Chapter Ten

Julia found herself standing in the center of her wedding breakfast, her head still in a whirl from the events of the past two weeks. On her walk up the aisle this morning, hanging on Lord Weatherford’s arm as he gave her away, she’d seen the faces of high society staring at her from the pews. It was unusual to have such a crowd turn out for the ceremony itself, but then again there was nothing typical about this marriage. Julia had seen rows of so many smiling men…and so many tearful-looking women.

She could scarce recall the vows. Julia only knew that she’d said them, and Gregory had said them as well, and now a gold band fit quite snug on her left hand. Every once in a while she’d gaze down at it as if in shock. There was such a rush of excitement in her veins, but also fear.

Her life as Constance’s drudge had been small, but it had been safe in its own way. She had known what each day would bring. But now she was a wife, a duchess, and she had taken her place as one of the leaders of high society. Last week’s pathetic spinster had become today’s ton darling.

“All because a man put a ring on my finger and swore an oath,” she muttered to Laura. They were standing in Beaumont House’s main gallery, where white roses adorned the tables and the cook kept bringing out rounds of salmon on toast. “They don’t care a fig about a woman’s mind or abilities. All they care about is whether or not some man finds her worthy. Honestly!”

“It’s shameful.” Her friend nibbled a corner of toast in agreement. “But at least now that you’re the Duchess of Ashworth you could try turning the peerage on its antiquated head.”

The Duchess of Ashworth. The words almost made Julia giggle, like a rude joke someone had let fly.

“The turning has already begun.” Julia beamed. “I’d a letter from the Society of Ladies for the Expansion of Female Literacy. I thought they wanted to know where my next pamphlet was, but they were most adamant about meeting to discuss plans for a charity ball. In fact, they’re eager for my opinion on all sorts of initiatives.”

“Oh?” Laura shook her head. “Unbelievable. You were almost a glorified secretary two months ago.”

“Yes, writing essays on the more minor points no one cared about. Now they want to talk of giving me the position of chairwoman! They said no one has done more to champion the cause over the years than I have.” Julia wanted to laugh; people were so ridiculous. “Well. If becoming a duchess has given me power over the lot of them, I intend to use it.”

“You’ll become quite a tyrant,” Laura said. “Worse than Bonaparte himself.”

“Indeed. By the time I’m finished, every charwoman in England will be able to read and write with proficiency. And I may not stop there. Wait until I’ve got them digesting essays on female suffrage.”

“Is Ashworth aware he’s married such a dangerous woman?” Laura grinned.

“We both of us know exactly what we’re getting in this arrangement.” Julia surveyed the room. Virtually no one else knew the truth or would ever know. Here she was with over two hundred members of the ton fawning over her and weeping at the beauty of her “fairytale romance,” and all the while Julia felt like she was playing an enormous prank on the lot of them. A prank that would last the rest of her life.

They thought she and Gregory were a love match? Julia couldn’t imagine ever loving a man like that. Desiring him, yes. God, yes. But a witty and charming rake was still a rake. Anyway, Gregory himself had stated plainly he had no capacity to love. Julia would be a fool not to believe his own words.

At least, as a rake, Gregory would know what to do tonight when they…consummated.

“I need to ask you something,” she whispered to Laura. The viscountess put down her plate and snuck off with Julia to stand in the hall just outside the gallery. “So. Ah.” Goodness, Julia wished she wasn’t blushing quite so hard at the moment. She blamed it on the three sips of champagne she’d had. Two hours ago. “Ashworth and I have agreed that we will, in fact, be having a wedding night.”

“Oh.” Laura’s eyebrows lifted.

“Just the one, of course.”

“I don’t think you get more than one wedding night. At least, not with the same husband.”

“I’d rather set myself on fire than ask Constance about something like this, and I think she’d feel the same. I know all about the, eh, anatomy of the situation.”

“Julia, you’re scarlet. You’re almost mauve!”

“Oh, blast it all. Is there anything I should know that might come as a surprise?” Julia wasn’t like Susannah in these matters. Dear Susannah was so open with her feelings, and so comfortable expressing them to those she loved the most. Julia had learned long ago that anything she revealed could be used to hurt her later on. Constance had proved that. She didn’t want to show what she truly felt: that she was terrified and elated all at once. That she was curious about what she’d feel.

Well, maybe not curious, because she knew precisely how she’d feel. The mere thought of Gregory’s body atop hers could leave her panting and breathless. The entire day, part of her had hoped the sun would never set, while the other had begged night to arrive.

“You don’t need to worry.” Laura took Julia’s hand in both of hers. “If I’m sure of anything, it’s that the duke knows exactly what he’s doing. In that way, rakes make the most wonderful husbands.”

“I don’t know why I’m afraid. I hate even admitting that I am!”

“Are you afraid of the pain?” Laura frowned. “As long as he doesn’t rush, it lasts only a moment.”

“Not the physical pain.” She sighed. Julia meant the other, emotional pain. Not that she’d be abandoned, by any means. She knew that Gregory was set to sail on the morning tide, bound for Spain, and from there, perhaps deeper into the Mediterranean. He said he’d “business” to attend, but “business” could only be coded language for pleasure. Well, that was fine with Julia. They would both go about their lives as if nothing had happened. “I think I’m afraid that I’ll be so terrible at it, he’ll feel sorry for me.”

“Julia!” Laura clapped a hand over her mouth but couldn’t help her laughter.

“I won’t be pitied by anyone! Especially my own husband.” But even Julia had begun to chuckle.

“Any man who expects you to be both a virgin and a true proficient at the same time is a dreadful prat. I believe he’ll be both good and kind to you.”

“How can you think that?” Julia was surprised.

“Well, the Carter Club wouldn’t exist if he weren’t adept.” Laura shivered. “Ugh. Half of them have gone into mourning since news of your engagement broke.”

“No, I mean how can you believe he’ll be kind to me? He’s notorious for seducing women and dueling men. How could anyone go from that to being kind?”

“Well, I’m one of the few married London women who knows Ashworth well, but not intimately.” Laura smirked, her eyes twinkling with merriment. “And I know that he’s not as wretched as people say he is. Also, I know what I’ve witnessed with my own two eyes. And I’ve seen how he looks at you.”

“It’s a marriage of convenience,” Julia muttered.

“And wouldn’t it be convenient if you fell in love with your own husband?”

For the second time in her entire life, Julia found herself tongue-tied. She wanted to keep arguing with Laura about this but wasn’t even certain what she was fighting. Or who. Maybe what she truly feared was what Laura had said. That she would fall in love with her husband.

And that he would never be able to love her in return.

“Julia! Lady Corwin is asking after you.” Susannah dashed into the hallway, looking as delighted as if this were her own wedding day. Her stepsister was the only person on earth who could fully melt Julia’s heart. “Isn’t this most exciting? Though I’ll be sad waking up tomorrow and finding you gone.”

“Well, that’s why I’ll need you to come and visit often. Call every day. Why, just come and live with me the rest of the Season. I can do a much better job of chaperoning you now than Constance.”

“Oh, that’d be lovely.” Susannah cocked her head at a quizzical angle. “But won’t you be quitting town for your honeymoon?”

“Gregory will be going away. I won’t.” Julia made sure to smile, so that Susannah didn’t worry. “We both agreed it’ll be for the best. Honestly, most wives would love the thought of a honeymoon spent on their own.”

“I adore my husband, and you’re quite right on that score.” Laura headed back to the gallery. “Come along. You can’t afford to neglect your guests, especially now that you’re one of the great ladies of the ton.”

Julia reentered her wedding reception, chatting and smiling with so many people that she began to lose track of who everyone was. Her thoughts kept spinning to Gregory. Every time she caught sight of him looking decadent in his wedding clothes, she noticed him smiling, laughing, or telling some story with animation. She also noticed that most of the women were leaving him well alone, which could only add to his good mood.

Once, just once, he caught her eye across the crowded room. God, she wanted a chance to speak with him in private, but as the bride and groom they had no opportunities. As Julia moved among her guests, accepting compliments and congratulations, she wondered what the duke could possibly be thinking.

…

I hate clothes.

Specifically, Gregory hated Julia’s clothes. Not that there was anything wrong with them—indeed, he’d spent a considerable sum to make sure they were top-notch. But he wanted her to take them off, and if this bloody wedding breakfast didn’t end soon, he might have to just get on top of a table, summon the guests’ attention, and politely urge them to get the hell out. Yes. That was just what a respectable gentleman did on his wedding day.

At the altar this morning, he’d been stunned to realize what was happening. He stared at Julia in her white satin, with the gold band glinting on her finger, and realized that he had married this enchantress. Somehow, Gregory had found himself in the exact position he swore he’d never take. He’d become a husband.

Even if it was mainly for show, even if he’d only know his wife for one short evening, he’d taken a duchess. Julia couldn’t have suited him better. She was everything he needed: beautiful, brilliant, courageous, and so very practical. She didn’t ask for anything he could not give.

Gregory had a sudden flash of inspiration: perhaps he could tell her some further truths about himself. For starters, he could explain what his true business was in heading for the Continent. Julia probably thought he was off for an erotic escapade, but he could disabuse her of those notions. Honesty, why, it could be just the thing to change her opinion of him. To have her see him with clearer eyes…

“I don’t understand.” His mother put down her quill, leaving the letter she’d been writing unattended as she gazed at Gregory in befuddlement. “What’s this doing here?”

“This,” said his nurse calmly, “has finished his tea and would like to spend an hour with you in the parlor.”

The memory made him flinch. Gregory had been all of five years old at the time, but he hadn’t dared to approach his mamma for a hug. He didn’t think he could recall ever receiving one, in fact.

“Take him to the park if he’s got nothing to do. Honestly.” His mother returned to her letter. She didn’t even notice when Gregory left the room.

He looked out the window, giving himself a moment to calm down. Though his parents had been absolute beasts, even beasts loved their children. Gregory himself had been deficient, that was the only explanation.

“Your Grace, may I have a word?” Lady Beaumont simpered up to him. She wore a lavender frock that on any other woman would have appeared springlike. On her, it looked chilly.

“Certainly.”

He led his new mother-in-law, or stepmother-in-law, or whatever-in-law to the side of the room. Her lips pursed. She looked as though a disgruntled man had appeared stark naked before her. It was a very specific type of look.

“Yes?” Gregory tried to be polite. A little.

“There’s the matter of Julia’s dowry. As you may know, my late husband was an excellent man, but not particularly good with money. Julia’s dowry is small, a mere three thousand pounds.” She scoffed, as if embarrassed by an amount of money that could have supported most families for their entire lives. “However, there is also the matter of the enormous expenses she’s created since her father died. Especially since it took her so long to be married.”

“Yes.” Gregory forced his pleasant smile to remain in place. “If only she’d been taken to London sometime in the last ten years, she might have made a match sooner.”

“Er. Quite. Though I’m certain you’re only too relieved she didn’t marry anyone else.”

Gregory tried to keep a handle on his temper.

“I’m asking if you’d be prepared to receive a smaller sum in place of the three thousand, so I may reclaim some of the costs,” the woman said.

“Forgive me if I’m wrong, but you were married twice, weren’t you? Wasn’t your first husband, Susannah’s father, quite wealthy when he died?”

Constance turned an unflattering shade of green that clashed with the lavender frock.

“That’s Susannah’s money. Surely you don’t think I’d favor Julia over my own daughter?”

“I think if you’d favored Julia at all, her life would be different.” The poor girl likely wouldn’t have stayed on the shelf this long. She wouldn’t have needed to settle for marriage to the country’s most notorious rake. She could have had a happier life, one with children and a true marriage, a future that a man as warped as Gregory could never provide. And now Lady Beaumont wanted to stick one last knife into Julia? “I don’t want her dowry. Consult Julia about it and give her whatever is ‘left over.’ Is that all?”

“Well. You don’t need to take such a tone.” Whenever someone was in the wrong, they always complained about tone. How fascinating.

“If you wanted one last opportunity to humiliate Miss Beaumont—beg pardon, the Duchess of Ashworth—then I’m afraid you haven’t succeeded.” Gregory kept his voice level and silken, all elegance. If anyone saw him, they’d claim he looked perfectly cordial. “The only one you’ve humiliated, my lady, is yourself.”

“You really do deserve each other,” she said, pursing her lips.

“You’ve been wrong about everything else in the short time we’ve known one another. No surprise that you’re wrong about that, too. Julia deserves far better than both of us.”

Gregory gave a polite bow and walked away, leaving Lady Beaumont to sputter all by herself.

“I saw that.”

Gregory paused as Julia glided up to him. He had never seen such a spark in those blue eyes before. In fact, she appeared almost giddy.

“You saw only my most charming performance, as usual.” He lifted a brow.

“I know Constance’s smallest ticks. Whatever you just said knocked her flat out.”

“Such violent language, madam. And now that you’re a duchess, why it’s positively…” He leaned just a bit nearer, so that he could whisper close to her ear. “Enthralling.”

He heard the hitch in her breathing, which thrilled him too much. It also made him want to take her into his arms and finally do what he’d yearned to do since the moment he laid eyes upon her.

But first, they had the rest of this damned reception to get through.

…

Once the guests had left and Julia had changed into a pale blue going-away frock, she descended the stairs of Beaumont House for the last time. She blew a kiss to her father’s portrait while she walked down to meet Gregory and Susannah. Constance had vanished, saying something about a headache.

Julia was grateful to that headache.

“Oh, I’ll miss you.” Susannah flung her arms around Julia. It was the only time that day Julia had been forced to fight against tears.

“You’d better call. Tomorrow, if possible.”

Even though they didn’t share a drop of blood, Susannah was her sister in all the ways that mattered. The girl dashed tears away as Gregory regarded the women.

“Come then, Your Grace.” He extended his hand. “Your carriage awaits.”

Julia allowed herself to be helped into the gold-accented coach with the Ashworth crest gleaming on the lacquered door. She waved out the window to her stepsister as Gregory seated himself opposite her. The door closed, and the horses’ hooves clopped on the street as they pulled away from Beaumont House.

And then it was just the duke and Julia.

“You made a ravishing bride,” he said.

“Thank you.” Julia believed she could taste her heart in her throat. She tried to think of something light and teasing to say, but her nerves wouldn’t permit it. She couldn’t stop staring at her husband. What a strange word, husband. Gregory watched her carefully, as if she might dash out of the carriage at any moment. “You needn’t worry. I’m not going anywhere.”

“I should hope not.” He looked at her with hunger. “I’m enjoying this sight far too much. You in my carriage. Us alone. No chaperones. No sisters.”

And soon, no clothes between them. Julia pressed her thighs close together, trying to quash the bloom of desire deep within her body.

Ugh, she hated waiting. She’d already waited so damn long for this moment. Even if it wasn’t everything she’d expected, today had been everything she craved.

Tonight should be as well.

When they arrived at Carter House, the servants were lined up and ready to greet their new mistress. Normally the newlyweds would have vacated London to begin their honeymoon, but this was anything but a conventional wedding. Gregory wouldn’t have time to show her Lynton Park, his ancestral estate, before he left England, but Julia could make her way to Somerset whenever she liked.

Alone.

We agreed to this. She remained calm as she met Peele, the butler.

“Welcome, Your Grace. We’re ever so delighted to see you,” he said.

The butler and the servants all did appear pleased. In fact, Julia believed that if he could have, Peele would have organized a festival in her honor.

“They’re glad I shan’t be dueling anymore,” Gregory murmured as he led his new bride into the house.

“Because they care for you?” She was surprised to see him appear almost bashful.

“You know how servants are. They like having a secure position.”

But from the way a chamber maid wiped a happy tear from her cheek, Julia thought Gregory might be downplaying the truth. Any man who inspired love and loyalty from his staff was usually a good man, however wild.

Julia flushed to think that she’d married a man who was not only wicked, but good.

No. She brushed that thought aside as she was shown upstairs to her chamber. Gregory was charming, and perhaps intelligent, and maybe an original, but that was all she’d allow. Julia was not going to make the mistake of forgetting what this arrangement was. She’d wanted freedom and security, and she’d found both. If she wished for anything more, she’d only make herself miserable.

Julia tried not to stare in awe when she was ushered into the duchess’s chamber. The walls were papered in pale-blue silk, and the large, canopied bed seemed soft and lush as a cloud. Tall windows let in the London sun as two maids bustled about, getting her all settled in and unpacked. There was a washroom in an adjoining chamber, one with a deep, claw-footed tub that looked like it would make for a heavenly soak.

Julia couldn’t recall the last time she’d enjoyed such luxuries. Even though she hadn’t been a servant, at Pennington Hall she’d been used to attending on Constance at all hours of the day. The moment she’d begun to settle in with a book or a bath, she’d be called on to do something else. But here, she’d have so much time and peace.

And all because of Gregory.

Julia thanked the maids as they left, and paced across the room, casting glances now and again at the bed. The sight of it turned her whole insides to butterflies.

The sun was beginning to set when she decided to simply enter Gregory’s chamber. The wait was turning her mad. But as she touched the handle, the door opened.

“Oh. Hello.”

Gregory stood before her. Julia’s gaze went out of focus as she saw him without his coat. She had never seen a man so undressed before. The shirt clung to his broad chest, and she could see that his arms were corded with dense muscle. Julia felt faint as her husband shut the door and put his back to it.

His cravat was undone, and she could see the pulse jump in his throat. He smelled of sin and pine and musk. Julia hated that she felt so uncertain, but didn’t know how to proceed.

“Are you hungry?” he asked.

“No.” She licked her lips. “I’m full from the reception.”

“Yes. Good.”

He, however, seemed ravenous as he beheld her. Julia backed up as Gregory approached. They both stopped on opposite sides of the bed.

“In that case,” he growled. Gregory strode around to meet her. “Shall we?”

He kissed her before she could reply. But it was a yes.