Lydia's Penance, page 8
Not trusting her voice, Lydia just nodded shortly. His fingers released, and then the music was starting and they were walking down the aisle.
The duke stood at the end of it; so large and imposing that she had to stomp down on the impulse to turn and run. Just looking at him made her bottom and between her thighs tingle again. A blush heated her cheeks and made her want to run for a whole different reason. After all, last night had been quite improper, and for some reason she felt sure everyone who looked at her must know why she was blushing. They must be able to see some sign of the emotions and sensations rioting through her body.
Yet somehow, Lydia made it down the aisle. She blinked up at the duke as her stepfather passed her off, his surly answer to the priest as he gave her away barely impinging on her consciousness. The duke overwhelmed her senses, the import of the moment making it impossible for her to look away from him, and it was as if the entire rest of the room somehow melted away. The touch of his hands on hers, the intensity of the look in his dark eyes, left her trembling.
It was all quite surreal.
“... and to love, honor, and obey,” she repeated after the priest, and thought she saw something in the duke’s eyes flash.
Snapping his bible closed, the sternly pious priest gave them a censorious look.
“You may kiss the bride.” The words almost sounded like a warning, one which the duke absolutely ignored. He took no time in stepping forward, his hands coming up to cup Lydia’s face, and then his mouth was on hers in a decidedly scandalous kiss, just like the night before. Also, just like the night before, her lips parted in a gasp, turning the kiss even more scandalous. White noise roared in her ears over the shocked gasps and murmurs from the guests, as well as Lady Chesterfield’s horrified declarations of “oh my stars” over and over again.
When he finally lifted his lips from hers, it was only his strong arm that kept her from crumbling in a heap. Practically dizzy, Lydia docilely let herself be led back down the aisle and out the door of the chapel.
Then it was a cacophony of congratulations, both sincere and scandalized, barely concealed ribaldry, and all sorts of probing questions about their love match. Because now everyone was certainly convinced it truly was a sudden, but real, love match. The duke kept his arm about her, holding her securely at his side, which caused more than one disapproving look, but the majority of the guests were more amused than anything. After all, one doesn’t want to appear to be too disapproving of a duke, no matter his shocking behavior.
Lydia couldn’t have gotten through the event without him. He bolstered her, both physically and verbally, throughout the receiving, and was quickly able to step in whenever questioning became too pointed. While Amy was also at her side, her younger sister didn’t have the social savoir faire to divert all of the old dragons of the ton. Lady Courtshorn, in particular, was a bit of a trial, as she was both hard of hearing and old enough not to care about showing disapproval to a duke. She scolded him for lewdness and would have turned her attention to Lydia if he hadn’t intervened. For which Lydia was immeasurably grateful; she had no idea how she would have responded. A duchess shouldn’t bow her head, and yet Lydia didn’t know what an appropriate response would be for a duchess either.
The wedding breakfast was a blur, the food tasting like nothing in her mouth. Beside her, Amy chattered and the duke steadily ate his way through his kippers, toast, beans, and eggs.
It wasn’t because she was married to a man she’d trapped into marriage. It wasn’t because she was terrified of him or thought he would treat her badly. It wasn’t because her stepfather was still glaring at her and she knew he would be hanging over her head even once she was out of his house.
It was because of that kiss.
The ache between her legs had become overwhelming as he’d kissed her, and only the slightest discomfort when she sat down had marred it. If it had marred it at all; somehow the discomfort only reminded her of the way his hand had felt on her bare flesh and she felt all the more heated for it. That kiss... in front of everyone! Scandalous. Shocking. And if he hadn’t stopped, she wouldn’t have pushed him away.
Last night, he’d surprised her, but today, today she should have been more in control of herself. Today, she was a bride, she’d been expecting a kiss, she wasn’t dizzy and her bottom wasn’t roasted from a spanking, and yet he’d still undone her completely. It was like his lips had set a fire roaring in her veins; one that had been banked last night but had come back to life with a vengeance.
Now, all she could think about was tonight. Their wedding night. The books from her stepfather’s library. What they were going to do. She was also horridly aware that she had far too much knowledge and too little experience. After all, not one of the books had mentioned how distracting things like kisses could be when one was no longer kissing. Or how distracting arousal was. Or how distracting imagining a specific man completely unclothed could be.
What she did know was there would be - should be - pleasure. Presumably, like the pleasure she’d felt last night, even if it hadn’t been quite what had been described.
“My dear.” A deep voice, a touch of the hand on her glove, and Lydia jumped. Her new husband’s lips twitched in amusement. “It’s nearly time to leave. Would you like to go change before we begin our journey?”
“Oh... yes, yes thank you.” Still in a daze, Lydia got to her feet. Fortunately Amy was there to lead her back to her room and to the dress they’d laid out earlier. Although her wedding gown hadn’t been specially made for the day, due to the circumstances, all the lace and embroidery was hardly comfortable for traveling. Her pink muslin was much more the thing.
They’d barely gotten her into it when there was a knock at the door.
“Yes?” Lydia asked as she began to pull the pins from her hair. They were giving her a headache; she’d much rather travel with her hair in a simpler fashion.
The door opened to reveal Lady Chesterfield, causing Lydia’s mouth to open in a small ‘o’ of surprise. Beside her, Amy gave her an astonished glance.
“Lady Chesterfield, I’m sorry, am I taking too long?”
That worthy lady smiled, although it was a distinctly uneasy smile, and fluttered her hands in front of her. “Oh no, no, dear, I was just... I was hoping to have a word with you before you left.” Her eyes darted to Amy, who immediately took the hint.
“I’ll go inform the duke you’re almost ready and see that everything is in order,” Amy said with an impish grin, her eyes sparkling with curiosity. She obviously had as little idea of why Lady Chesterfield would want a private word as Lydia did.
“Thank you,” Lydia said quietly. She shifted her weight as Amy swiftly exited the room. “My lady? Would you mind if I continue to undo my hair? I’m afraid that if I travel with it as such I’ll have a megrim before we’ve reached our destination.”
“Oh of course, Your Grace.” At the use of her new title, Lydia nearly looked behind her to see who Lady Chesterfield was talking to. That was something she would have to become accustomed to, she realized with a start. “I was just, well, this is terribly forward of me, but -“
As Lady Chesterfield babbled, it occurred to Lydia that the older lady was nervous. Setting down her pins on the vanity, she came forward to meet the older woman and took her hands. “Lady Chesterfield, whatever reason you have to speak with me, I welcome. You’ve been very kind to me, and I would be churlish to turn you away, no matter how forward your words might seem.”
The lady gave her a small smile, looking only a little relieved. “Thank you, Your Grace. It’s just... seeing as your mother is no longer with you, and your, um, betrothal and wedding both occurred in my house, I feel rather responsible for you. I don’t... well, you see it’s customary for a new bride to receive some um, advice from a married female family member, but as you haven’t any such, well... it really is terribly forward of me...”
“Not at all, Lady Chesterfield,” Lydia said gently, feeling a sudden surge of warmth for this prickly, staid lady. She might have a reputation as being overly strict on the proprieties, but she had taken up for Lydia this week, smoothed the scandal, and now was making herself uncomfortable for Lydia’s sake. “I am grateful that you would think of me and honored that you would impart your wisdom.”
Blushing now, the lady looked rather pleased. “Yes, well, I don’t know if I would call it wisdom but... my mother’s advice has always stood me in good stead. Tonight your husband will expect to take certain, um, liberties with your person. He’ll know what he’s about, so it’s best to just let him do as he pleases. It usually isn’t too awful, and it can actually become... well, yes, I’ll just say that it is part of being married and while it’s rather uncomfortable and alarming at times, well.... um... oh dear I’m making a muddle of this.”
She really was, but her heart was in the right place, and fortunately Lydia had some idea already of what the good lady was referring to. Not that she’d admit such a thing of course, it would shock the older woman if she did. Instead, she just widened her eyes and nodded her head.
“No, no, I understand perfectly, Lady Chesterfield. When my husband comes to assert his marital rights, I should just follow his lead because he will know what to do. That is what you are saying, correct?”
“Yes, yes.” The lady gave her a real smile. “You’re a dear girl. I do wish you happy.”
“Thank you, Lady Chesterfield.”
Relieved at having fulfilled her duty, the lady practically fled the room, although when she opened the door, the Countess of Spencer was standing there. Lydia took the opportunity to finish pulling the pins from her hair as the other two women exchanged pleasantries, and then Lady Chesterfield finally departed.
“Hello,” the Countess said cheerfully, coming in and plopping down on Lydia’s bed, in a manner more like Amy would than a countess should. Her demure, pink gown was a bolder shade than the one Lydia was wearing, and made her look quite fetching. “Best wishes on your marriage.”
“Thank you,” Lydia said, eyeing the countess curiously. They’d been introduced of course, but they hadn’t really had the opportunity to talk. “Is there something I may assist you with?”
“Actually, I’m going to assist you with something,” the Countess said, smiling in an altogether unsettling way. The amount of mischief one smile could hold was rather disturbing. “You see, Arabella and I are good friends, and she’s quite invested in her brother’s happiness. While we might not approve of trapping a man into marriage in the general sense, you don’t seem the fortune or title hunting type, and so we’re rather tickled by the situation as a whole. However, it’s possible for any marriage to get off to a ghastly start if the wedding night goes badly, and that’s why I’m here.”
“Excuse me?” Lydia couldn’t think of any other response following this astounding speech. The Countess kicked up her heels. Although Lydia had seen her behaving perfectly circumspectly downstairs, now that there was no one to see her but Lydia, it was almost as though she was incapable of sitting still.
“The wedding night is very important,” the Countess said, nodding sagely. “You wouldn’t believe how much stock some men put into it.” She rolled her eyes. “If Isaac’s bride were to be a shrinking violet - which obviously you aren’t or you wouldn’t have trapped him - or otherwise put off by him during the event, well, it could make everyone unhappy in the long run. If you can keep a man happy in bed, he’s generally well-to-do in the rest of his life as well. They’re really quite simple creatures in that regard, although don’t mistake me, they can be devious as well.”
“I’m not sure I understand,” Lydia said faintly. The Countess was behaving as if they were bosom friends, which wasn’t the truth at all, although if she was great friends with the duke’s sister, it was possible they could become so in the future. If Lydia could be friends with such a shocking creature. The thought was both alarming and enticing.
“Tonight the Duke is going to put his manhood inside of you,” the Countess said. She spread her legs slightly, visible even under her voluminous skirts, and pointed. “In here. Well, possibly other places too, but there for a certainty. So if you’re going to be shocked or disgusted, you should get it out now, rather than later.” She looked expectantly at Lydia, but the only thing shocking Lydia was the Countess. It occurred to her that both Lady Chesterfield and the Countess had come to her for similar reasons, but the difference in delivery was nigh unbelievable. The Countess frowned. “You aren’t shocked. You should be at least a little shocked.”
“My stepfather has some books...” Lydia’s voice trailed off as the heat rose in her face when she realized her inadvertent admission. The Countess crowed, laughing and clapping her hands in delight.
“Oh, we will get along! I knew it. Very well, as long as it’s books and not personal experience, Isaac won’t have any reason to complain.” The Countess stood up. “I’d ask if you have any questions, but we don’t have time, and I’ve been made aware that the gentlemen prefer it if questions are directed to them. You would not believe the trouble when they think you’ve learned something illicit from another man.” She pointed her finger at Lydia. “Whatever you learned in those books, make sure you tell Isaac where your knowledge came from, so that he doesn’t let his imagination run away with him. And don’t assume he’ll enjoy everything you’ve read. Let him show you what he likes. It seems to vary from man to man anyway.”
Lydia’s mouth dropped open and the Countess laughed.
“No firsthand experience on my part, just gossip among friends.” She came over and held out her hands. Automatically, Lydia lifted her own to take them and kissed the Countess back. “Now, when we see each other in the future, you will call me Cynthia, and we will be good friends, and any questions you have we can speak of then.”
“Please call me Lydia, then,” she responded, still feeling a bit dazed. The Countess - Cynthia - was like a gale force wind, knocking all sorts of things over as she blew in and out.
“Lovely Lydia,” Cynthia said with a wink. “Now let’s get you on your way to your wedding night! That’s another lesson for you - don’t leave your husband waiting for bedchamber activities. It makes them ever so temperamental.”
Chapter 5
The ride to the inn was interminable. Isaac had chosen to ride, mostly because he didn’t trust himself in the carriage with his new bride, but he found himself regretting that choice. Being in the carriage with her would have given him an opportunity to talk to her. On the other hand, not everyone wanted to converse while traveling long distances. It might have been a bloody awful ride, taken in silence.
He’d much prefer to go back to his usual, decisive ways, but so far his bride was still turning him on his ear without even trying.
She’d looked so lovely in her wedding finery; lovely and fragile, and yet when he’d kissed her, and her lips had parted, she’d met his tongue stroke for stroke. Isaac hadn’t meant for the kiss to become so indecorous as to reach levels sufficient for gossip, it had just happened. However, he had achieved his goal, which was to convince every attendee there that this truly was a love match. He just hadn’t counted on how quickly his new bride would overset him with a simple kiss.
Lydia.
He had to stop thinking of her as Miss Stafford or his bride. After all, he couldn’t very well call her either to her face. Lydia. Grey-eyed, honey-haired Lydia with lips that tasted like apples.
After their kiss last night he’d convinced himself he’d imagined how intense it had been. Convinced himself that his loss of control was due to the spanking and her unexpected arousal. Today’s kiss had been meant to prove that theory correct; instead, it had blasted that theory out of the water.
So he hadn’t ridden in the carriage with her, because he’d wanted more time to gather himself and think about his new wife. That was the truth of the matter, whatever other excuses he conjured. He was still confused over how to feel about his wife, and so he didn’t want to be in her presence until he’d gotten a better handle on his emotions - and on his self-control.
Frowning, he stared off into the distance as he rode ahead of the carriage and baggage train.
It was a good thing he was so attracted to his wife, he decided. She was a passionate little thing, although it was clear from her kisses that she was also an innocent. An innocent who became aroused from being disciplined.
Isaac shifted in the saddle, which was suddenly a lot more uncomfortable. Now was not the time to start feeling amorous, especially when there were still several hours left till they reached the inn.
Deliberately, he pushed away the more scintillating thoughts of his new bride and began to plan out how to introduce her to the household, her new duties, and prepare her for the next Season. He made sure not to think too much about the disciplinary portion of preparing her either.
Because of the baggage train and the late start on their travels, there was no way for them to make it to Manchester Chase in a single day, which he’d already known. The sky was beginning to turn distinctly pinkish when they finally reached the inn he’d planned on stopping at for the evening, a rather nice establishment called the Crown and Dove in the little town of Waring Cross. It was one of the more prosperous small towns as it stood at the crossroads between quite a few larger destinations, and was well used to catering to the ton.
Sliding down from his horse, Isaac handed the reins off to one of the grooms in the yard. His tiger, a clever boy named Jacob, immediately hopped down from the back of Lydia’s carriage to accompany the groom and see to the horses, as Isaac went to open the carriage door. Holding out his hand, he assisted Lydia in stepping down from the carriage and then moved away so one of the footmen could assist Lydia’s new lady’s maid. Before leaving the Chesterfields’, he’d asked them for an appropriate maid for his new wife, and they’d provided him with Mary Stone. She was about Lydia’s age and seemed a sober young woman; as long as she and Lydia got on well enough, Isaac was happy to have her installed in the position. Arabella’s maid could show her anything she didn’t already know once his brother and sister rejoined them at Manchester Chase.
