by Sahara Kelly
Not one given to frequent all-male gatherings, he found himself pleasantly surprised, and vowed to repeat the experience when he returned to London.
Which thought brought him upright in a sharp tightening of his spine.
“What?” Miles almost jumped.
“London. The rumours. What are you all doing here? You could be ruined…” He waved his glass around at all of them. Thankfully, it was empty.
Matthew snorted. “Nonsense, all of it. You can’t imagine that we paid any attention whatsoever to it? Besides, Lady Beauville is due to deliver any moment and the betting book at White’s is filling up with wagers on exactly who the babe will take after.” His lips curved wryly. “The hint of a financial scandal slips very far down the scale of interest when compared to that.”
“Well, setting all that aside,” commented Miles, “what are you going to do about those rumours? And how can we help?”
For a moment, the Duke was speechless. He’d never had anyone offer assistance so casually. He found himself most affected by Miles’s words and the eager expressions on the faces of Matthew and Mowbray.
“I’m at a bit of a loss,” he finally answered. “Both in finding a way to thank you for your generous offer, and also to outline my plan to deal with this mess.” He ran a hand through his hair. “Mostly because I don’t have one.”
“Well, we shall have to take care of that then,” said Matthew. “I would suggest an interview with your financial people, of course. And then perhaps a review of what the situation is in the north. Get some groundwork done. Then turn your attention to who might profit or benefit from throwing dirt on the Maidenbrooke name.”
The three men stared at Matthew with varying expressions of surprise.
“What?” asked Matthew. “I do have a brain, you know, even though I’m the youngest here.”
Miles chuckled. “You astound us all, my lad. Excellent advice, and yes, we all know you’ve a sharp mind behind that pretty face of yours.”
The Duke leapt in, knowing the conversation could easily degenerate into good-natured insults if he didn’t get a word in. “Yes, I agree, Matthew. It is excellent advice and pretty much what I sort of planned to do initially.” He frowned. “Sad thing is, I can’t think of anyone who would have anything to gain by bringing me low. And when I cast my mind over what I know of my holdings, it didn’t reveal anything controversial at all.”
“Plus the Maidenbrooke name isn’t just some small matter, your Grace,” added Mowbray. “There are generations attached to it, much power, and a lot of people depending on it for their living. I can see no positive result to such negativity.”
“Me neither,” sighed Colly.
A loud knock was followed by the door opening and several female heads peering around it.
“I knew it.” Lady Rose Linfield tsked. “Drinking. And before noon.”
“Just sharing a companionable interlude with our fellows, my dear,” said Miles to his wife. “The sort of thing gentlemen do from time to time.”
“When they’re trying to avoid their assigned chores,” said Lydia dryly. “But your time is up, I’m afraid.” She pushed the door fully open.
“I have a list.” Ivy’s eyes met the Duke’s, and the smile she sent him warmed him to his toes. “We need chairs moved, the dining room opened up and several pieces of furniture shifted around. There is also the matter of the old china bureau. The key isn’t working properly and one of the doors is stuck shut.”
“In other words, you need our manly strengths?” Mowbray asked politely, his voice smooth as butter.
Lydia made a scoffing noise.
Rose rolled her eyes. “Come on. Put the drinks down. It’s time to get to work.”
Her husband sighed and stood. “Yes, dear.” Then he turned to the Duke. “Remember this moment, your Grace. A harbinger of things to come.”
Colly, his eyes still on Ivy, merely nodded. But inside his head was a little whisper… “I do hope so.”
*~~*~~*
Just before six o’clock, everyone in the castle gathered in what was once a Great Hall. Over the years it had become a ballroom, but it still retained a mediaeval feel; high curved ceilings and ancient stonework emphasising the history of the place and more modern touches of glass windows, chandeliers massed with candles, and elegant parquet flooring reminding those present that it was now a modern ballroom.
For this occasion, chairs had been grouped on each side, facing the musician’s dais, which now held a bible stand and two large vases of flowers.
In fact there were flowers everywhere, courtesy of the gardener and his lads, who had a bit of a contest going with cook and her staff. Each was determined to garner more compliments than the other on this auspicious day.
A boot boy and his scullery maid counterpart had been assigned to eavesdrop as best they could on the guests attending the celebration, counting the number of compliments by marking dots on small pieces of paper.
They had sworn to be honest, under pain of severe repercussions. The cook and the gardener were creative when it came to threats, so as the elegant ladies and gentlemen took their seats, two small bodies crept stealthily around the other pots of plants and flowers, listening to their conversations.
There were three empty seats in the front row; they would be occupied by Judith, Lady Withersby, Rose, Lady Linfield and Miss Lydia Davenport. All three ladies would be escorting their best friend Ivy as she walked up the ballroom aisle to the dais.
Miles Linfield had accepted groomsman duties, and Miss Prudence Hartsmere walked her uncle up to the front, then took a seat next to Lady Siddington and Lady Sydenham, both of whom were grinning from ear to ear.
Although Ivy had expected her grandmother to walk with her to the makeshift altar, she’d accepted the suggestion that if Lord Sydenham would do the honours, her grandmama could relax and enjoy every minute, something she declared herself eager to do. So Matthew Davenport had escorted the elderly lady to the large chair in the front row, seating her with all the courtesy and charm at his command.
He earned nods of approval from Mrs Ashrayn and Lady Sydenham and took his seat after winking at Prudence, who shot him a tiny wave of her hand and an approving grin. The entire Siddington household was present, of course, as were many of the estate residents, who had known Ivy as a child and were thrilled to be able to celebrate her marriage. And to a Duke, too. Just fancy that...
Ivy was unaware of all this, of course, since she was busily trying to explain to her entourage why this whole thing was a big mistake.
“Do shut up, dearest,” said Lydia patiently. “You are marrying the Duke for the best of reasons. He needs your help, you are already quite fond of him and it’ll be the match of the Season.”
“Not to mention one of the best weddings of the Season too,” added Rose. “So much more fun than the stuffy ones in St. George’s chapel.”
“You will be fine, love,” Judith hugged her. “Nerves are normal. You’re surrounded by friends and family. You’re in your own home. And let’s face it, you are marrying one of the biggest catches of the Season. Several seasons, actually.”
“Yes, but…”
The strains of music began to echo around them, and the girls lined up in front of Ivy.
“It’s time,” said Rose quietly. “Just breathe.”
Easier said than done. She took Sir Laurence’s arm, grateful for his quiet, smiling support.
Somehow she managed to put one foot in front of the other and with her gaze fixed on Colly, Ivy made it to the end of the aisle. When she got there, she didn’t know what to do.
“Breathe,” he whispered as her friends returned to their seats and Sir Laurence dropped a gentle kiss on her knuckles before joining Lady Maud.
“I wish people would stop telling me that,” she murmured.
Colly held out his hand and she put hers into it, finding it warm and comforting. He turned them both to face the Bishop, an august gentleman of many years, but
with a reassuring sparkle lurking in his eye.
The ceremony moved forward apace, the words familiar, the emotions clearly on display, as demonstrated by more than a few sniffles.
And before she realised it, Ivy Siddington had become Her Grace the Duchess of Maidenbrooke.
Her “I do” was steady, confident. All the things she wasn’t at that moment. Since his sounded the same, she spared a moment to wonder if he too was suffering from well-concealed apprehension.
But when it came to kissing the bride, he betrayed no apprehension whatsoever, simply turning toward her, putting his hands either side of her face and tilting it so that he could bend down and touch her lips with his.
Tenderly, he held the two of them thus for a moment or two, then moved back, taking her hand and putting it through his arm.
He turned them both, and the room burst into cheers and applause.
The new Duchess blinked.
Oh God. I’ve done it now.
Chapter Twelve
Siddington Castle rang with the sound of laughter and music long after the Duke had managed to pull Ivy away from the party.
“I hate to ask you to make your farewells, Ivy,” he’d apologised. “But we have to leave as early as we can in the morning. Time is of the essence now.”
She’d understood, for which he was very grateful.
Even so, it had been almost an hour before he could finally close the door behind them, and relish the chance to be alone with his bride at last.
She looked around. “I never imagined myself in this room. It seems very odd, if you must know. All my things are still in my room.”
“True.” He nodded and began to shrug out of his jacket.
“Um…” she gulped. “What are you doing?”
He smiled gently at her. “I’m getting ready for bed, Ivy. This is our bedchamber now and we’ll share it tonight.”
Her eyes widened. “Oh. Well. Yes, I suppose we should.”
Unfastening his waistcoat, he glanced up. “I’m aware of the custom of separate suites, and in fact Hartsmere House has such an arrangement.” He cleared his throat. “We will talk about that when we get to London. There’s no hurry, my dear. We have a lifetime ahead of us to sort it all out.”
“I know.” Her face was pale and she looked down at her hand where a plain gold band adorned her third finger, thoughtfully provided by Woodleigh, Colly’s butler. He had included it with the other materials forwarded to Siddington Castle for the wedding.
Sensing her nerves, Colly took pity on her and moved behind a large screen to finish undressing. He seldom slept in a nightshirt, but this was an unusual occasion. “I believe your maid did bring in some of your night things,” he commented, keeping his tone casual.
“Yes, I see,” she answered.
“Once I’m done, you can use the screen.”
“All right.”
He emerged, his nightshirt flapping around his bare calves. Her eyes flew to his feet and then back up to his face.
“Ivy.” He walked to her. “We’re husband and wife now. We have what I’d like to think is a growing attraction between us. Am I right?” He cupped her cheeks in his hands.
She nodded, her gaze fixed on his face.
“But we’ve wed in a dreadful hurry, and for reasons other than our feelings or emotions.”
“Yes,” she whispered.
“Let me be perfectly clear—I desire you. As a husband should desire his wife. But even though tonight is our wedding night, I cannot bring myself to rip those clothes off you and drag you naked into our bed.”
She swallowed. “You can’t?”
“No,” he sighed. “That would be unthinkingly cruel and selfish of me. We have to rise before dawn, we have a solid few hours in a coach before us and Lord knows what awaits at Hartsmere House.” He closed his eyes for a moment and leaned down, resting his forehead against hers. “If I start making love to you, I won’t be able to stop. You will probably be uncomfortable. I wouldn’t have you hurting because of my greediness.”
“Ah,” she whispered. “But when we get to London…”
The soft words seemed to contain a hopeful note. Or perhaps that was his desire leaking out through his ears. But he knew he was doing the right thing, difficult though it was.
“When we get to London…” He opened his eyes and kissed her gently. “When we get to London, you’ll become my Duchess in all the ways that count.”
“Promise?”
“Word of honour.”
She sighed then, a huge breath that probably mingled relief and what he hoped was anticipation. “Very well. If you will give me a hand with my laces, I’ll get undressed too.”
She turned her back, and Colly fought to keep his hands from trembling as he carefully unfastened her gown.
“You looked very lovely today, my sweet.” He took a chance and dropped a light kiss between her shoulder blades, revealed as he peeled away her bodice.
She laughed. “You’re being kind.”
“I’m being honest. I’ve always thought you stood out from the crowd, Ivy. There’s something about you that draws the eye. Your smile, perhaps? Your skin, so silky…I don’t know.”
She kept her back to him. “You’re seducing me, your Grace.”
“It’s only the beginning, your Grace.”
She clutched at the front of her gown as she turned. “Well, pardon my honesty, but I certainly wish it was tomorrow night, so you could continue.”
He rolled his eyes, aware of the uncomfortably hard length beneath his nightshirt. “As do I, wife. As do I.”
She scurried behind the screen and Colly turned the bed down, climbing in and moving to the far side.
Ivy wasted no time in slipping on her nightgown, then emerged, a vision of pale blue cotton and ruffles. She walked around the room, snuffing the candles. “What time shall we rise, do you think?”
“I asked your maid to wake us just before six. If we can be on the way by half-past, we might be lucky enough to make London well before lunch.” He pushed the pillows around beneath his head as she extinguished the last light, and opened the curtains to allow a little moonlight in.
“And then?” She slipped into her side of the bed, pulling the covers up, and turning to look at him.
“And then I hope to find messages awaiting me. I have to talk to several people, not only about these rumours, but about the change in my situation.”
“What…oh, you mean me.”
“I do,” he chuckled. “It’s not every day a man acquires a wife, you know.”
“True,” she answered. “Will it be a big nuisance for you?”
“Yes. Utterly dreadful.”
“Don’t jest,” she leaned over and punched his shoulder. “I meant it.”
“You should know better, Ivy. I don’t do things that I do not wish to do. I wished to marry you. There are various matters that will need to be attended to now that I have a Duchess, but seeing as I won’t be actually doing any of them, I shall not concern myself with them and neither should you.”
She sighed. “I don’t feel like a duchess.”
“Most of the time I don’t feel like a duke.” He turned to her, putting an arm around her and drawing their bodies together like spoons. “Just wait until you’ve spent an entire day being addressed as your Grace. You’ll feel like a duchess then, I can assure you.”
Snuggling naturally into his body, he felt her chuckle. “You’re probably right.” She yawned. “You’re warm.”
He bit his lip. “Yes.”
“It’s nice,” she mumbled, tucking herself even closer.
Suppressing a groan of frustration, Colly resigned himself to a night of extreme discomfort and did his best to avoid stabbing her bottom with the evidence of his desire for his wife.
His wife.
Never had he imagined feeling so thrilled at those words. The other times he’d been close to this point, it had been an accepted matter, an appropriate match; somethin
g unexceptional.
This was so far from that…he lusted for her body, adored her smile, her laughter brought warmth to his heart and just holding her like this as she relaxed into sleep—well, it wasn’t what he’d ever expected or experienced.
It was…so much better. Even though he had to forgo the delights of lovemaking for now. But he was a man grown, and thus able to control his natural urges for another twenty-four hours.
He stifled a groan as he shifted a little against her.
He hoped he’d survive the night, because he had no intention of putting off anything in the way of lovemaking any longer than one single day.
Which might well be the longest day of his life.
*~~*~~*
A strange sound woke Ivy very early in the morning. A sort of buzzing hum somewhere off to her left.
She remained still for a few moments, letting her mind awaken, remembering…
Yes, this definitely wasn’t her bed. And yes, that was indeed the soft sounds of a gentle snore coming from the man sleeping beside her.
Her husband.
She could feel the warmth radiating from him and turned gently toward it, her feet chilly, since most of the bedclothes had ended up covering Colly. Tucking her toes beneath the quilt, she touched his leg, finding it toasty and comforting.
Obviously, he wasn’t quite prepared for the job of being a toe warmer as well as a husband. He jumped, yelped a little and blinked as he rubbed his eyes and glared at her.
“God, woman. Your feet are like ice.”
“You stole all the covers. What do you expect?”
She frowned at him, ignoring the rather appealing picture he presented with his hair ruffled from sleep and stubble on his chin.
His lips twitched. “Good morning, madam wife.”
“Good morning to you, my lord husband.” She bit back a chuckle.
Then gasped as he reached for her and had her on her back beneath him in less than a breath. “I like waking up with a wife beside me. Even if her feet are colder than the Arctic Ocean.” He cuddled her, then raised himself above her.