If only wishes came true.
Chapter 19
Jessica awoke with a start. The slant of the sun told her it was late afternoon. She’d fallen asleep on the chaise and slept for several hours. Someone had come in and placed a light throw over her. As she pushed herself up, a voice she knew very well spoke from her left.
“Good afternoon,” Damien greeted her pleasantly. “I was beginning to wonder if my fiancée had turned into Sleeping Beauty and could only be awakened with a kiss.”
“There is no kiss needed, thank you very much,” Jessica answered tartly. She was immediately awake and alert, and would not let down her guard for an instant.
“Ah, my loss,” Damien lamented.
“Why are you here?” She tried to make her question merely curious, but somehow it came out confrontational.
He rose and stood over her. Her gaze traveled over his broad chest covered in its sheath of white linen, up to his mouth—oh, Lord, that mouth—to his eyes. They told her nothing, so she forced herself to look away.
“I have something to tell you,” he said.
His tone was serious, and brought her gaze back to his face. She waited for him to continue. He appeared uncomfortable, as if he were not quite sure how to say what he had to tell her.
His uncertainty, so unlike him, caused her imagination to run wild. Something had happened to Jason. He no longer wanted the babe she carried. She was going to be arrested as a spy. Her apprehension made the last, perhaps most important question tumble from her.
“Are you calling off the wedding, Your Grace?”
Damien grinned. “Hardly, my love. I am eagerly looking forward to the day when you will become my wife.” He sat on the edge of the chaise. “No, what I have to tell you is dark news.”
Jessica remained silent and anxious.
He took her hand and said seriously, “There will be no need for you to worry about your statement for Madame’s trial.”
Panic swept through her. She was going to be brought to trial. Damien no longer believed in her innocence.
“Jessica.” Damien’s voice captured her attention. “Madame du Barré is dead.”
“Dead?” she repeated, not quite comprehending.
“Yes,” he said gently. “It seems someone smuggled poison to her in prison. She was discovered this morning.”
Jessica tried to assimilate the information. Then, it sunk in. She covered her face with her hands. “She killed herself. Oh, God.”
Damien tugged her hands down and held them, his grip warm and comforting. “Jessica.”
She shook her head, confused and appalled. “She was so kind to me when I first came to London. I know she only used me, but she was the closest thing to a friend I had. Why did she have to be a spy?”
“She did what she felt was right,” Damien said gently. “I think her suicide was for the best. She had been disowned by her superior for failing to capture me, and she knew she would find no mercy here.”
Jessica nodded sadly. “You are probably right. Thank you for telling me.” She slipped her fingers from his grasp, not wanting to appear weak.
“I also wanted to return this to you.” He held up a gold chain.
“My locket!” she exclaimed. “I thought I had lost it.”
“Madame sent it as proof that she had you,” he said. “It must mean a great deal to you.”
“My parents gave it to me when I was a little girl.” Tears sprang to her eyes at the memory.
“Is the woman’s portrait of your mother?”
Jessica nodded.
“She was very beautiful. You look just like her.” His tone was level, without emotion.
Jessica wondered what he was thinking. The other miniature portrait inside was of her father. Damien had shown great restraint by not destroying the piece.
“Thank you for returning it,” she said.
He undid the clasp, leaned forward, and re-clasped the chain around her neck. As he sat back, his fingers brushed her neck. The touch was a reminder of what he could make her feel with those fingers. In that moment, she forgot about her anger, her hurt. She felt comforted by his presence. It would be so easy to say yes to him… She caught her wayward thoughts and inched back.
Damien quirked a smile as though he’d guessed her thoughts. “I have also come to change your bandages.”
Jessica gazed at him suspiciously. “Donny can do that. There is no need to concern yourself about me.”
“Why should I not be concerned about my future wife?” he asked. Without waiting for an answer, he said, “Donny has gone out shopping with my mother.”
“Then Frannie, or one of the other maids can do it,” she tried.
The last thing she wanted was to sit half undressed before him. She was much too aware of what his touch could do to her. She could not take back her demand of the night before.
“I have given many of the maids the afternoon off. They will be working long hours soon enough to prepare for our wedding. The other servants are busy.” He dismissed any further argument by tugging at the ribbons on her dressing gown.
Panic gripped her. She was practically alone with him in the house. What did he mean to do?
Damien chuckled at her expression. “Believe it or not, love, I am not an ogre. I merely came to change your bandages and spend some time with you. Despite our intimacy, we have had little time to get to know each other. You are, after all, my betrothed, and I have seen you without your clothes. Please, unbutton your nightrail.”
Jessica looked down and realized he already had her dressing gown untied. While she tried to decide whether or not to comply, he waited patiently. He had agreed to her demand of the night before, and her bandage did need to be changed. Yet, had he really given the servants time off to be generous?
She gazed into his face to try to guess his true intentions. His eyes locked with hers, and she could feel herself falling under their spell. With a great amount of effort, she managed to look away. The barrier which she thought she had erected about her emotions was not as strong as she had believed.
“Jessica,” he said kindly, “I will not harm you, and I will keep to our agreement. For now.”
Jessica slanted a glance at him. His return smile was all innocence. With a nod of assent, she unbuttoned her gown. He helped her pull it off her injured shoulder. Unfortunately, it was necessary to lower it to her waist in order for him to remove her bandage. Staring straight ahead, with blazing cheeks, she sat quietly as he removed the old dressing.
His hands were gentle and practiced. But the touch of him against her skin made her flinch more than once, not from fear, but from desire. She wanted to relax into him, to feel his fingers trace down across her breasts. Gritting her teeth, she suppressed a moan of desire that clogged her throat. How was she ever going to keep to the demand that she had forced on Damien last night?
Damien was having trouble keeping his desire tamped down. The swell of her creamy-skinned breasts laid bare before him nearly undid him. He had agreed to Jessica’s preposterous demand of the night before because he could see that was the only way to get her to be his wife. Once that was accomplished, he would find a way to get her back into his bed. He had never wanted a woman so much in his life. And he wanted this woman. With more self-control than he thought he possessed, after one quick glance, he kept his eyes on the strips of cloth. He was damned if he would be the one to break their agreement.
With a flourish, he tied off the bandage and sat back, relieved he could give himself space. He helped her pull her clothes back on because she was still a bit stiff and confined by her bandage. And he needed to have her covered for his peace of mind.
She looked up at him with curiosity. “You seem very familiar with changing bandages,” she observed. “Are you a student of the science of medicine, as well as a soldier and a spy?”
“Were you in France when you received the scar across your chest?” she asked.
The memory burst into his brain. He had nearly died from loss of blood when he had received that wound. Only Edward’s nursing skills had kept him alive. He shrugged, ignoring the cold sweat that broke out on his back. “It was a minor disagreement with a gentleman who refused to allow us to kidnap his mistress. He was an excellent swordsman.”
Her eyes widened. “How terrible! You could have been killed!”
Damien lifted an amused eyebrow. “I did not think you were so concerned about my health.”
She blushed, but her voice was cool as she said, “I am concerned about the pain of all God’s creatures.”
“How humanitarian of you,” he observed dryly as he rose and walked to the window. He stood gazing out. “Then you will be very distressed to learn that the gentleman who gave me the scar is missing the last finger of his right hand.”
“Oh!” She covered her eyes as if to blot out the vivid picture. “How could you do such a thing?” she demanded. “How can you remain so unmoved?”
“Unmoved?” He swung around to face her. “I am far from unmoved at the things I have been forced to do to remain alive. I am not cold and heartless. I am, rather, well aware of man’s cunning and deceit. Perhaps too much so. I have practiced it too long myself. I have not always enjoyed the role I played.”
“Yet, you remained in it for several years,” she accused.
He smiled ruefully. “Ah, yes, the contradiction. I think I can explain it best by asking you a question, Lady Fortuna. Did you always enjoy your role of adventuress at Madame du Barré’s?”
“But that was different,” she protested. “I did it because Margaret forced me into it. I did it because of my br—” Her words halted. “I never hurt or maimed anyone,” she finished.
He wondered how she would have finished that interrupted statement, but he did not pursue. He would get her to tell him eventually.
He raised a cool brow. “Were all those gentlemen with whom you gambled so wealthy that they could afford to lose the exorbitant sums which you won from them?”
“I did not ask them about their financial stability when they sat down to play cards,” she said in her defense. “If they had the money on the table, then I considered it fair to try to win it. If they did not lose to me, it would have been to someone else. I could not afford to be altruistic.”
Damien smiled as he watched her realize that her own logic had lost the debate for her. “As I could not afford to be merciful,” he said. “We are not so different, are we, my love? He strolled to the chaise and cupped her chin in his hand. “Perhaps our marriage will be a good one after all.” He dropped a kiss on her cheek, then strode to the door. With his hand on the latch, he turned. “Rest for the remainder of the day. I believe an appointment has been made with my mother’s modiste for tomorrow so that you may be measured for your wedding gown. I do not wish to dally any longer over the plans for this wedding than is necessary. I should think a fortnight would be long enough to ready yourself.” He opened the door but did not leave immediately. Instead he paused, and, in a softer tone, said, “I enjoyed this discussion, Jessica. I hope to have many more with you after we are married.” Then he left, whistling. But he knew the next two weeks of waiting would be torture.
Chapter 20
Two weeks later, the morning of the wedding dawned clear and bright, a distinct contrast to the weather which had preceded it. The birds chirped merrily, and the sky held no hint of rain. Jessica was awake early enough to watch the sky turn from soft gray to blush pink to bright blue. She listened as the house began to come awake and relished her last few minutes of solitude before Donny and the other maids descended on her to ready her for the grand event.
Thankfully, her stomach was behaving, and she was not queasy as she had been on many mornings of late. Her gaze landed on her wedding gown which had arrived from the modiste the day before. In a few short hours, she would be dressed in it and walking down the aisle to become Damien’s bride. Despite their tumultuous beginning, she prayed that their marriage would be a happy one. Whether it’s happy or not depends just as much on you as on him, an inner voice told her.
A knock came at the door, and it opened to admit Donny followed by two maids carrying steaming kettles of water for her bath.
“Aye and tis a fair day for yer weddin’,” Donny beamed. “A fair day, indeed.”
Jessica could not quite summon the same excitement. Butterflies danced madly in her stomach.
The morning sped past. She was pampered and perfumed, and felt somewhat like a pagan virgin being made ready for sacrifice before a heathen god. She realized the comparison was not far from wrong. Damien was very capable of cutting out her heart with just a glance from those damnable green eyes.
Finally, she was ready. She stood before Donny and the other maids as they inspected her for any flaw.
One of the maids sighed. “Lawr, just like a fairy princess.”
Jessica felt like a fairy princess. Her gown was made of creamy satin and fell to the floor in simple lines. The toes of her matching shoes poked out at the hem. The neckline was cut low enough to tease, but high enough to retain her modesty. The long sleeves puffed at the shoulders and then tightly hugged her arms to the wrists. A train of the same material as her dress fell from her shoulders, held on by ties knotted in bows. Her hair was pulled up into little ringlets by a simple gold band studded with tiny diamonds. It had been a gift from Damien’s mother on their last shopping expedition together. Covering her head and face and trailing down her back to the length of the train was a veil of Spanish lace.
The Duchess knocked and entered. She smiled warmly. “You look lovely, Jessica.” She handed Jessica a white leather case. “Damien asked me to give this to you.”
Jessica opened the case and gasped when she saw its contents. Inside, lay a magnificent necklace of sapphires and diamonds with earrings to match.
“It is the customary gift of the Duke of Wyndham to his bride on their wedding day,” the Duchess explained.
“But I cannot accept these,” Jessica protested. “These are your jewels.”
The Duchess shook her head. “Not any more. In a short while, you will be the new Duchess of Wyndham. These are not mine any longer.” She grinned. “Besides, they will look much better on you than they ever did on me. They always clashed with my eyes.”
The lady took the necklace out of the case and clasped it about Jessica’s throat. Then she clipped on the earrings. She stood back and inspected her handiwork.
“Perfect.” The Duchess smiled. “We should go now. We have kept my son waiting long enough.”
Jessica’s heart fluttered, but she followed the Duchess out the bedroom door. She wondered how Damien was feeling at this moment. Was he as nervous as she was? No, that man was never ruffled. He would be cool and remote, as he always was.
She descended the stairs slowly, trying to keep her composure. Activity bustled all around her. A wedding banquet would be held in the ballroom after the ceremony. Jessica stepped out into the sunshine and climbed into the carriage. The Duchess and then Donny followed. Her nanny would take care of any last minute primping that had to be done. The carriage moved off, and she sat back to contemplate her fate.
The ride to the church seemed an eternity, yet not long enough to suit her. As they stood in the vestibule, the Duchess sent her a worried glance. “Are you all right?” she asked. At Jessica’s faint nod, she whispered, “Be brave, Jessica,” and gave her a quick hug. “It will be over sooner than you realize.” Then she turned and walked down the aisle to take her place at
the front of the cathedral.
Jessica stood alone in the vestibule. The lofty notes of the massive organ sent a shiver through her. She was grateful that her soon-to-be mother-in-law was kind and supportive. She didn’t know what she would have done if the dowager Duchess had been anything like Margaret.
Donny fussed with Jessica’s veil and her train. One of the footmen handed her a single, white rose and told her it was from His Grace. The organ music changed, and she sent a pleading glance at Donny. Her nanny just smiled broadly and motioned for her to start walking.
Jessica gazed down the length of the cathedral. She swallowed hard, and somehow, her feet began to move her forward. She had a fleeting impression of curious and smiling faces, but the main focus of her attention was the man dressed in elegant black velvet and white silk who watched her approach with glittering, green eyes. Beside him stood Edward Johnson, the witness to the wedding. His smile was friendly and warm, and gave Jessica a boost of confidence.
Damien held out a darkly tanned hand to her. As she placed her small one on his, she looked up into his face. He raised a brow and a corner of his mouth twitched up, then he turned to lead her to where the priest stood waiting. She had a sudden urge to flee back down the aisle, but she repressed the feeling. Both her unborn child and her brother depended on her.
She knelt beside Damien as the priest said a short prayer, then stood to exchange vows with the man beside her. She listened intently as he stated his vows.
“To love, honor, and protect…and I pledge thee my troth.” His voice was firm and low, and he sounded as if he meant every word.
The Duke Who Loved Me: On His Majesty's Secret Service Book 1 Page 24