Marriage Deal with the Devilish Duke

by Millie Adams

  Beatrice tried to imagine what duties that might entail when one was married to a duke who surely had a full household staff. Well, her mother saw to a great many domestic activities.

  ‘I must help run the household,’ Beatrice said.

  ‘Beatrice,’ her mother said. ‘I mean there is more than that. It is only that you will be expected to...’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘There is the marriage bed.’ For a moment her mother’s face took on a distant quality, the expression in her eyes something fond and sad and angry all at once.

  And just when it became too sharp to bear, it eased.

  ‘What happens between a husband and wife in the bedchamber,’ her mother continued.

  Bedchambers. James had said they ought to be caught in a bedchamber. And then she thought of nymphs again.

  And of her governesses. All young and pretty and fluttery and more interested in her father than in her.

  ‘Oh.’

  ‘It is not so unpleasant. Your husband will...know what to do and he will take the lead.’

  ‘Like dancing?’ she asked.

  Though she had been given lessons in dance.

  Her mother looked relieved. ‘Yes. Like dancing. He will lead you, and he will ensure that all is well. As you said, he is a good man.’

  ‘What... What am I to do?’

  She wished she knew...anything. She felt like a great blank space was stretched before her and all she had were scattered images and ideas, and what she wanted to do was demand answers.

  What made a true marriage?

  What happened in bedchambers?

  Why were women so easily ruined?

  Why had she felt like she had when he’d held her?

  She had the sense these things connected, but she did not know how. And it was an endless frustration at what was denied her.

  She had been so protected here at Bybee House. She was never permitted to go to London. Her father had died when she was a girl and her brother remained unmarried. She had seen interactions between unrelated men and women only at the handful of balls her brother had given and even then it was like...

  Watching a pantomime.

  It gave only hints and ideas and just enough to be maddening.

  ‘You can think of other things,’ her mother said. ‘Pleasant things.’

  Think of other things. That was what she did when she was forced to engage in needlework. She thought of anything but the project she was currently involved in, as it was untenably boring.

  It simply did not sound like anything she might want a part in. And was another resounding point in favour of the facade marriage she had been planning with James.

  James.

  She would have to speak to James. He undoubtedly had heard.

  The door to the morning room opened, and their butler appeared. ‘His Grace the Duke of Brigham is here to call upon the Lady Beatrice.’

  Beatrice’s heart gave a start.

  ‘I suppose I should stay and offer to be your chaperon. But I feel it is a trifle too late. I will let you speak with him.’

  Beatrice wanted to call her mother back. Tell her no. Because she was terrified of being alone with Briggs at this current moment. Which was silly, because she had never been terrified before. But she doubted that today he would be bringing her sweets. She doubted it very much.

  He had been in her bedchamber last night, and apparently there was something scandalous in that. Last night she had been too upset to truly consider that.

  He swept into the room, somehow she could tell he was wearing a different coat than the night before, though this too was black. He looked like a storm. And everything in her went still. She couldn’t breathe.

  Her mother dipped her head. ‘Your Grace.’

  ‘Your Grace,’ he returned.

  And then she left them in there. Alone. And the doors closed firmly behind her.

  ‘Briggs...’

  ‘We must speak. About the reality of the situation that we find ourselves in.’

  ‘Of course,’ she said. ‘I know that we do. I know that...’

  ‘You need not fear anything from me. I am aware of your condition.’

  ‘My condition?’

  ‘Your brother has informed me that you were not to bear children.’

  ‘I...’

  ‘I have an heir. Already. That will not be an issue.’

  That made her desperately sad, and she didn’t even know why. Presumably, she and James would not have had children. After all, theirs was to be a presumptive marriage in name only. Not a true marriage, he had said. She did not know exactly what that meant, but she did imagine that it precluded offspring.

  ‘You look distressed.’

  ‘James...’

  ‘Yes. Are you going to try to tell me that you loved him?’

  ‘And if I did?’

  ‘I would not believe you. For you threw yourself into my arms easily enough. You let me hold you. You did not seem to realise I wasn’t your beloved.’ He fixed her with his dark gaze. ‘You would know the arms of the man that you loved, Beatrice.’

  And she remembered the way he had held her again. The way his hand had slid down over her rear, and she felt horrible, scalding heat go through her body.

  Another clue, she felt.

  But he was not asking for a true marriage. He had an heir.

  It is not different than James, then.

  And yet it felt as if it was.

  ‘James is my friend,’ she said. ‘And the idea of marrying for convenient reasons suited him.’

  ‘Marriage is only ever convenience, if it is not, it is an inconvenience.’

  ‘Some people fall in love,’ she said.

  Except she had never known anyone who had. She was quite certain that Eleanor loved Hugh, but there was no reciprocation. And there would be no marriage.

  ‘That is very rare, Beatrice, and even if they do... It does not last.’

  She wondered, then, if he was speaking of his wife. Of course, it hadn’t lasted. She’d died. Beatrice had never known her. She had not seen Briggs at all during his brief marriage. They had been mainly in London. She had never met his son either.

  A strange, twisting sensation assaulted her stomach. His son.

  Would she be his mother?

  Everything was changing so quickly. She had an idea in her mind of what it would be like to marry James. He had said that he wished to travel abroad, and she was quite amenable to that. She had looked forward to seeing Paris, and Italy. To spending time in London. All things that she had never done. She had been cosseted. She had been kept to herself. With him, she knew that she would go to more social engagements. And together they would enjoy themselves. For she did enjoy his company very much. She liked Briggs. She always had. But it was different. It was simply different.

  Everything about him was different.

  One of the many things she had no name for.

  ‘Your brother wishes us to marry here. In the church.’

  She nodded. ‘Yes. That... That would be fine.’ She had not thought about where her wedding would take place. Not even when she had concocted all of this with James. She had not given further consideration to any of this. Not really. She had pictures in her mind of a life. But she had not truly thought about what all this might entail. Yes, she had thought that she had been prepared to face Hugh’s ire, and that was something. But there were so many other things along the way that she had not fully considered.

  She curled her fingers into fists, stabbing at her palms, as she bit the inside of her cheek, looking for that sort of grounding that occurred when she was able to overcome pain.

  But then, there was a strong grip on her chin and she found her face being tilted upwards. She met his eyes. Those dark, shockingly blue eyes,
and she felt...

  Calm. Quiet.

  As if the storm inside her had been halted by the touch of his hand.

  ‘You have nothing to fear from me.’

  ‘I know,’ she said.

  Her breath was at a standstill, her heart suspended in her chest. And then he moved away, and the world began to move again.

  ‘You look frightened.’

  ‘I’m not,’ she said.

  A lie.

  His gaze was cool, and filled with reproach. Unfamiliar. For she had seen Briggs largely in good humour throughout her acquaintance with him. But then, when would she have had occasion to see him otherwise? But she had not seen him look like this. She had known it was there, though. She had sensed it. For had she not seen the way that he drew people to him? That he commanded all the attention in the room.

  Authority. He wore it like other men wore overcoats.

  ‘You are lying to me,’ he said.

  And she wondered if he had been able to read her mind.

  ‘Sorry,’ she said, lowering her head. ‘I did not mean to lie.’

  She looked up at him from beneath her lashes, and she saw something flash in his eyes. Something she had no name for, but that created a strange sensation low in her stomach. ‘You must tell me,’ he said. ‘You must tell me the truth, Beatrice. It is important.’

  ‘I promise. I am frightened. Because I don’t know...’ She searched for the right word. But there really was only one. ‘Anything.’

  He chuckled. ‘You need not concern yourself with anything.’

  ‘Why aren’t you angry with me?’

  Of all the things, that made the least sense. Why he was not filled with rage. For she had forced his hand into something that he gave no indication he wanted.

  ‘Because it makes no difference to me, Beatrice. I have the resources to care for you.’

  ‘But if you wished to marry...’

  ‘I did not,’ he said, clipped. ‘As it has been previously stated, I have my heir. There is no reason for me to ever marry again, and I had no intention of doing so. However, you shall be as my ward.’

  ‘Your... Your ward?’

  ‘Yes. As I said, your brother has explained everything to me.’

  ‘I’m not free.’

  This was the second time in the space of very few hours that he’d looked at her as though she was an object of pity. ‘Darling girl, there was never a question of you being free. You would belong either to your brother or to your husband. That is the way of things.’

  And then he turned and left her standing there, feeling as if he had poured cold water over her head. Because he was right. She had been seeking freedom... But she could not own anything. She could not make her own way. She had been seeking freedom by means of tying herself to another and...

  And that meant there would never truly be freedom.

  That was how she found herself running blindly through the estate, making her way to James.

  * * *

  When she arrived at the house, her hands were muddy, and she was in a state. But she did not care. His housekeeper admitted her quickly and ushered her into the sitting room to await him. She had been Beatrice’s accomplice from the beginning. Supporting and encouraging their friendship, though she was not sure why.

  It was only moments later that James came into the room.

  ‘Are you hurt?’ he asked.

  ‘No,’ she said. ‘I’m engaged. Which at the moment feels tantamount to the same thing.’

  ‘Dammit, Beatrice...’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘I’ve made a mess of this for everyone.’

  ‘Don’t be foolish, you daft girl. I don’t care about myself. I care about you. I’m not being forced into marriage. And I never was. It was an opportunity to help you and to deal with my father, but it was never a necessity. Not in the way it was for you.’

  ‘I feel so terrible...’

  ‘Beatrice,’ he said. ‘Sit down with me.’

  ‘I will.’ She sat. But then she immediately wanted to stand back up. So she did. ‘I cannot,’ she said. ‘I have too much energy.’

  ‘All right. Then we will both stand. Beatrice, my problem is not that... I can trust you. Yes?’

  ‘Of course you can. I was going to marry you.’

  ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘I know. And I should have told you this before you were committed to that. But I did not want you to change your mind. I did not wish to lose your friendship.’

  ‘You cannot lose my friendship.’

  ‘I might yet. But I will... Beatrice, I do not wish to have a true marriage with any woman. Because I do not have... I do not have the ability to love a woman.’

  ‘Why do you think that?’

  ‘Because I wish... When I think of my life. When I imagine who I might find happiness with... It could only ever be a man, Beatrice.’

  She felt... She did not know what to think of that. She did not know what to make of it at all.

  ‘Oh. But you cannot do that,’ she said.

  ‘No. It is against the laws of the King. And I could be imprisoned for it. Or killed.’

  ‘Oh.’ Yet again she felt as if there was something she was missing. What did anyone care who James wished to give his heart to? Why should there be laws? It made absolutely no sense. ‘I do not see why it should matter. Should we not all be able to find our own happiness? Why can we not? Briggs told me today that I would never find freedom. And he was not being cruel. He was correct. I cannot find freedom because as a woman I can never own anything. All money that is given to me is charity. The houses I live in belong only to men. And when I marry Briggs... He said I will be his ward. Not his wife. And that is his determination to make because... He is a man. But you’re a man also,’ she said. ‘You cannot be free either, can you?’

  ‘Beatrice...’

  ‘Why is it that only certain people are allowed to have happiness?’

  ‘Beatrice, I cannot begin to understand why the world works in this way. What I do know is, as long as people like you, and people like me, are determined to be happy, we will find ways. We do not need the permission of others. I’m thankful that you are my friend. That you look at me, and you feel no judgement. But you were willing to be my wife as you were.’

  ‘I wish I still could be,’ she said.

  ‘You care for Briggs,’ James said. ‘I think perhaps more than you know.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘You watch him. Whenever he’s in any room, and it cannot be held against you, mind, as he is a handsome bastard.’ James smiled, and his cheeks turned slightly pink. ‘But it’s more than that. You like him a great deal.’

  ‘Of course I do. He’s always been kind to me.’

  ‘I think you are drawn to him.’

  ‘I don’t understand.’

  His smile was full of sympathy and she hated it. She was extremely tired of being surrounded by men who understood more of her own future than she did. ‘You will. When you go to live with him. I think it is possible that with Briggs you will find more than you could have with me.’

  ‘I cannot. For he’s set on honouring my brother’s wishes.’

  ‘That is if he does not find it difficult.’

  ‘I am very tired of not understanding what it is people are saying. Or not saying. Or trying to say.’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘Please stay my friend. I think I’m going to go away to London. Without you here... There is little reason to stay.’

  ‘James...’

  ‘I love you, Beatrice.’ He smiled again. ‘Not as a husband.’

  ‘I love you a great deal as well,’ she said. She nearly said not as a wife, but then, she still did not know exactly what that meant. And yet somehow... She knew she didn’t.

  ‘I will be there for you
. As a friend.’

  ‘Thank you,’ she said.

  And whatever else might happen, she knew that she had him. And that mattered. But she was left to turn over what he had said about Briggs. About her feelings for him.

  And there was no satisfactory answer anywhere inside her.

  Chapter Four

  It was the eve before his wedding and Briggs found that he could not sleep. Not that a wedding was overly consequential to him.

  Particularly not one to Beatrice.

  Beatrice...

  She was sweet. But what an insipid word it was for her.

  An image of her face, her expression fiery, filled his mind. And it was more than just the image of her. It was the feel of her.

  When she had thrown herself into his arms as a woman flinging herself off a cliffside. Heedless, determined.

  Fearless.

  Soft...round in all the places a woman should be.

  He tightened his jaw, his hand clenched into a fist.

  She was not sweet. Look what she had done in the name of gaining her freedom.

  Poor girl.

  She had got herself tied to him, and while he saw no purpose in altering the course of his life over her misstep...

  Her life would change.

  Or perhaps it wouldn’t. Perhaps it would be much the same. But her dreams might be just slightly crushed.

  For she had sought a life she would not find with him.

  He stood from the chair he was seated in and walked over to the window, looking out over the estate. It was dark, the tops of the trees rustling. And in the shadows, he could see a flash of movement.

  Something white fluttering in the wind.

  He watched the strange, haunting movement for a moment.

  Then, found himself walking out of the bedchamber, and down the stairs. He did his best to minimise the echo of his footsteps on the hard floor. He walked out through the front door, and turned to the right, following the walls of the great estate home, out towards where he had been facing. It was a clear night, and the air had a bite to it. And he did not know why he was compelled to chase ghosts outside his bedchamber window.