Chapter Eighteen

Gregory had never slept so well as he did with his wife’s naked body warming his arms. Come the next morning, he awoke groggily to find the bed beside him empty. Julia had vanished, though the sheets were still warm from her body. Still warm from their frantic exertions throughout the night.

Gregory rolled onto his back and passed a hand down his face. He’d a reputation for being a lover with stamina, but even he’d been amazed at his own insatiability. He could not enjoy her body enough times; he could not hear her whimper or shriek her climaxes enough to fully satisfy himself. Even after last night, his body stirred with the aching desire to make her his once more.

Where the devil was she?

Julia wasn’t in her room. When he rang for his valet, he learned the lady had dressed and gone for a walk in the gardens. Tomkins had been surprised to find his master voluntarily awake and dressing at eight in the morning.

“Is something wrong, Your Grace?”

“Nothing at all,” Gregory said as his valet helped him with his coat.

Nothing except the temptress that he’d married, that is. Gregory walked downstairs, foregoing the thought of tea or breakfast as he hastened to the gardens. Gravel crunched beneath his boots as he strode out into the chill morning air to find his wife.

Gregory stopped when he was halfway to the rose garden. His wife.

Julia was now truly his wife in every way. Their marriage was consummated, and she was safely the Duchess of Ashworth. Their bargain had been completed.

Would she now wish him to depart and leave her in peace?

After last night, he didn’t want to believe such a possibility. She’d been jealous about Señora Guzmán, though she’d tried to hide it. Julia had loved all the varieties of bedsport to which he’d introduced her. Surely she wanted him to remain with her.

The hell was he thinking? He truly did have business to attend on the Continent. He needed to make for Madrid, to replenish the Guzmáns funds and help himself to some of that excellent Spanish wine while he was about it.

But there wasn’t enough wine in the world to make him forget Julia, not after the ecstasy of last night. Gregory’s senses sharpened as he set off in pursuit of her once again. He had to know if she wanted him gone. If he was to be rejected, better to get it bloody well over with. He would not inconvenience her if she wanted him away. Gregory was a proud man, much too proud to pine for his own damned wife from the shadows of his estate.

“Good morning, Your Grace.”

Julia’s voice floated over to him, stopping the duke in his tracks. His bride was seated upon a stone bench beside a primrose bush. The morning light painted her in tones of cream and gold, and she was dressed in a soft gown of white muslin. Her hair curled becomingly around her face, and her blue eyes seemed to brighten with mirth. She was the most radiant creature he’d ever espied.

Fuck. Gregory had stumbled into a damnable snare. If he tried to turn away from her, he’d only be drawn back closer than before.

“Morning,” he said. Julia frowned and stood. She held a rosebud she’d snipped from one of the bushes and played it thoughtfully upon her chin.

“You seem distant,” she said. Was he mad, or did she look a bit shy? “Was there something you wanted?”

Yes. There was. He wanted no distance between them, and no clothes, either. Gregory was not going to mince about and hope for a signal; he would take action.

“You left our bedchamber, my dear. I find that quite rude,” he replied. She responded with a teasing smile, one that made him think of the delicious ways to employ that mouth of hers. What a heavenly prospect.

“Surely a little fresh air and exercise are crucial to a happy marriage.”

“I’m afraid those are precisely the things a honeymoon doesn’t require.”

Julia went into his arms very willingly, and her kiss matched his in passion. Thank God, she didn’t seem to want him to leave. He still gave her pleasure enough that she craved more of him. Would she wish him gone tomorrow? The next day? He didn’t know or care. For now, Gregory was going to enjoy himself. Thoroughly.

Julia dropped her rosebud as Gregory hoisted her up and carried her out of the garden.

“Your Grace, what will the servants think?” she asked breathlessly.

“They may think whatever they like, so long as we’re not disturbed.”

…

They were not disturbed for the next several days. Even Miss Winslow managed to wrangle Felicity out of their way, though Julia did insist upon seeing the child at tea or for a walk or a picnic. Though Gregory would have been glad to remain naked and locked in his bedchamber with her, he could refuse her nothing.

Especially because she refused him nothing in return.

Had Gregory ever planned to leave Lynton Park, or Julia? The memories of booking passage to Spain felt like some bizarre dream, laughable whenever he awoke beside his new wife and made love to her again. He wrote to his bank and told them to send funds to Madrid, as much money as was required. He’d give the Guzmáns his entire fortune if it meant he could remain in Julia’s arms.

She relished their lovemaking as much as he did. They came to know the duke and duchess’s bedrooms very well. They didn’t remain in only the bedchambers, either. Gregory and his new duchess christened the study, the eastern parlor, and the library as well.

The library provided especial opportunities for pleasure. Julia came up with the most delicious idea as she took another volume of bloody Shakespeare from off the shelf.

“Can you recite sonnet sixteen perfectly from memory?” she asked him coyly.

“Am I a performing monkey for Her Grace?” Gregory took the book from Julia’s hands and laid her out upon a settee. “All beasts deserve reward for their endeavors.”

“Then let me amend my request. Recite sonnet sixteen perfectly,” Julia said, her hands beginning to undo his trousers. “So long as you don’t make a mistake, I won’t stop.”

“You’re a diabolical harridan,” Gregory said, his eyes closing in bliss as she wrapped her hand around his throbbing member.

“That’s not how the sonnet begins, Your Grace.”

“Fine.” He hissed as he felt the quiver of her lips upon his manhood, and then the velvet slip of her tongue. “‘But wherefore do you not a mightier way make war upon this bloody tyrant, Time?’”

Julia hummed as she worked, which almost caused him to spend straightaway. “You certainly know your Shakespeare, my dear.”

“He’s only the finest poet known to the English tongue,” he replied.

Julia gave ample demonstration of how talented her own tongue was. It’s a miracle she didn’t finish him off right then.

Gregory continued his recitation, groaning inwardly as his wife’s golden head bobbed on his cock. When he was on the precipice of release, he fumbled a line by mistake and almost had a heart attack when she stopped her ministrations and adopted a coy smile upon seeing his discomfort.

“Intolerable hussy,” Gregory snarled.

“Shakespeare never wrote those words.”

Oh, she was a marvel, this woman. Gregory found his way back to the poem and uttered the last line—“And you must live, drawn by your own sweet skill”—just as Julia took him as deep into her mouth as she could. His hips surged as he finished, and he was weak with enjoyment as he felt her drink deeply of him.

“Mostly excellent, Your Grace,” she purred. Gregory had her lounge back upon the settee while he pushed her skirts up to her waist.

“I’m afraid we’ll need to test your own skill now, duchess. Sonnet twenty-nine, if you please.”

“That’s hardly a challenge,” she replied, clear eyes flashing with glee as Gregory bent his head, caressing her inner thigh with his lips. “‘When in disgrace with fortune and men’—Oh!” she shrieked when he began.

“Careful. That wasn’t correct,” he whispered, smiling to hear her moans of frustration and bliss as he continued.

Gregory could not think of anywhere else in England or on this planet he would rather be than with Julia. In bed with her, their naked bodies pressed close; beneath the outspread branches of a tree outside, enjoying the natural splendor with no one for miles to reprimand them for their obscene behavior. Even when fully clothed, he loved dining with her and listening to her laughter and opinions on everything from the state of modern Parliament to poetry. She was also a woman who didn’t believe in wasting time. Even while on her honeymoon, she visited the town of Lynton and looked in on the dame school, which she found less than satisfactory. Apparently, Gregory had not paid enough attention to how the village children were educated, which Julia would fix straightaway. He felt the most intense pride in watching his duchess throw herself into her duty with determined enthusiasm, insisting that any and all tenants under her protection would receive the best of everything.

She was wonderful. She was beautiful, and brilliant, and charitable, and exquisite in bed, but more than that she was in every way a delight to his senses.

He’d never before known what it was like to want someone by his side at every moment of every day. To think of something funny and want instantly to tell it so he could hear the sound of her laughter. And so far, through all of this, she hadn’t yet grown tired of him.

Gregory was certain that eventually the ecstasy of their lovemaking would fade, as it always did. Then they’d part, surely. It would be easy, and without pain.

So that night, after he and Julia had finished another breathless round of lovemaking, she surprised him with a rather forward idea.

“Do you think we might continue on like this?” She laid her head upon his chest as she spoke.

“Hmm? Are you in an uncomfortable position?” He frowned.

“I don’t mean physically laying upon you.” She sounded as though she were rolling her eyes. Gregory would have to exact delicious punishment on her for that. “I mean, Your Grace, would it be possible to continue as we are?”

“As we are?” he echoed, still not certain he understood, though Julia’s ever-deepening blush suggested something momentous.

“We seem to do well together, don’t we?” she asked. They did far better than well, and she had to know it. “Perhaps you don’t need to go abroad. We might return to London together next month for the close of the Season.”

“And after the Season?” He could scarcely feel her in his arms now; his whole body seemed to have gone numb from the shock. She couldn’t mean what he thought she meant. Could she?

“After the Season we might return home, to Lynton Park. Or go abroad ourselves. Together.”

“You mean for this marriage to be a true one?” Gregory was shocked by the suggestion, even though they were literally married.

“It’s unimportant.” Julia began to turn from him, but Gregory held her close.

It was against everything they had planned, this suggestion. Before they’d made love, he would have adamantly refused even the possibility. Gregory had prepared for the pain of letting her go, but he could never have known the joy she would bring him until he experienced it firsthand. And as one day led to the next and Julia still did not ask him to leave, he began to feel at home. At Lynton Park, with her, with the servants and Felicity, with everything he’d sworn he would never have. A life of commitment to one other person, and all that entailed.

If he had adored her less, he would have felt the fear more. But as it stood, Gregory found himself agreeing with Julia’s suggestion.

“Perhaps,” he said. He was amazed at his own words. “Perhaps that could work.”

“Truly?” Her eyes lit up. She was gorgeous when she was happy. He wanted to keep her that gorgeous always.

“After all, some time spent flaunting my bride before the ton would suit me nicely.”

Julia sighed in seeming exasperation. “Of course. You must be admired wherever you go.”

Gregory pressed his lips to the crown of her head. “I meant I should like to be the envy of every man in town with you on my arm.”

“Oh.” God, he loved making her blush. “Well. I’m more than some possession, you know.”

But Julia smiled as he kissed her.

“Believe me, my dear. I know that only too well.”

As they returned to kissing, and everything that kissing led to, Gregory thought of this brave new world he was heading toward. A true marriage. A true husband and wife. The thought no longer terrified him; now he felt himself straining eagerly toward such a union.

He would make no firm decision now. He would wait until at least the end of the Season before coming to any conclusions. But if all this remained as good as it was now, then perhaps…

Well. Perhaps this rake truly had been redeemed.

…

“I’ve never known the duke to spend so much time at Lynton Park before. You are an excellent influence on him, Your Grace.”

Miss Winslow and Julia were seated upon a blanket, watching as Gregory showed Felicity how to properly wield a croquet mallet. Julia appreciated the duke’s agile, muscular form as he demonstrated a perfect technique.

“We’ve been in residence here nearly two weeks. That’s unusual?” she asked Miss Winslow.

“Oh yes, Your Grace. The duke rarely stays more than a week, if that.”

“I think it’s good for Felicity to have him about,” Julia said thoughtfully. After all, the child needed someone she could view as a father.

“If I may say so, I think it’s good for His Grace to have you around, ma’am.”

“Yes. I suppose I rein him in a bit.” Julia smiled. “Or at least tire him out.”

Julia laughed, and Miss Winslow joined in. Julia had never felt so relaxed, seated beneath the dappled shade of a tree and watching Gregory enjoy himself. Her eyes were innately drawn to wherever her husband happened to be; she’d seek him out even when she was thinking of something else. Then again, these days she rarely thought about anything else. Thank God for her little school project in the village of Lynton, or she really would have been happy to remain in bed with her husband for days on end.

Every morning that she woke beside him was better than the last. Julia hadn’t known that the married act between a man and a woman could be so heavenly. Every part of Gregory thrilled her, from the strength of his body to the fire of his intelligence and the ease of his charm. Every day Julia spent with him, she wanted only one thing: more. More of this, of them together.

And he’d agreed, hadn’t he? Two nights ago, he’d agreed that this marriage between them might become something true. Julia would not have only the title and wealth of the Duchess of Ashworth, but the duke as well. In truth, she’d come to feel that her title was nothing without Gregory.

He was the most devastatingly wonderful lover she could have hoped for. And she liked him, more than she probably should.

But maybe they really could make this marriage a true one. If he believed it was possible, then perhaps Julia could have some faith.

“I wonder who that is?” Miss Winslow frowned as a horse and rider appeared on the edge of the park, cantering rather quickly toward the picnickers.

“Is he a messenger?” Julia squinted, trying to make the man out. “Ah. Doubtful, if the fine cut of his clothes is any indication. I didn’t realize Ashworth had neighbors; the estate seems so quiet.”

“Oh.” Miss Winslow put a hand to her mouth, and to Julia’s surprise went quite pale. That is, until two pink spots appeared on the woman’s cheeks.

“Who is it?” Julia asked.

“It may be His Grace, the Duke of Huntington.” Miss Winslow instantly cast her eyes down and began to neaten the edge of the blanket again and again. “He owns a smaller estate not five miles from here. The Duke of Ashworth and His Grace are quite friendly. So I believe,” the governess added quickly.

“Indeed.” Julia watched the woman carefully, but Miss Winslow became coolheaded again upon the instant.

“Huntington!” Gregory roared, laying aside his croquet mallet as the duke cantered up and stopped his horse. “The devil are you doing here?”

Julia went quickly to the men as the duke climbed down from his horse and made her a hasty bow in greeting.

“Your Grace? Your servant,” the man said, bending politely over her hand.

“The Duke of Huntington, is it?” Julia made a quick curtsy. She’d heard of the Duke of Huntington before but had never seen him. He hadn’t even been at their wedding, and nearly everyone in the ton had attended.

“Yes. My apologies for our not meeting until now. I’ve been in France, and this fiend you’ve married would decide to wed while I was away.” Huntington grinned as Ashworth slapped him on the back.

“Hunt’s an old friend, Julia.” Gregory appeared delighted. “Hopefully you’ve come to stay to dinner, you bastard.”

Julia laughed, pleased when her husband waived formality in front of her.

“You seem to have chosen the proper bride, Ashworth.” Huntington bowed again to Julia in a complimentary manner. She could at least understand Miss Winslow’s fluttery excitement upon seeing him. The man was even taller than Gregory, perhaps all of six and a half feet, with hair that was a brilliant blond and eyes of sky blue. To Julia, Gregory remained the most handsome man alive, but this duke certainly gave him fine competition.

“Come along. We’ll have Miss Winslow take Felicity up to the schoolroom,” Gregory said.

“You’ll also want to begin packing,” Huntington replied as they began to return to the house.

“I beg pardon?” Julia couldn’t help her surprise.

“Forgive me, but this isn’t a mere social call on an old friend and his new wife,” Huntington said. “I’ve come to you with a message, Ashworth. From Her Majesty.”

“The queen?” Gregory and Julia exchanged bewildered glances. “What the devil does the queen want with me?”

“She wants to see you and Her Grace at once.” Huntington grinned. “The Duke and Duchess of Ashworth are being summoned back to London with all due haste.”