Some Dukes Have All the Luck, page 9
She speared him with a sharp glare. “Do you mean to tell me you truly are part owner in a gaming hell in London along with being a duke of the realm?”
She expected him to admit he wasn’t. He saw it in the jut of her chin, as if she was preparing for a blow. “I am very much part owner in a gaming hell,” he replied. “The name of the place is Brimstone. I have been part owner there for nigh on a decade.”
She blinked, her shoulders sagging at his honesty. “Oh.”
He reached out slowly and took her hand. She stiffened at the contact but did not pull back, which he would have to count as a win if the guarded look in her eyes was any indication.
“My father and I did not have a good relationship,” he explained quietly. It was a massive understatement, but she did not need to hear the entire ugliness of it all, how his father had been renowned for his brutality, how his words had hit as hard as his fists. “I left home quite young and began supporting myself immediately. The rest of what I said is true as well. I am looking for a marriage of convenience, to find someone I can rely on to watch out for my wards. You can live where you wish, can do as you like. I only ask that you care for the girls.”
She tilted her head, seeming to mull over his words, testing them for any insincerity. Suddenly her brows drew low over her eyes. “You can easily hire someone to mind them. Why shackle yourself to a stranger for life to see it done?”
“I have hired people. But my wards have not been easy to care for.” He gave her a close look, suddenly flooded with tension as he thought of the past years of frustration and trouble, each day bringing with it the deep sense that he was failing the girls. “While you have met Eliza and Nelly, there is also a third, Regina. You may recall seeing her when you and I first met outside the circulating library.” At her nod, he continued. “They came to me five years ago, upon the death of their grandmother. It was devastating to them to lose her, and I’m afraid they acted out in the worst ways. I indulged them, letting them run wild, thinking their grief would run its course. A mistake, perhaps, as they have only grown more rebellious.”
“I see,” Bronwyn responded, her expression thoughtful. For each second that ticked by and she retained that contemplative expression, however, the more his uncertainty grew. Damnation, had he made a fatal error in being so open about the girls’ troublesome behavior? Not many would willingly shackle themselves to such an unfortunate family, after all.
But she merely straightened and looked him in the eye. “And who are they to you?”
Again that tension, though this time tenfold. “Their grandmother was my mother’s old nurse,” he replied carefully, clenching his hands into fists on his knees.
Surely she would have more questions. She had a scientific mind, after all. Blessedly, however, she merely nodded.
“I like your wards,” she said. “And I look forward to making the acquaintance of the third.” Suddenly her tone gentled. “You’ve no need to worry about them while they are in my care.”
Her softly spoken words moved him in ways he never could have expected. He had assumed she would enter into their agreement in a cool, unfeeling way, focusing on what she could get out of their arrangement and nothing more.
Yet here she was, proclaiming her affection for Nelly and Eliza, showing interest in Regina, and doing what she could to put his mind at ease regarding all three. It had the most unnerving thickness settling in his throat, the strangest warmth and ache in his suddenly damp eyes.
To distract himself from these perplexing—and, if he was being honest, disturbing—reactions to her, he loudly cleared his throat and asked, “Are there any other questions I can answer for you?”
In the space of a moment, Bronwyn’s mood changed entirely. Gone was the forthright, assured woman, and in her place was one who was pale and uncertain. She nodded, one stiff jerk of her head before, swallowing hard, she asked, “And…and the marriage bed?”
Ah, of course. He couldn’t blame her for her uncertainty and distrust. He had deceived her, after all. And the moment he had managed to get her alone he had pawed at her like an eager green boy.
“Our union remains a business arrangement,” he replied gently. “It shall be one in name only. There will be no marital relations between us.”
Which, now that he had tasted her lips, sat like bitter gall in his stomach. But he would not go back on his word.
“I see,” she said. Why did her voice sound so small? And why did there appear to be regret in her eyes?
But those things didn’t remain long. That stubbornness that had been hinted at before took over her features. He didn’t know if he should be frightened or impressed at the speed of the change.
“Mr. Hawkins—er, Your Grace—er, Ash.” She stopped, clearly frustrated, before starting up again. “As you know, I am a naturalist.”
Why did he suddenly feel as if he were standing on the edge of a cliff, looking down into an unfathomable abyss?
“And as a naturalist,” she continued, “I have more than my share of curiosity in understanding the natural world.”
She paused, spearing him with a pointed look. He nodded, not knowing what else she wanted from him.
Blessedly, it seemed to satisfy her.
“While insects are my main field of study, I have always found myself drawn to all manner of creatures, from the very small to the very large and everything in between. That, of course, includes the human body, which, as you know, is part of that natural world. It greatly interests me how it moves, the sensations it might feel.” She cleared her throat. “Mating habits.”
He blinked. “Mating habits?” His voice sounded hoarse even to his own ears, as muffled with the roar of blood rushing through his veins as they were.
“Indeed.” Her face flooded with color, but she held his gaze. Adjusting her spectacles, she shifted, turning more fully toward him on the bench. “I know you said you did not want us to consummate this marriage. Now that we have kissed, however, I have a proposition for you.”
“A proposition.” The words tumbled from his numb lips. Why did he suddenly feel like a parrot, repeating everything she was saying?
“Yes, a proposition. I would very much like to consummate the relationship. For scientific purposes, of course.”
He tried to speak. He truly did. But besides a faint croak, no sound escaped from his throat. Which was probably for the best, as he didn’t have a clue how to respond to that request.
She, blessedly, did not seem to notice his shock. Her face became more animated as she warmed to her subject.
“Naturally, I have made a study of the mating habits of other animalia. While my parents have been reticent in allowing me to tackle such subjects, my dear friend, Seraphina, who owns the Quayside Circulating Library here on Synne, has made certain the unmarried females on the Isle have access to information of a more sensitive nature, and supplies us with the means to educate ourselves, the better to arm ourselves for battle in a world dominated by men and their intention to keep women in the dark regarding our very natural sexuality. There is only so much one can glean from books, however.” She smiled. “Which is where you come in.”
Which was a euphemism, as unintentional as it had been, that he could not fail to be aware of.
“Do I?” he managed.
“Absolutely.” She fairly bounced in her seat now with her excitement. “I, of course, have not had cause to explore such things. While I have come to an understanding of how the human body, in particularly the female human body, reacts to desire, there is only so much I can do myself.”
“Oh my God.” He groaned under his breath, even as his body burst into flames.
“And so I propose an amendment to our original agreement,” she went on, blithely unaware of his discomfort. “We shall consummate our marriage, and we shall live as husband and wife at Caulnedy for two weeks before you return to London. In this scenario, not only shall I gain the research necessary to understand the more intimate workings of the human body, but it shall provide me with a modicum of protection from the gossips of Synne.” Here her expression changed, the focused intensity transforming to a wry type of pain. “I am considered an oddity here, as you may not be aware, and would not want anyone to pity me more than they already do. Which they most certainly shall if my new husband abandons me on the very day of our wedding.”
His heart twisted at that bit of vulnerability. He had been stunned when she had burst into the conversation earlier, stating that they would live together on Synne for a time. But he had not been particularly concerned; no doubt she was simply trying to save face. They would have a talk before he returned to London for the special license, and he would reiterate his intentions for this to be a marriage in name only, and everything would be planned out nice and neat, wrapped up with a bow.
Now, however, he saw where her hasty declaration had come from, and felt deeply for her reasoning. Even so, the thought of lying with her, her naked skin against his, the feel of her heat wrapped around him…Ah, God. He swallowed hard. He wanted that with her, more than he wanted breath.
But he was no good. And she was so damn sweet and innocent.
“I—I’m not sure it would be wise—”
“I know I am not beautiful,” she cut in, her voice low and intense, the flush that stained her cheeks spreading down her throat and past the modest neckline of her simple gown. “You must have been with many women, all much more lovely and desirable than me—”
“You are desirable,” he declared fiercely. He grabbed at her hand, saw her eyes flare wide. “And I desire you,” he continued thickly. “Very much.”
“Goodness,” she whispered. For a moment she gazed at him, longing turning the limpid pools of her eyes to the brilliant blue at the center of a flame. She cleared her throat. “Then you agree?”
What the hell could he do in the face of such vulnerability? She would remain untouched by the ugliness in him; he would make certain of it. Having a consensual, physical relationship with Bronwyn did not mean they would be emotionally involved. And there was no reason to believe she would come to care for him. Hadn’t she said herself that this would be purely scientific?
Sending up a quick prayer that he was not making a monumental mistake, he nodded. “Yes, I agree.”
The smile she gave him knocked the breath from his body. “Excellent. Well then,” she said, standing. “Shall we return to the others?”
He rose, offering his arm, walking with her back inside. All the while he was achingly aware of the way her body swayed against his and the heat of her hand on his sleeve—as well as the fact that he would soon be bound to this woman, both legally and physically. The next weeks, he mused with equal parts dread and anticipation, would be both the shortest and longest of his life.
Chapter 8
Bronwyn would be forever grateful that she had her dearest friends about her on her wedding day. They had been her greatest support in the past fortnight as her mother and Lady Tesh had pulled and prodded and stretched her as thin as any one person could be in planning the wedding of all weddings, as her father so eloquently put it.
That did not mean, however, that every moment with the Oddments was all sunshine and roses.
“You don’t have to go through with this, Bronwyn,” Seraphina hissed in her ear as Mrs. Pickering turned away to converse with Bronwyn’s maid over the jeweled crown—a crown! Who was she, the queen?—they were trying to place in her short curls. Lacking a quantity of upswept locks arranged into an intricate mass, they were having difficulty securing the thing to her head.
“Seraphina,” Adelaide muttered, “leave her alone. She knows what she’s doing. Don’t you, Bronwyn?”
There was more than a hint of uncertainty in Adelaide’s voice. Yet she stood just behind Bronwyn, hand on her shoulder, a steady support. Bronwyn’s heart swelled.
The Oddments had not taken the news of her nuptials well. Bronwyn could not blame them; if it were one of them agreeing to marry a stranger a mere day after meeting him, she would be just as horrified.
But, being the incredible friends they were, they had rallied over the past weeks, assisting wherever they could in the planning and buoying Bronwyn’s spirits during the most difficult days.
Like now. A mere hour before she was to step foot in St. Clement’s and vow to honor and cherish a man she had spoken to a total of three times.
She drew in a shaky breath, clenching her hands tight in the gold netting of her wedding gown, and raised her gaze to her reflection in the glass. Only to find someone who looked nothing like her staring back at her. There was her same narrow face and plain brown hair and sea-green eyes framed by delicate gold rims. But the familiarity ended there. Her nondescript curls, cut short for ease years ago much to her mother’s horror, had been coaxed into soft waves. They framed a face that now held the artificial hint of rouge on her normally pale cheeks, and lips tinted a rosy red. Her clothes, too, looked all wrong on her frame. She was used to wearing simple gowns, ones chosen for comfort rather than fashion, that could withstand treks through knee-high grasses and maneuvering over rocky hills. Now, however, she was garbed in something that could only be described as decadent. The gold and ivory silk underdress was overlaid in gold netting, Brussels lace trimming the low-cut bodice and the small cap sleeves. She fought the violent urge to tug the neckline up to hide her nonexistent bosom.
A hand on her other shoulder startled her back to the present. Glancing up, she caught Honoria’s face in the glass. Her friend gave her an encouraging smile.
“Wait until you see the church, Bronwyn,” she said quietly. “My sister and cousins and I have turned it into a veritable fairyland. My father—who looks quite dashing in his new vestments, by the way—said he had never seen it look so beautiful.” She sent a meaningful glance Adelaide’s way.
“Oh! And the cake is quite possibly my best work yet,” Adelaide chimed in. “Lady Tesh gave me free rein, and I don’t think I have ever had so much fun. It’s a garden of sugared flowers and candied fruits. And, of course, I insisted on the cake itself being your favorite, lemon with buttercream.”
Honoria and Adelaide looked to Seraphina. That woman pursed her lips, looking for all the world as if she had just sucked on a lemon herself. Then she heaved a world-weary sigh and reached up to scratch Phineas on the neck.
“My sisters have been to Danesford,” Seraphina said, referring to the Duke and Duchess of Dane’s home, “to help with preparations for the wedding breakfast, and they have come back in raptures over the state of the grounds.”
They all fell to talking and laughing, a seemingly merry bunch. But Bronwyn sensed the undercurrent of tension to it all; their laughter had a hollow ring to it, their smiles just a touch too bright, their eyes tight with strain.
Tears stung her eyes and she blinked them back. She’d hardly had time to think the past two weeks over the monumental change her life was taking. But as she sat at her dressing table, which would soon be her dressing table no more, in a room that already felt no longer hers, in a house she could no longer call home, the beginnings of panic took hold. What if this was a huge mistake? She didn’t know this man. And had she truly requested, in a moment of curiosity, still vibrating from the aftereffects of his kiss, that they consummate their marriage and live together as man and wife for a fortnight?
No, she reminded herself brutally, she had not requested it. She had all but demanded it, then practically begged him when he refused. Her cheeks flamed hot just thinking of her audacity. The man was gorgeous, and utterly delicious; no doubt he had women throwing themselves at him all the time.
But those women had not been engaged to him. She paused. Or had they? For all she knew, the man had been engaged multiple times over the years. Mayhap he had previously been married. Or he could have a mistress. He could have a battalion of mistresses housed all over London. Didn’t men of his station have mistresses? Perhaps he would keep them on after his marriage to Bronwyn. He would continue his affairs in London, his marriage a mere bump in the road.
Bitterness filled her mouth. She forcefully attempted to swallow it, but it remained, souring her already low mood. Why? She could not possibly be jealous. She and Ash were nothing to each other, after all, merely convenient means to an end. He required someone to raise his wards; she required a husband to escape her parents’ quick destruction of her life. It was all neat and perfectly tidy.
Why, then, did the thought of him lying with another woman sit so very wrong with her?
As that question swirled uncomfortably in her brain, Katrina burst into the room, a whirlwind of rose-colored silk and blond curls. She came up short, her blue eyes widening, hands clasped to her chest, when she spied Bronwyn.
“Oh, you look like a fairy princess.” She sighed.
“If the fairy princess was marrying the dragon instead of the knight,” Seraphina muttered before Honoria quieted her with an elbow to her ribs.
“Bronwyn, we must make haste,” her mother said, bustling over. “If Miss Denby is here, then so is Lady Tesh, and it is time for us to depart for the church.”
Everything became a blur as everyone bustled about Bronwyn. She felt, quite frighteningly, as if she were in the eye of a hurricane, that if she took one step in either direction she would be swept away in the chaos. Before she quite knew what was happening, she was whisked from the room, accepting greetings and exclamations of delight as she was paraded before Lady Tesh and her father, and bundled into the waiting carriage with her parents.
Years later, when she looked back on this day, she would remember only disjointed images: the trip to the church seeming at once achingly long and frighteningly short; her parents waving gleefully at each person they passed on the street; the small crowd, gathered before the church, that cheered as she arrived. And then she was inside the small stone building, nearly as ancient as Synne itself, and her eyes met Ash’s. Good God, had he always looked quite so handsome? Out of the corner of her eye she saw Adelaide mouth “Oh my God” as she gaped at Ash, caught Honoria and Seraphina gawking in disbelief at him as they whispered furiously to one another. As if she needed the reminder that the man was the most sinfully gorgeous person she had ever seen. A fact that did not help her nerves one bit, especially when she considered what tonight would bring.
