Percival took her elbow and led her outside where a coach was waiting.
* * *
Percival left Abigail at the inn as he went in search of one of the anvil priests.
When Percival found him, the priest was surprised that he was unaccompanied. “Get your bride. I shall summon my neighbors to act as witnesses.”
Percival could not help showing his surprise. He had expected more ceremony than this. “All right then. I shall get her presently. We are not far away.”
The priest simply nodded disinterestedly and went off to find his witnesses. Percival got back in the coach and went to collect Abigail.
“What? Now? I need to get dressed.” Abigail almost closed the door in Percival’s face.
He reached out a hand to prevent her. “The priest is waiting. You look lovely as you are. Come, let us go.”
Abigail hesitated, looking down at her attire. She was wearing a stiff silk woven gown with bold floral design with narrow three-quarter sleeves hemmed with white ruffles. She wore a pink Spencer over it, to shield her from the cold.
Percival himself was far more elaborately dressed in a corbeau-colored, striped and pink spotted velvet coat and breeches, and white satin waistcoat, richly embroidered in silver spangles, stones and colored silks, pink satin and net-work border, lined with pink satin; very elegant and rich. This was his wedding day and he wanted to look his best.
He held out his arm to her. “Shall we?”
* * *
Abigail had very rarely felt this level of fear and nervousness in her life. Even finding herself locked in a dark and dreary gaol cell had not elicited this level of panic.
I am about to wed a duke!
The anvil priest that was to conduct their ceremony did not seem at all fazed by the caliber of nobility he had before him, so Abigail decided to take a leaf out of his book and do the same. For witnesses, the priest had brought with him a wedded couple, who smiled gently at them both but did not otherwise say much.
Robert Elliot turned to face them, Bible in his hand. “State for me your names, please.”
“Abigail Thorne.”
“Percival Montagu.”
Abigail glanced at Percival, surprised that he did not use his title.
“Very good. Now you will stand up and declare that you are both single and with no attachments.”
Abigail’s heart stopped, mind flashing to Lady Rosaline.
Is Percival single, with no attachments?
She wasn’t sure. However, she was reassured by his immediate reply in the affirmative.
“I am single, too.”
Robert Elliot nodded. “Did you come here of your own free will and accord?”
They spoke at the same time. “Yes.”
Upon receiving the affirmative answer Robert Elliot commenced filling in the printed form of the certificate.
He turned to Percival. “Do you take this woman to be your lawful wedded wife, forsaking all others, kept to her as long as you both shall live?”
Percival nodded, “I do.”
The priest turned to Abigail, asking her the same question.
Her voice shook but she got the words out. “I do.”
Abigail produced the ring Percival had handed her on the way over. She gave it back to him and he in turn handed it to the priest, who then returned it to Percival, “Put it on the fourth finger of the woman’s left hand and repeat these words,” he ordered Percival, “with this ring I thee wed, with my body I thee worship, with all my worldly goods I thee endow in the name of the Father, Son and Holy Ghost, Amen.”
Percival took Abigail’s right hand with his own.
“What God joins together let no man put asunder.”
“Forasmuch as this man and this woman have consented to go together by giving and receiving a ring, I, therefore, declare them to be man and wife before God and these witnesses in the name of the Father, Son and Holy Ghost, Amen.” The priest made the sign of the cross as he said the words, and they were married.
* * *
Percival felt a strange bubble of happiness suffuse his chest at the thought of having Abigail for a wife. It was with a curious sense of completion that he ushered her back into their room at the inn.
She stepped in, her eyes on the bed, seemingly frozen.
“Abigail?”
She took a deep shuddering breath before lifting her eyes to meet his.
“I…am fine.”
“Are you sure?”
She nodded, as well as shrugged, so Percival did not know what to think.
Her eyes were back on the bed. “I…am a little nervous.”
Percival followed her line of sight, almost snorting with amusement when he saw what she was staring at.
“Well, we have yet to have our wedding breakfast. I am sure the innkeeper would rustle up something suitable for us. Would you care to join me?”
She could not quite hide her relief as she nodded.
* * *
It probably wasn’t the inn keeper’s first time, conjuring a wedding breakfast for newlyweds, but Abigail still felt slightly embarrassed to look him in the eye. She could not help but think that he knew what they would be doing before the night was done and it was mortifying.
“After we eat, I thought maybe we should make our way back to London.”
Abigail looked at Percival in disbelief. “What? Now? What about…?”
Percival gave her a gentle smile. “I do not expect that you want to lose your virginity at a public inn.”
Abigail’s cheeks warmed and she looked around frantically to see if anyone had heard him. “Percival!” she hissed, torn between annoyance and disbelief when he just laughed.
“Trust that these people have heard worse even if they did overhear me. And I am right, am I not?”
Abigail did not want to concede that, yes, Percival had in fact read her like an open book, in all capital letters. She didn’t want to experience the joys of the marital bed for the first time in a thin-walled inn where she would have to face the other guests come morning, knowing that they were well aware of what the newlyweds had been up to all night.
It was silly, she knew that, but she could not shake this unexpected bout of shyness that had overcome her. She felt curiously grateful to Percival for perceiving her discomfort and catering to her needs.
“Yes, let’s go home. I expect Tommy will be missing me and I expect your bed is a lot more comfortable than the one here.”
Percival merely smiled at her. “I shall have the tiger retrieve our bags, then. Would you like to freshen up before we go?”
Abigail nodded. “Yes, but first, let us finish this meal that the inn keeper was nice enough to prepare for us.”
* * *
Despite the bumpy journey, Abigail slept for most of the way. Percival found that he was unable to do so as his mind was inundated with different scenarios that might occur.
The Earl could very well bribe the magistrate in order to find Abigail guilty, or worse, he could believe the Earl and his daughter’s version of events and find Abigail guilty anyway. Her new status as Duchess could only help so far.
It was unlikely that they would hang her now, even if they found her guilty, especially if she pleaded the belly. She could still be transported, however, which would not bode well for them. He had no problem immigrating to the New World if that was what it took but he had responsibilities in England that he could not simply discard.
He only hoped that whatever influence the Earl had on the legal system, Reggie Sinclair had an equal and opposite pull. That was another challenge, keeping the existence of Abigail’s father a secret from her.
It was unfair.
What child would not love to be reunited with their parent, given the chance? Nevertheless, it was not his secret to tell and so he would keep his counsel.
He was just afraid that when the secret did come out, it might ruin their relationship forever.
Chapter 29
Th
e Life of a Duchess
On arrival at Northcott House, Abigail went directly to check on Tommy. She found him in the kitchens talking a mile a minute to Forbes, who had a very indulgent smile on his face. Abigail hid her own smile, simply letting Tommy know she was back.
“Tis good to see ye, Mistress Thorne. Mr. Forbes gave me some honey to drizzle on my cake!” Tommy held up the spoon for Abigail to see and she smiled at his excitement.
“Well, far be it for me to tear you away from your cake. I shall see you later.” She hesitated, wondering if she should tell him now that they would no longer share a room.
Before she could say another word, however, Mr. Forbes had jumped in.
“We took the liberty of moving Master Tommy to the nursery, where he will be more comfortable.”
“O-oh, that’s…” Abigail didn’t know if that was a good thing. She wanted to demand to inspect the nursery but also did not want to insult the man who had so clearly been taking care of her charge.
He seemed to discern her discomfiture. “I do assure you it is very comfortable and the young master is very pleased with his new accommodations.”
Abigail nodded jerkily, tried to smile at Mr. Forbes, and then turned to leave. She realized she was quite exhausted, what with all the worry of the past week, travel, and getting married. She needed to sit down for a minute, perhaps have a nice relaxing bath. She hesitated, and then turned back to Mr. Forbes.
“May I have some water to bathe?”
“Coming right up, Your Grace,” he said without missing a beat. Abigail nodded, quickly turning away to hide her blush and tripped triumphantly out of the kitchen.
My first request as Duchess went very well if I do say so myself.
* * *
Abigail felt as though she had been wanting this for so long, yet she was not certain she would ever be ready. She had let her hair down, letting it cascade in dark waves down her back, a natural blush on her cheeks. She was clad in a chemise, simple but sheer enough to leave little to the imagination.
Percival had done all he could to make the experience comfortable for her. He had urged her to enjoy her bath in her own room, candles lit all around the room. Her clothes were still here and so it was the sensible thing to do.
He had assured her they could wait if she wanted, although they both knew that was a lie. She would need to get enceinte as fast as possible, preferably before the trial. It was her first time lying with any man, but she had wanted this—had wanted him, since the moment they met.
Ah, the good old days…she thought with sardonic affection.
She got to her feet and opened the door. It was time to seek Percival out. She was unsurprised to find him awaiting her in the hallway.
* * *
They held hands as they walked down the corridor from her room to his.
It was folly, she thought, to be inflamed by so simple a thing. It was the most chaste of touches she had shared with Percival in their short acquaintance, and yet the sensation of hard, calloused skin against her own soft, smooth hand, set a warmth curling deep in her belly.
She allowed herself to be led until they came to the ornate door of Percival’s chambers. Percival paused in his steps before it and turned, pulling Abigail close until his next words fell directly into her ear.
“Speak now, fair Abigail, if your desires have changed,” he said, “for I do not believe myself capable of restraint once we have crossed the threshold.”
A sigh passed Abigail’s lips.
“I fear, Your Grace, that there is no hope of escaping me now,” she said, as Percival’s hand on her waist tightened. “I have made my choice.”
Percival caught her lips in a brief, fierce kiss that left her breathless and wanting before he pushed open the door and guided them inside.
Abigail lay down on the bed while Percival took his jacket off and untied his cravat.
He smiled at her, his dark eyes twinkling, reflecting the candlelight. His wavy black, slightly mussed locks softened his features.
He asked her one last time. “Are you sure?”
Abigail nodded and he started to unbutton his shirt. She held her breath in anticipation, for even though they had lain together that fateful night, she had not seen his body in all its glory.
Percival peeled his shirt away, his muscled torso slowly revealed, bringing to mind a Greek sculpture. She had not known that such perfection was possible.
He sat down next to Abigail on the bed making her very nervous. “Should I…could I touch you?” she asked unsure where to start.
Percival laughed.
The corners of his eyes crinkled, warming the inky darkness of his gaze with affection and Abigail felt as if her heart would soar.
He shuffled forward looming over Abigail.
His hands tugged firmly on her slim waist and Abigail went to him willingly, allowing Percival to manhandle her in whichever way he desired. Her heart thrummed at his proximity.
Until now, they had only stolen a few heated kisses. She had heard stories from Claudette, some good and some horrifying. Claudette told her not to expect much, that for many men, the act was all about their pleasure and women were to endure it. Abigail loved Percival and wanted to please him, and she knew he felt the same about her.
His breath was hot against Abigail’s lips and set her cheeks aflame once more.
“How polite of you to ask, but no permission is needed. Whatever you wish tonight, I am all yours. You are remarkable, Abigail. I look forward to uncovering many more of your marvels during our long and happy marriage.”
“Then I shall do my best not to disappoint, Your Grace,” Abigail breathed, clutching at the unyielding hardness of Percival’s bare chest. She tilted her head aside to grant access to her neck and her breath hitched at the first brush of ticklish hair against the soft skin. Percival hummed as he nosed at her jaw, tracing the gentle slope behind her ear and brushing the sensitive skin there.
Abigail sighed. “Your Grace…”
“My name is Percival.”
The words were formed around a low growl that ignited the flame already simmering in Abigail’s belly. A hushed whimper escaped her when a strong hand cupped her jaw and tilted her face to meet his.
His eyes were dark with lust. “I shall hear it pass your fair lips, lady of mine, or not at all.”
“Percival.” Abigail mouthed obediently. Her body felt alight with heat and sensation and she trembled with the stirrings of desire. Percival groaned, long and low, and caught her lips in a searing kiss.
It burned as if her lips were caught in naked flame. She yielded to Percival’s expertise and met the wet heat of his tongue with the soft pliancy of her own.
The bristles of hair along Percival’s jaw were rough against her cheek and neck, but she welcomed this new burn with the rest. There was a hardness against her hip where she was caught up against his firm body, and a broken sound was torn from her when it brushed against her.
“You are an intoxicating creature, Abigail,” Percival said huskily, breaking away to mouth at her ear. “I would have you now if you would allow it.”
“You need only command it of me,” Abigail said. She whimpered when Percival nipped the skin of her neck.
“Percival.”
The kiss left Abigail wanting more. She ran her fingers through the downy hair on his chest, over his tight abs, down to the waist of his breeches.
She stopped, unsure of whether she should help him undress further. Of course, he noticed her hesitation and sought to make things simpler for her.
He pulled her back onto the pillows with him, kissing her deeply this time. She could smell the wood smoke and earthy cologne on him.
His hands moved down her back and hips and reflexively, she pressed into him. She thought she could feel him harden beneath her touch. Percival slid the hem of her gown up to her thighs. “May I?” he asked before proceeding further.
“Yes, I’m ready,” despite her certainty of heart, she
could not help the tremor in her voice.
“It’s all right, my love. We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do.”
“It’s not that. I just do not want to disappoint you. You know I’ve never—”
Secret Confessions 0f The Enticing Duchess (Steamy Historical Regency) Page 25