When she stumbled again, he lifted her up, his arms beneath her bottom. He held her body against his, and she caught her breath at the sensation of his hard flesh against her own yielding skin. Though he did nothing but hold her up, she saw the question in his eyes. He wanted her, and although he had a husband’s claim to her innocence, he would give her the choice.
This time, she chose not to be afraid.
When he lowered her against his heated length, she found herself opening against him. She wrapped her legs around his waist, while he supported her bottom.
In silent answer, she lowered her mouth to his in a kiss. He kissed her hard, his tongue threading with hers. She shuddered as his body rubbed against her, and Jonathan took her back to the bed, letting her down.
He undressed, and she averted her gaze, not yet ready to see him. The bed lowered with his weight, and his wide hands caressed her as he took off the undergarments, baring her to his touch.
“Don’t be afraid of me,” he murmured against her shoulder.
Victoria took a breath, trying to slow the harsh beating of her heart. She faced the wall, shocked when he guided her beneath the covers and moved behind her. His hard shaft was nestled against her bottom, and his hands came around to stroke her breasts.
“I enjoyed dancing with you.”
“I was terrible.” But even so, she had enjoyed the moment with him. She turned to her side to face him, and the complete intimacy of being naked started to evoke her fears again.
He was kissing her, his hands moving over her body as if to memorize every inch of her skin. The chill of fear mingled with the flush of desire, and when he bent to her breast, she felt the intrusion of his hands between her legs. Her body reacted instantly, growing slick with the movement of his fingers.
He guided her hand to his swollen erection, and her thoughts scattered apart. He was hard and warm to the touch, his body responding to her tentative stroke. She caressed the length of him, both fascinated and afraid of his size.
“Careful,” he warned. “If you keep touching me like that, I won’t last.” He pushed her hand away and moved atop her. Though his body weight wasn’t too heavy, she felt his chest pressing against her breasts. Below the waist, his shaft nudged between her legs.
“Victoria,” he breathed, and she tensed as he eased against her. She closed her eyes, and though he continued to touch her, her fears began suffocating the desire. The intensity of the feelings took command of her, and she couldn’t say what had caused her to shy away.
His dark eyes held back a maelstrom of emotion, as if he were bent upon possessing her. As if, by joining with her, she would be fused with him, losing herself.
She tightened against him, faltering when she felt his intrusion. Although her body was wet, she felt trapped beneath him. He wasn’t going to let her move, and when she gasped against the pain, he thrust forward.
Instinctively, she tried to push at the weight of him. He withdrew, only to sheathe himself inside her again.
She couldn’t catch her breath, and the sudden rush of regret spilled over her. It was too intimate, too close. With every movement, she felt herself merging with him. Her body was reshaping, accepting his invasion, and when she dared to look at him, she saw the reflection of herself in his eyes.
He’d refused invitations for over a year, becoming a recluse, like herself. And she began to wonder if his avoidance of society had anything to do with her at all… or whether it was born of his own demons.
He’d given her so much, teaching her not to be afraid. With every moment she’d spent with him, he’d given her the courage she needed. She’d become a stronger woman at his side.
And despite his desire to protect her, she wanted to face every last fear, becoming the wife he needed her to be.
She began touching him, running her hands down his spine, meeting his thrusts with a counterpoint of her hips. And when she raised her knees, he shuddered, plunging within her. The rhythm changed, and he palmed her bottom, until he was fully sheathed. She couldn’t move, but he was so hard, she grew breathless at the feeling of him probing her so deep.
He never stopped, and she grew weak at his penetrations, her body trembling as he quickened the tempo. A blissful release slid over her, and she couldn’t stop the tears. They were tears of happiness, but the moment he saw them, he stopped.
“I’m sorry,” he said, withdrawing from her body. “I didn’t mean to be rough with you.” He moved away from her to the edge of the bed, his hands at his sides, his head lowered.
“No, you weren’t.” She tried to reach for him, but he wouldn’t look at her. “You didn’t hurt me, Jonathan.”
Yet, he didn’t seem to hear her. He continued to stare at the wall, and she couldn’t understand what had come between them. He wouldn’t admit what was haunting him now.
Already he’d reached for his fallen clothing, and she could see that he was rigid with self-loathing. Despite her protests, he dressed quietly and left her room, closing the door behind him.
She pulled a pillow against her bare skin, trying to understand him. Before he’d touched her, he’d reassured her that he would never hurt her. Despite her protests to the contrary, he believed that he had.
Victoria cursed herself for daring to cry, but the night had been so wonderful, she hadn’t been able to stop herself. She pulled on a nightgown and curled up beneath the sheet. Something was troubling Jonathan deeply, secrets he’d never confided.
And for the first time, she began to realize that she was not the only one with something to hide.
Chapter Sixteen
JONATHAN REPLACED the stopper on his inkwell. He’d spent most of the night going over his accounts in the hopes that it would somehow distract him from the vicious sexual frustration. He’d made his wife cry without intending to. And though she’d claimed that she was all right, nothing could have extinguished his arousal faster. He never wanted to see her weep, least of all in his bed.
Over and over, he’d tried to think of what he could have done to make it easier on Victoria. He’d thought she was ready for him, but he should have waited. Once he’d been inside her, he’d lost all sense of control.
Just like your father, his conscience mocked. The thought was appalling.
His parents had loved each other once, until his father’s jealousy had turned brutal. He never wanted to even imagine himself in the same way. But his feelings for Victoria were far too uncontrollable, and he hardly knew himself when he touched her.
She hadn’t come downstairs this morning and likely wouldn’t. The guilt nagged at him, and he decided a better tactic would be to enlist help. He’d sent his secretary to buy a suitable gift of apology to Victoria. Then, to his footman, he ordered, “Send an invitation to my aunt Melanie to pay a call upon the duchess this afternoon.”
He started to order his coat and hat, when he spied Victoria standing at the top of the stairs. It was the first time he’d seen her leave her room, and he remained where he was, hoping she would come down.
He could not tell whether she was angry with him, but he could think of nothing to say. I’m sorry wasn’t nearly enough.
“Your Grace,” she called out.
A few of the servants were startled that she had not come down to speak to him, but he suspected the reason why. He waited to see if she might approach, but she only clung to the banister.
“I-I thought we might talk…”
Upon her face, he spied uncertainty, and he didn’t doubt that this conversation would end badly. Better to avoid it until she’d had a chance to forgive him. Quietly, he ordered the footman to make arrangements for his landau. Without being asked, another servant went and fetched his topcoat and hat.
“This evening, perhaps.” Jonathan sent her a light bow and allowed the footman to help him with his coat. By tonight, she would have received his gift and that might mend their differences. “My apologies.”
Lifting his hat in a silent farewell, he walked to th
e front door, even though his carriage could not possibly be ready. For now, he simply wanted to escape the house and the look of sadness on his wife’s face.
After spending her morning hours with Madame Benedict, Victoria had ordered a full wardrobe with gowns for every occasion. She’d been measured from head to toe, and the modiste had showed her an assortment of gloves, bonnets, and stockings. She had even suggested that Victoria should consider ordering more luxurious undergarments from Aphrodite’s Unmentionables.
Though it was hard to hold back her smile, Victoria obeyed, ordering a selection of corsets and chemises in every color. It was good for the crofters’ wives, after all.
Then she’d spent the rest of her time navigating her way through the house. Though outwardly it had appeared to be the same size as the neighboring dwellings, she’d underestimated how much deeper it was. There were endless drawing rooms, a music room, the servants’ quarters, and even a garden outside.
When she reached the drawing room on the second floor, large windows lined the walls. Clouded morning light filtered into the room, and the windowpanes were lined with snow. Victoria went to sit near the window and touched the cool glass. The sight of the crystalline drifts reminded her of the day she and Margaret had slipped outside into her uncle’s garden, throwing snow at each other when they were young girls.
“Victoria, don’t!” her sister protested. “You’re getting my pelisse wet.”
In answer, she scooped another ball of snow into her gloved hands, moving closer to Margaret. “Then you’d better run.”
“If you throw that, I’ll tell Mother!” Her sister squealed and darted away.
Victoria raced after her, her skirts covered to the knees in snow while she took aim at Margaret. A moment later, her sister turned around and plastered her in the face with her own snowball. Neither of them had been able to stop laughing, even when Beatrice caught them, scolding them for such unladylike behavior.
A pang caught at Victoria’s heart, for she missed her sisters dreadfully. There had been a time when she and Margaret had been best friends, allied against Juliette and Amelia. They had spent endless hours together, playing games and talking about their future husbands.
But now, all of that had changed.
Margaret would have reveled in this new life, particularly in the pearl and diamond necklace the duke had sent. Victoria had stared at it in disbelief, not understanding why Jonathan would send her such a gift. Was it an apology? Or was it meant as a wedding gift?
She’d tucked it away, certain that the duke was avoiding her. But he couldn’t do so forever. She could only hope that her plan to reconcile them would work.
A quiet knock sounded at the door, and when Victoria called out her permission to enter, her maid Mary dropped a curtsy. “Your Grace, you have a caller. It is His Grace’s aunt, Lady Rumford.”
Victoria’s stomach twisted with worry. Jonathan hadn’t wanted her to meet any of his relatives, and she wasn’t certain what the lady would think of her. “Send for tea and refreshments,” she ordered. “I will greet her in the blue drawing room.”
Mary took a moment to help her tuck away a few wayward strands of hair, likely bemoaning Victoria’s lack of a suitable wardrobe. But it would take time before Madame Benedict could sew more gowns. Once she was presentable, she went downstairs to greet Lady Rumford.
The plump, dark-haired woman was standing near the window. She was dressed in a high-necked blue jaconet gown with long sleeves and a fluted ruff. She smiled warmly and extended both hands in greeting. “I am Lady Rumford,” she said, squeezing Victoria’s hands and smiling. “But you may call me Aunt Melanie, if you wish.”
“I am Victoria Andr—I mean, Nottoway.”
Melanie let out a sigh. “He told me you lived in Scotland for many years. I was afraid you might not be accustomed to our ways.” Releasing her hands, she added, “What you meant to say was that you are Her Grace, the Duchess of Worthingstone.”
The woman behaved as if Victoria had been brought up in a barn among cattle. Of course she knew the proper form of address. Yet, she suppressed the urge to defend herself, not wanting to offend the woman. “I did not feel the title was necessary among family.”
“It is always best to begin with the title and be more familiar later. Titles do grow complicated, but as the wife of a peer, you must adapt to this.”
She took a seat across from Lady Rumford, and a footman arrived with the refreshments.
“I must say, you are a pretty thing,” Melanie admitted, while Victoria poured her a cup of tea. “His Grace does have good taste, and his mother would have been quite pleased with you, if she were here.” A hint of sadness clung to her words.
“Was Jon—I mean His Grace—close to his mother?”
Lady Rumford nodded. “My sister Catherine was sweet and gentle, always wanting to please others. I still miss her.” Her eyes held back tears, and she reached for a handkerchief.
“I’m sorry,” Victoria murmured. “I can’t imagine how terrible it would be to lose a sister.” Though she wondered what had happened to Jonathan’s mother, she didn’t ask.
Lady Rumford’s mouth tightened. “I shouldn’t have spoken of it. Catherine’s death was a great tragedy, and the scandal still lingers. You must be prepared for it. When you attend dinner parties and balls, there will be talk.”
Victoria didn’t know how to respond to that, for she didn’t feel quite ready to attend social functions. Simply leaving the house to get into a carriage was difficult enough. But her lack of a reply didn’t seem to dishearten Lady Rumford at all.
“I do believe the best way to introduce you as the new duchess would be to host an intimate gathering of the duke’s closest friends and our immediate family. Next week, I think. I can help you with the guest list, and then—”
Next week? Victoria bit her lip to keep from blurting out no. “Lady Rumford, I do appreciate your desire to help me, but really, there’s no need—”
“Oh, fiddle. Of course you’ll need help, and I would be glad to lend my knowledge and assistance.” She poured a cup of tea for both of them, passing one to Victoria.
It was time to be honest with her husband’s aunt. “I have never been presented at court, nor have I ever made my debut in society,” she began. “Until a year ago, my father did not even have a title. I need a little more time to… prepare for such an event.”
Six months at the very least, she thought.
Several expressions passed over Lady Rumford’s face. Surprise, curiosity, and a hint of frustration appeared before she finally veiled her emotions. “Your Grace, I can understand why you might feel awkward and ill-prepared to be the wife of a duke. But all of this can be learned, don’t you see? His Grace has been through the most terrible circumstances during the past year and a half. It’s little wonder he traveled so frequently. But now that you’re here, you can do wonders to soothe his troubles.”
Her attention sharpened at the mention of his “troubles” and “terrible circumstances.” Victoria desperately wanted to ask, but she held her tongue. She took one of the ginger and currant cakes, hoping Lady Rumford would elaborate.
“Since no one knows anything about you, they are all eager to understand why the duke eloped. This secret marriage is terribly romantic, don’t you see? Already the ladies are wondering how you managed to ensnare the man every woman wanted to marry.”
Because I sewed up his leg with pink thread, she thought drily.
“Well?” Lady Rumford prompted. “How did you manage it? Did you”—she lowered her voice into a whisper—“let him compromise you?”
“No!” Victoria gaped at the idea and took another bite of cake to distract herself from the woman’s implications. “I only… saved his life after he was shot.”
A wide smile spread over the matron’s face. “Why, then, you nursed him back to health and he fell in love with you. Isn’t that right?”
“That’s right,” came a male voice from the
doorway. Jonathan removed his hat and entered the parlor, leaning down to kiss his aunt hello. “I see you’ve come to torment my wife.”
“Nonsense, my boy.” Lady Rumford reached up to pat his cheek. “I’m trying to convince Her Grace that she should host a ball or a dinner party here next Friday. We’ll show her off to everyone.”
His smile tightened. “No, I don’t think so.”
Though Victoria knew he’d said it to give her an escape, she didn’t want to hurt the older woman’s feelings. “Perhaps another time, Lady Rumford.”
Disappointment creased the older woman’s face, but she accepted defeat. “Well, if I cannot host a party, then I should like to take your wife out shopping in the morning. We shall spend all of your money, if that is agreeable, Worthingstone.”
Victoria discreetly shook her head, and when his aunt reached out her hand, Jonathan took it. “Not too early, Aunt.” His voice held the hint of sin and Victoria felt her face flood with color.
“Oh, you devil. Such wickedness.” But she laughed as he helped her stand from the chair. To Victoria, she added, “Send word to me when you wish to go, Your Grace. It would be my pleasure.”
Victoria returned to her chair while Jonathan escorted his aunt out. The tea had gone cold, and she had no doubt that the pair of them were talking about her reluctance to host or attend a gathering. But you will, her mind insisted. You must.
She wasn’t about to let this house become her new prison, regardless of her discomfort. Taking a breath, she steeled herself for what lay ahead. When her husband returned, he closed the door to the drawing room behind him. “She means well.”
“I know she does,” Victoria answered. Jonathan moved to stand by the window, staring at the streets below them. For long minutes, he said nothing and only the soft ticking of the wall clock resounded in the silence.
This was her chance to speak with him, and she rose from her seat, walking behind him.
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