accustomed. He mixes with stage people, actors, and actresses, one of his closest friend is a doctor I’m told, and another of his business partners used to be a pugilist. They are all common, and he has made no effort to repudiate them and move into more genteel society. I daresay you will be expected to mix with their society as well. Such a notion cannot possibly be welcomed.”

  She flushed, hating the worm of doubt filling her veins. “It isn’t likely I shall receive another offer. I cannot wait years for society to welcome me again.”

  Darcy offered her a small compassionate smile, her eyes no longer cold and distance. “Please do not be hasty. Let’s talk as sisters and devise another plan. Surely the earl may be a better option than Shaw, Fanny?”

  “No…he isn’t.”

  “For heaven sakes, why not?”

  Because Sebastian makes me feel…She pushed back her chair and stood. “Because Viscount Shaw is my choice. We are to marry by special license, and I would be pleased if you both attend. If you will excuse me, I will start my packing today and pen a letter to mamma.”

  Then she walked from the dining room, into the hallway and up the stairs. Her orderly, well-planned life had been turned upside down and Fanny was curiously unafraid. Perhaps she was too foolish not to feel any sort of apprehension, or the intrigue that had long burned in her heart had eclipsed all else.

  No, I shan’t be afraid…for once I’ll live by my desires.

  Chapter 6

  One week later…

  I am Viscountess Shaw.

  The well sprung carriage that she traveled in rattled along the cobbled streets taking her from her brother’s townhouse in Mayfair to her new home in Berkeley Square. Her trunks, portmanteau, valises, and hat boxes had been packed and sent on early in the morning, but it had only been two hours since Fanny had vowed before God, the bishop, her brother, and Darcy that she would cherish and obey Sebastian Rutledge. How had she not realized that obeisance was a part of marriage vows, she had scowled at that bit and hesitated. Sebastian had been amused and had bent and whispered in her ear that he did not expect it of her. Fanny wasn't sure if that revealed the kind of man who thought of others beyond himself and did not believe in slavish adoration or did he perceive her to be the intractable and quarrelsome sort. She hoped it was not the latter. That was not a good opinion a husband should have of his wife.

  She pushed aside the curtains to see they were now on Davies Street. In a few minutes, she would arrive at her new home and the anxieties attacking her were severely unwelcome. Oh, dear what was I thinking? And why was it now she was feeling doubts? The past few days she had felt a sense of relief that she would soon be in her own home, away from the loving restrictions of her brother. She hadn’t dreaded the thought of sharing a home with Lord Shaw, but now her nerves were stretched thin simply because she could not imagine what their life would be like.

  As a marchioness, her role would have been clear. Produce an heir and a spare as soon as possible. And though the notion stung that the marquess would have valued her womb far more than her witty intellect and company, that was the way of their world. She would have expected to run their household and organize the staff with graceful efficiency, plan balls, contribute to charities, and host dinner parties. Sebastian Rutledge had a title, but he wasn’t a gentleman at all. What was she expected to do as his wife? What kind of people would she be called upon to entertain? Where would they live when the season ended? What would be expected of a woman whose husband owned iron foundries? Did he too want an heir and a spare like all the other lords? He hadn’t been reared with that expectation to duty and his bloodlines, an
d the awareness she truly had no notion of the character of the man she had wed had been driven through her heart like a stake.

  Fanny felt distressed that she was only now thinking about those matters. Well in truth these worries had started the night before when she had stared into the canopied curtain above her bed. She had risen with the sun and prepared for her wedding day with mixed emotions of relief and uncertainty.

  Fanny had worn her most fashionable dress, and delight had burned in her veins at his all-encompassing stare. To her mind, his regard had been too direct and intense, and anyone would think the man had already compromised her virtue.

  The wedding breakfast at her brother’s home had been filled with forced joviality, and she had been delighted indeed when it had been over. The most mortifying memory had been when Darcy had taken Fanny into the private parlor and tried to impart to her what her duties as a wife involved in the marriage bed since her mother had not elected to attend.

  She had written her mother of the news of her engagement to Sebastian, and she had only replied that she was prostrate with disappointment over her daughter's choice, and when her nerves had recovered, she would return to town. For now, she would take to the waters of Bath. Fanny had decided to leave her mother’s disappointment and acceptance to time, seeing it would take a while for her mother to recover from losing a marquess as a son-in-law.

  She knew little about men and the intimacies expected in marriage. Somehow Fanny hadn’t imagined she would be expected to reveal her naked body to her husband. Her shock had been so great she had almost fainted. She knew there was to be some kissing of course but nothing much after.

  Since her talk with Darcy, Fanny had existed in an acute state of mortification at her ignorance and worse she did not believe she could appear in the nude before a man she hardly knew and allow him to touch her. According to Darcy, he would do more than touch and Fanny was perturbed. Her sister in law said Colin had protected her delicate nature as much as possible and controlled his base urges. What that meant Fanny had no notion, but the implication that because her husband was not a gentleman, he would not be mindful of her sensibilities was strong.

  The carriage rumbled to a halt, and a quick peek through curtains revealed they were at 57 Berkeley Square. The door was opened, and she allowed her husband who had elected to ride beside the carriage to assist her down.

  “I trust your journey was pleasant?”

  How polite he was. “It was. I do think it could have been better if you had been in the carriage.” The soft admonishment in her words was inescapable.

  His mouth curved ever so slightly. “I believe I was granting you the privacy of your thoughts.”

  She placed her hand on his and walked with him up the few cobbled steps. Her new home was grand and one of the more modern townhouses built. The house had a stone façade and climbed four stories above the lower ground floor. It faced onto Berkeley Square Gardens and had a pretty view from the front windows of a beautiful Grecian style statue of a half-draped lady carrying a large water vase. When they arrived at the door, Fanny was surprised to see Sebastian fishing for keys to open the door.

  Where was the butler?

  He allowed her to precede him inside a most elegant entrance hall. Footsteps echoed, and a sturdy woman hurried toward them, her face wreathed in smiles.

  “Mr. Rutledge, sir I was not expecting you back so soon.”

  Why did she call their lord mister? The lack of proper address was shocking.

  Fanny tugged off her bonnet, and Sebastian assisted her from her coat.

  “Mrs. Campbell, may I present my wife, Mrs. Fanny Rutledge. Fanny Mrs. Campbell is my housekeeper.”

  Fanny smiled, and Mrs. Campbell dipped into a surprisingly graceful curtsy.

  "It's a right pleasure to meet you, milady. I've baked a fruitcake for the occasion and prepared all your favorite dishes, Mr. Rutledge."

  Sebastian politely declined, and Mrs. Campbell hurried away, muttering about sending tea to the drawing room. Fanny peeked at him from beneath her lashes. He was looking down the hallway, a frown splitting his brows. They stood there for several seconds, not speaking or moving.

  She gave him a questioning glance. "Is all well, Sebastian?" An unusual warmth unfurled through her at the intimate use of his name.

  He glanced down, and it was then she noticed how vivid and beautiful the shards of blue in the unfathomable silver of his eyes were. During their brief ceremony, she had made a concentrated effort to stare at his nose. How silly she had been.

  “I find I am confounded about what to do with you.”

  Her lips parted on an inelegant gasp. “I beg your pardon?”

  “I’ve never had a wife before.” His voice held a gently mocking note. At himself?

  Fanny was flustered. She glanced at the hallways clock, noting it was barely one in the afternoon. Then she huffed a breath. “Well, I’ve never had a husband before.” When her world had been scandal free, at this time, she would be walking the grounds of their country manor, calling on neighbors or attending a picnic with friends.

  Their gazes collided, and the humor in his pulled a light laugh from her. “We are absurd,” she gasped.

  “That we are,” he murmured.

  A strange thrill of sensation tore through her. He was so large, masculine and beautiful.

  “Perhaps you will allow me to give you a tour of your new home?”

  Fanny smiled, unable to explain the way her heart started to pound. Unable to prevent herself, she tugged her gloves off and pinched her inner wrist.

  A devastatingly slow and sensual smile slanted his lips. “I’m afraid it is real. We are married.”

  She felt an overwhelming pull between them, and her thoughts invariably turned to their wedding night. She didn’t need to glance down at her palm to know her entire body had flushed scarlet.

  There was a flicker of challenge in his eyes. “I must know the thought that provoked you to blush so becomingly.”

  “No, a lady’s thoughts are her own, and it is not gentlemanly of you to ask after them,” she said primly.

  On odd expression marred his face to vanish quickly.

  “It is very unusual that we are just standing here.”

  He laughed, and it rippled through her.

  “I like that you laugh,” she said softly, then blushed for having said it aloud.

  “I like that you are my wife.”

  Fanny didn’t know how to reply. The possessiveness stamped in his face had a peculiar disquiet slicing through her. Was it that he only saw her as a coveted prize? Unexpectedly his head dipped, and a fleeting kiss brushed against her lips. His mouth tugged at hers, his teeth lightly grazing her lower lip.

  He lifted his head and considered her for several seconds as if he were trying to ascertain what to do with her at this moment. A flash of intuition went through her. The dratted man was thinking of her carnally. She ruthlessly fought the blush, unaccountably not wanting to appear gauche. Fanny stepped around him, trying her best to remain outwardly unaffected. Inside she was burning with heat and uncertainty. This must be desire.

  Sebastian proceeded with the tour of her new home. It was a palatial townhouse even more so than her brother's, boasting over a dozen rooms. The ground floor held a large and elegantly appointed drawing room, a smaller parlor stylishly decorated, a library, Sebastian's study, and an impressive ballroom that opened onto small gardens. There was a large room on the lower floors designated as an exercise room where he'd blithely informed her he boxed and fenced with his friends. She'd never heard of any house having such a room, since one could join Gentleman Jackson's boxing academy on Bond Street, but she had not commented. Fanny was so used to conforming to society's standards, she felt a startled rush of pleasure that he was so very different. It hinted at mysteries to unlock and layers of his character to discover.

  The upstairs boasted seven bedrooms, and she had been pleased to see she had her private chamber. Though the conn
ecting door had loomed threateningly. But the thing that had given her the most pleasure was the music room with a masterpiece of a grand piano. Though she loved to sing, her skill at the pianoforte was lackluster at best, and she was still glad for it. He had taken her up through the servant stairs, and down to the kitchens where she had met the cook, the housekeeper and another maid and a footman. Disconcertingly they all referred to him as mister.

  Now almost an hour later, Sebastian had bid her farewell, and Fanny reclined on her bed, her feelings bewildered. She truly had no notion what marriage to Sebastian Rutledge would be like. But she was now the lady of her own home, which, though beautiful, was understaffed, for she had no intention of opening her own front door whenever she was called upon by whomsoever should come calling. Everything about her marriage was strange and unfamiliar but being a lady of the house was a recognizable role, and one she would delve into as an aid to cope with her new situation. A situation whose greatest trial was just a few hours away. She was not prepared, knew not how to prepare. All Fanny could do was wait for the drumming of her racing heart to slow and for her new husband to show her what he expected of her...

  The feel of the piano keys under the tips of his fingers grounded Sebastian. Then his fingers glided over the smooth ivory, and it was as if he saw the music dancing in the air as the keys came alive. Dinner had been over for almost two hours, he had taken a bath and then succumbed to the lure of the music room and a glass of brandy in the hopes of stifling the uncertainty burning through his gut.

  It was laughable. He was uncertain. Why in God’s name? All he had to do was mount those damnable stairs, open the connecting door, and take his wife…his sweet, beautiful and utterly charming wife in his arms, kiss her, ravish her, and make her irrevocably his.

  Except he had never been with a virgin before, or a woman as delicate as Fanny Dash…Rutledge or was it, viscountess Shaw? With a soft grunt, he sat before the grand piano and played. He allowed the music to be the balm that soothed his soul, to temper his hunger, and to transport him away from the cruel demands pummeling his body.