Derek

by Aston, Alexa

  Lady Merrick shook her head. “I think the world of Oliver and would have been fortunate to claim him as my husband. We got along so well together.” She smiled. “But it was always Merrick for me. Now that I see Oliver with Diana, I know they, too, were meant to be together. Just as you and Trumbull are.”

  “I’ve never kissed him,” she blurted out.

  The marchioness looked startled. “Why not?”

  “When I told him I’d never been kissed before, he said he would be the first to do so at the altar when I took his name.”

  “Hmm.” Lady Merrick’s brow creased in thought.

  “I know he has a horrible reputation. That most in the ton think him a scoundrel. Maybe he didn’t want to kiss me. Maybe I shouldn’t be marrying him.”

  Lady Merrick’s hand cupped Amelia’s cheek. “He asked to wed you, my dear. Perhaps he’s more of a gentleman than any of us ever dreamed. You will go to him unspoiled.”

  “And woefully ignorant,” she said bitterly.

  “Has no one spoken to you of the marriage bed?” the marchioness asked softly.

  “Not really. Mama . . . well, you know Mama has been away many years.” Amelia didn’t like to think of her mother, who’d gone mad after their father’s death and currently lived in an asylum. “And it’s nothing I would ever talk with Oliver about.”

  Quickly, Lady Merrick explained what Amelia should expect to happen once she and Trumbull retired to their chamber. Some of it surprised her but at least she understood more of what the marital act involved now.

  “Tell him to go slowly if you’re unsure of anything. He’ll be your husband, Amelia. He’ll want to please you. Take care of you. You’ll have a lifetime to explore so many possibilities together.” The marchioness kissed her cheek. “Do your best to please him and see that he pleases you in return.”

  “How will I know what to do?”

  “He’ll guide you. And nature has a way of taking over. Your passion will lead you in the right direction.”

  “Oh.”

  Amelia regretted that she felt no passion for Trumbull. He seemed more of a duty to her. A man she would wed and bed and provide heirs. The thought of lying with him paralyzed her with fear. She hoped Lady Merrick was right and that everything would work out.

  A knock sounded at the door.

  “It must be time to start,” the marchioness said as she went to the door and opened it.

  Oliver awaited, looking as handsome as he had on his wedding day. Seeing him almost caused Amelia to burst into tears. She wondered if it was too late to change her mind as doubt plagued her. Then she decided that would be foolish. Everyone had already gone to so much trouble for her, especially the Marquess and Marchioness of Merrick. She’d eventually have to wed someone. It might as well be Trumbull. He checked off all the requirements on the ton’s list.

  Except she didn’t love him. And he didn’t love her.

  Still, she was an adult now. In charge of her own life. Her marriage would allow her to begin her own family and allow Oliver to start a new one with Diana, Finn, and Mena.

  As her brother entered, Lady Merrick excused herself. Oliver said, “You make a most beautiful bride, Amelia. I’m very proud of you today.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Diana has seen Thea settled on a chair near the front. Once I escort you to Trumbull, I’ll help Thea up so she can stand with you as you take your vows.”

  “She told me she’d tied ribbons on her crutches so they’d look festive.” Amelia attempted to smile.

  “Are you ready?” he asked.

  “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

  Oliver embraced her and, for a moment, she soaked in all his warmth.

  “You’ve always given the best hugs,” she said as they parted. “I don’t remember Father or Mother ever hugging me, but you did from the moment you told me about his death.”

  He embraced her again.

  “Don’t ever stop hugging me, Oliver. I’ll always need them from you,” she said softly.

  He offered his arm to her. “And I expect the same from you.”

  Leading her from the room, they ventured down the corridor and the wide staircase. They reached the foyer and headed to the drawing room, where two servants opened the doors and allowed them inside. Amelia saw the small group of guests gathered. Most were Oliver’s friends. The Evertons. The Mayfields. The Alfords. And their hosts, the Merricks.

  She spotted Derek sitting next to Thea and the hurt in her heart made her turn away. Colin caught her eyes and smiled broadly. Then she saw a few of Trumbull’s friends, Carrion and Birdville, looking sober for the first time since she’d met them. Both were known rakes and, even now, right as she was about to wed their friend, they eyed her as if she were still on the Marriage Mart. It infuriated her and, once again, Amelia wondered what she was getting herself into by marrying into Trumbull’s circle.

  Finally, she saw his father. The Duke of Durham had received them for tea two days ago. Amelia had been apprehensive about meeting him but he’d been charming to her, though a bit distant to his son. Knowing the two had never gotten along would be her new cause. She would see that, if not loving toward one another, they would learn to be friendly and comfortable in each other’s presence. After all, Durham would be grandfather to their children. She wanted the duke to be a part of their lives.

  Oliver led her to Trumbull and handed her off. Her groom was turned out in a dark green jacket and buff pants that spoke well of his talented tailor. Every woman on the Marriage Mart would be jealous that Amelia had landed such a handsome, distinguished husband. He clasped her hand and they faced the minister.

  It suddenly hit Amelia that she didn’t even know her groom’s given name.

  Oliver had helped Thea join them and she turned to her friend. Thea winked at her and Amelia relaxed. Everything would be all right. She would marry Trumbull and . . .

  And what?

  She supposed life was a mystery to be solved as the months and years unfolded. Her fondest wish would be that she and Trumbull would grow close. Even come to love each other. If they didn’t, she would still have her place in society and children to raise. She would have her family and friends.

  Would it be enough?

  Frowning, Amelia concentrated on the clergyman’s words, finally learning her husband’s given name as the man of the cloth said, “Do you, Lord Trumbull, Roy Ashbury, take Lady Amelia Ward as your wedded wife?”

  The vows went on. Trumbull—Roy—looked down upon her with a hint of a smile as he spoke his, as if she were his secret from the world. Oh, she hoped he really did care for her a little bit though she could never, ever call him Roy. The name sounded ridiculous and didn’t fit him in the least.

  “My lady?” the clergyman prompted.

  She swallowed as he repeated the words she hadn’t said and she echoed them. Her heart thumped wildly and, suddenly, the man proclaimed them husband and wife.

  Trumbull turned her toward him. “Your first kiss, Amelia,” he said so softly that she doubted even the preacher heard what he said.

  She licked her lips nervously and nodded. “Go ahead.”

  His hands ran up her arms to her shoulders, bringing a chill as he held her firmly in place. Then his lips grazed hers and lifted.

  That was it.

  That was it?

  Amelia thought of Oliver and Diana and their amorous kisses which seemed to go on and on. Perhaps Trumbull thought she might be embarrassed by such a long show of affection in front of their guests. He was right. She didn’t want what happened between them to be studied by those in public. Instead, their next kiss would be much different. It would be in private—and lead to other things.

  “May I present to you Lord and Lady Trumbull!” the minister proclaimed.

  The guests applauded politely, unlike the cheers that she’d heard at Oliver and Diana’s wedding. She understood that most of those in attendance didn’t know Trumbull well and what they did know wasn�
��t pleasing. It was up to her to show them her husband wasn’t the man they thought he was.

  She hoped she’d be able to do so.

  They faced everyone and Amelia sensed Derek’s eyes boring into her. She forced herself to look straight ahead and paste a smile on her face as Trumbull led her from the room and toward the ballroom where their wedding breakfast awaited them.

  As they walked in and took a seat at the table for the bride and groom, Amelia prayed she would be able to get through the rest of the day.

  Amelia allowed Diana and Lady Merrick to fuss over her as she changed from her wedding gown to one more suitable for travel. The wedding breakfast had gone on for two hours, with toasts from Oliver and one from Trumbull’s friend that made little sense to her. She’d made small talk with their guests and then excused herself to come upstairs. Part of her was eager to see what her new life with her husband would bring, while another part wished she could stay here since so much was unknown to her. She and Trumbull would now leave London and head directly to his estate in Essex. She didn’t know its name, much less how long it took to reach it. She didn’t even know how long they planned to stay. Already, she was missing her family and friends and hadn’t even said goodbye to them yet. Her feelings troubled her but she knew she’d committed to Trumbull and would make the best of things with him.

  She only hoped he was as committed to her.

  Had he given up any mistress he’d kept? Would he be faithful to her—at least until she had provided him with an heir? Durham had told Amelia it was up to her to keep his son in line. Trumbull had chuckled at his father’s words, assuring him that his fiancée had a firm grip on him. It didn’t feel as though she did. To her, holding on to Trumbull would be like trying to capture water. Some might stay in the palm of her hand, but much of it would spill over the sides or leak through her fingers. Amelia still felt as if she barely knew the man she now called husband.

  Well, they had decades together ahead of them. She would invest time in getting to know everything about him. His favorite food. His favorite color. Whether he favored brown to black horses or autumn to spring. Trumbull was like a fat tome she’d never opened. She was eager to do so and thumb through its pages, getting to know the contents.

  Heading downstairs, she saw their guests awaited. Amelia went to each one present, thanking them for their attendance and telling them goodbye. Thea revealed that her plaster would come off in the next two weeks and she looked forward to getting out and about.

  “Promise me we’ll go a few places together,” her friend begged. “Even though you’re an old married lady now.”

  “Of course,” Amelia assured her. “We’ll go to Gunter’s for ices. I’ll have Trumbull take us through the park. And you must attend the opera. Trumbull’s box is a good one.”

  Thea’s face glowed with happiness. “I’m looking forward to all of that.”

  “All of what?”

  Amelia saw Derek had joined them. “Your sister and I are making plans for when she’s not hobbled by her broken leg. Once it mends, we plan to get out. I daresay we’ll do some shopping,” she said, knowing he thought her frivolous and featherbrained.

  “I’d love to get a new hat,” Thea said. “To wear for when we go to the opera.”

  Derek’s face darkened. “The opera?”

  “Yes,” Amelia said. “My husband has excellent seats for both the opera and theatre. Once Thea’s ready to be out and about, I want her to attend both with us.”

  “That won’t be possible,” he said.

  “Why not?” she demanded, keeping her voice low.

  “Thea’s yet to make her come-out. I must watch and make sure she’s only seen in the best of company before her debut.”

  Amelia felt her face flame. “And you’re saying Trumbull and I aren’t suitable company for her?”

  “Yes.” He hesitated and then said, “It’s not you, Amelia. You’ll always be welcome to visit Thea on your own at our townhouse. Even go shopping or to a gallery with her during the day. Being responsible for my sister, though, I have to ensure her reputation remains spotless. Your husband belongs to a dubious crowd. I can’t see Thea’s name harmed by being linked with such a group.”

  “I see.” She looked to her friend, who remained dumbfounded by her brother’s words. “It’s all right, Thea. We’ll spend time together. I understand what your brother is saying. Hopefully, the ton will see that marriage has changed Trumbull. Now, I must part from you.”

  Amelia kissed Thea’s cheek and then glanced to Derek. “Lord Reston.”

  She hurried away, telling Colin goodbye and then kissing the twins and then Diana and Oliver.

  “Are you ready, Lady Trumbull?” her husband asked with a charming smile. “It’s time to depart.”

  Hearing her new title startled Amelia but she took his offered arm. “Yes, Lord Trumbull.”

  They went to the waiting carriage and he handed her up, climbing in and seating himself opposite her. Though disappointed, she kept silent as he tapped on the roof and the carriage went into motion. Amelia waved out the window to those who’d accompanied them outside and then settled back against the cushions.

  Her husband’s eyes were already closed.

  “Would you care to sit with me, Trumbull?”

  He opened his eyes. “I hate riding in carriages.” He moved into the corner and leaned against it, swinging his legs up to the seat and stretching out. His eyes closed again.

  Amelia bit her lip. This wouldn’t do.

  “Talk to me, Trumbull,” she commanded.

  He opened one eye and then shut it again. “I think not. I told you. I don’t like carriages. I’d have preferred riding my own horse but I know appearances are important. Wake me when we’ve arrived.”

  “And when would that be, my lord? And where, exactly? You’ve told me nothing of your estate. Not its name or its size. What village is closest to it. How long it takes to reach.”

  Her husband didn’t answer. Amelia didn’t know if it was because he’d already fallen asleep or he didn’t care to provide the answers. Hurt rippled through her to be cast aside already, not even worthy of a few minutes of conversation.

  She stared out the window, watching the teeming streets of London go by. Then they left the city behind and she studied the countryside for several hours. The carriage turned up a lane and she supposed they were about to arrive at Trumbull’s country estate. No, their estate. All she knew was that they were somewhere in Essex.

  “We’re almost there,” she said loudly, stretching a foot out and nudging his leg with it.

  He sighed and sat up, smoothing his jacket.

  The vehicle turned and Amelia saw the house was as lovely as the drive they’d come up. She hoped the inside would prove as nice. If not, she would set about improving it. She wanted to put her own stamp on the home so she’d feel comfortable in it. Hopefully her husband wouldn’t have any objections.

  The carriage came to a halt and the door opened. Trumbull exited and stepped aside. The footman swung the stairs in place and offered Amelia a hand down. She descended and looked about.

  “Like what you see of Trumbull Hall?” he asked.

  “Yes. It’s quite beautiful.”

  She saw several servants lined up and went toward them as Trumbull followed. He introduced her to the butler and housekeeper and allowed them to name the rest of the staff. Something told her he had little idea who served him beyond a select few.

  As they went inside, he told the housekeeper they were tired from their journey.

  “I’ll see hot water brought to both your chambers, and food, my lord.”

  “The food first. We’ll have our meal in the small dining room. Not too much. I’m still full from the wedding breakfast. Then we can bathe,” he instructed. “Have Lady Trumbull’s maid unpack her trunk. Our baths should await us by the time we finish eating.”

  Amelia accompanied him to a room and allowed him to seat her. She removed her bonnet and
gloves and sat them in the chair to her right. Trumbull sat at the head of the table, which was to her left. She would have preferred being escorted to her chamber first to wash up but she’d decided to try and please him in small ways. Questioning his orders in front of the servants wouldn’t be a good way to start their relationship.

  Glancing about the room, she saw the furniture was of good quality and the carpet thick. An oil painting of a lake hung over the sideboard.

  He noticed her gazing in that direction and said, “That’s on Trumbull land. Supposed to have good fishing.”

  “Have you never fished in your own lake before?” she asked, incredulous.

  “No. As a boy, I lived at Durbury, the seat of the Duke of Durham. It’s actually the next estate over, to the east. I fished there. Once I began university, I moved to Trumbull Hall. I don’t care much for fishing. Or country life. I prefer the city.”

  “But we will spend part of our year at Trumbull Hall, won’t we?”

  Two footmen arrived and placed bowls of soup in front of them. Two more followed with plates that contained roast beef, slices of bread, and fruit. Conversation ceased as her husband dug into his food. Amelia picked at hers, nervous about the night to come. A footman refilled Trumbull’s wine glass several times and she wondered if he would be able to stay awake after drinking so much. The one glass she’d consumed already made her sleepy.

  He pushed his chair back and a footman came and did the same for her.

  “Your trunk should have been taken upstairs by now. Let me show you to your chamber.”

  Leading her up the stairs, he took her down a long corridor and stopped at a door.

  “This is your bedchamber.”

  “Where is yours?”

  He opened the door and she followed him inside, where Mary, her lady’s maid, leaped to her feet. Pointing, he said, “You have a dressing room through that door. Your bath should await you by now.”

  “It’s ready, my lord,” Mary informed them.

  “My dressing room is adjacent to yours and my bedchamber beyond it. I’ll leave you to your bath.”

  Trumbull left the room without further word. Amelia supposed she was to bathe and dress for her wedding night.