The Duke That I Marry

by Cathy Maxwell

  Waiting for her to warm up to him, and, yes, forgive him for last night, would be hard, but he was determined.

  Willa glanced at the door, but she didn’t move in that direction. Instead, she gave him her back. Her hands gathered the shirt hem and she took it off, revealing one of the loveliest backsides Matt had ever laid his eyes on.

  Rodney agreed.

  This was going to be a trial.

  Crossing her arms so that she could cover her breasts and femininity, Willa hunched over protectively and stepped into the tub. She slowly sat down. She had to give up guarding her preciousness to move her hair out of the way. However, the tub was made for someone his size. The water was deep on her. She leaned forward, guarding herself, until a side glance enlightened her on the difficulty he was having with his little friend. She’d been so concerned, she hadn’t noticed.

  Now a sly look crossed her face.

  “Willa, what are you thinking?”

  “That this may be harder for you than it is for me.” She lifted her arm away from her breasts. Rodney went full-out rigid. “Harder” had been the right word. He would never relax at this pace, and she smiled at Matt’s struggle for control.

  But she hadn’t run.

  Matt knelt beside the tub, feeling hoisted by his own rash claims. However, he was determined to be gentle and present. He wanted Willa’s trust.

  He picked up a cloth and dunked it in the water.

  Willa caught his hand. “I can bathe myself.”

  With his other hand, he offered her the soap. She released her hold and took the scented cake, indicating with her gaze that he could remove his hand from her bathwater. He did, but he didn’t move away from the tub.

  She began lathering the soap on the cloth. “You don’t need to stay right here.”

  “That is all right,” he said, pretending he wasn’t watching her every movement. “I like the floor.”

  Her nose twitched her suspicions. “It is awkward having you here,” she murmured, washing her arms.

  “That is a perception. Thousands of men and their wives share a room. It is all part of the intimacy of marriage.”

  Her lip curled. “What are you trying to do, Matt?”

  “Be a good husband.”

  For a long moment she considered him and then she gathered her hair draped over the edge of the tub as if it annoyed her. “Please see if there is ribbon for my hair in a box on the washstand.”

  He was happy to do so, especially since Rodney had calmed down a bit. But he had to be careful. The little man was always ready to rise.

  She pleased Matt when she said, “Would you help me tie my hair up?”

  “A pleasure.” He lifted the weight of it and wrapped it in a knot the way he used to watch his mother tie hers back. The ribbon would not hold it for long. “You have a good head of hair.”

  “I have too much hair.”

  “Cut it.” He resumed his watch by the tub. He liked the view. The soap she was using smelled of lavender.

  She moved as if less self-conscious around him.

  Wiping the back of her neck with the cloth, she said, “I’m afraid to do so. I mean, some women, like your sisters, have shortened their hair, but—” She shrugged. “My father would never allow it.” She drew the cloth down and looked to him. “Would you?”

  Matt laughed. “I know better than to answer that question. A wise man doesn’t tell a woman how to dress. Cut your hair, braid it, do what pleases you.”

  “But do you like it long?” She paused a beat and then said, “Last night, you seemed to enjoy taking it down.”

  Matt dared to lean an arm on her tub. She did not chase him away. “I’m more interested in you, Willa, not your hair.”

  She tilted her head in that manner she had whenever he seemed to say something that challenged what she believed.

  He waited, hoping she would give him a little more insight into her thinking. Instead, she ran the cloth over her legs.

  Matt would dearly love to take the cloth away from her. To have his hand be the one that spread lathered soap over her knees and around her calves.

  Rodney stirred. And Willa noticed. She eyed him again with disfavor. “Does it always do that?”

  “Apparently around you.” And then, to take her attention off his discomfort, he reached in the tub and splashed water.

  She gave a little yip as if his action was unexpected, and yet not unappreciated.

  Slowly, with great patience, she seemed to be forgiving him.

  Here was the price he had to pay for his loss of control. He had to make himself wait, even though he had a strong desire to lift her out of the tub, dripping wet, and make love to her right there on the floor.

  But he held back . . . because she was worth it.

  The realization that he might have married above himself—and he was not referring to her money—had started to come upon him watching her yesterday among the wedding guests. She’d moved with grace. He’d watched her listening to conversations, taking in Kate’s boldness or someone else’s gossipy or crass behavior. She’d kept her thoughts to herself, but she had been thinking. She was no one’s fool. Including his.

  “I’m finished with my bath,” she said.

  “All right.” He picked up a towel, prepared to dry her off.

  Her response was to snatch it out of his hand and wave him away.

  He good-naturedly backed off. “Perhaps next time,” he murmured.

  “Perhaps.”

  Dear God, there was hope.

  And he could ruin everything if he did as he wished and stared at her as she dried the water from her skin. Instead, he climbed into the tub.

  The water was cool. Good. Cold as ice would have been better.

  Willa went to the wardrobe and found a dressing gown on a hook. She put it on, sending a smile in his direction as if she had outwitted him. She began brushing her hair.

  He didn’t mind that she’d put on clothes. It was enough to know that she was naked under that scrap of material.

  Naked and beautifully formed. He was a lucky man. He was also hard as a rock.

  Matt picked up the bucket the servants had brought with the bath, filled it, and poured it over his head. His thoughts were not pure ones.

  Especially once he caught her covertly eyeballing him. It made him want to give her a true show . . . that, and he didn’t wish to climb out of the tub with what seemed to be, around her, a never-ending erection.

  He also realized he didn’t wish to smell like a lavender field. “There is a bar of soap by the washbasin. Would you hand it to me? It is in the shaving kit.”

  A simple request. She moved to do his bidding, picking up the soap and smelling it. “What is this fragrance? I always associate it with you. Sandalwood and what else?”

  He held out his hand. “I don’t know. It is something Alice and her husband blend for me. One of the many luxuries of knowing a chemist. It is their annual present to me. They have a scent for everyone in the family. They’ll create one for you as well.”

  She placed the soap in his hand but didn’t withdraw to the chair by the desk. Instead, she gracefully sat on the floor as he had and continued brushing the snarls out of her hair. “I wonder what it will be?”

  “Something that will please you.” Matt didn’t dare draw notice to what he counted as a victory. This was a fragile truce between them. But also, he’d hurt her last night. She needed to heal.

  He focused on scrubbing his body, splashing water everywhere. He didn’t fit in the tub as neatly as she did.

  Wiping water from his eyes, Matt squinted to see her holding a towel. “Thank you.” He started to take it, but then paused. “Unless you wish to dry me off?”

  Willa’s answer was to jump up and go to the wardrobe. She made a great production of choosing what she was going to wear for the day . . . however, as Matt dried himself off, he knew she was aware of his movements.

  Just as he was aware of hers.

  He was
disappointed, though, when she chose a dress and petticoats and disappeared behind the privacy screen. He took advantage of the moment to put on a pair of leather breeches, socks, and boots before starting to shave.

  Willa came out from behind the screen. “You don’t have a valet to do that?” The dress she’d chosen had a pattern of small flowers in shades of green.

  “I will,” he answered, rinsing his razor in the bowl before applying it again. Meeting her gaze in the looking glass, he said, “But I haven’t had one. Fortunately, I could serve as my own. However, we will need to hire almost a whole new staff. I pray you are up for the challenge.”

  Her eyes widened in wonder as if she had not expected him to foist responsibility on her. He was pleased when she didn’t back away from the idea but asked questions. As he shaved, he explained a bit about the state of Mayfield’s outlying properties. She’d soon learn the full truth. He wiped the last of the soap from his face with a damp towel and motioned for her to turn around.

  “What?” she said, balking . . . of course.

  “Your laces are too loose.” The dress was hanging from her.

  “It is hard to reach back there. I was going to summon Annie.”

  “Let me help. Now turn.” He made a circle in the air with his index finger.

  She offered him her back, drawing her hair out of the way. As he pulled on her lacings, a memory came to him.

  “When I was very little, sometimes I’d sneak to my parents’ bed.”

  “Why?”

  “Oh, because of a thunderstorm or a bad dream. Didn’t you ever do that?”

  “I couldn’t. Their rooms were on a different floor than the nursery. They would not have appreciated it. If I’d done that, Annie would have been in trouble.”

  “She has been with you that long?”

  Willa nodded.

  He made a bow knot. “Well, our house didn’t have floors. It was a thatched cottage and very cozy. But I remember watching my father do this for my mother. She’d move her hair just as you are, and he’d perform this small service.” He lightly touched her shoulder to let her know he was done. “Thank you. It was a good moment to remember.”

  For a second, she stared at him as if he was some unknown entity.

  And perhaps he was to her.

  He’d been raised in a loud, loving family until death and school had pulled them apart. Still, his sisters had done all they could to keep contact with him, even challenging his grandparents’ order that they were not to have access to him. They’d found a way.

  Willa had no one. She’d never experienced living closely with another.

  Matt moved to the wardrobe to find a shirt. Annie had unpacked Willa’s things and he wasn’t quite certain where she’d relocated his own clothes.

  As he searched, he carefully said, “I know you will wish to make changes in the household. Especially this room. It should reflect your tastes.”

  “Do you believe your grandmother will let me?”

  “She’ll protest every change,” he assured her with a smile. “But stand your ground, Willa. This is your home. I will support your decisions. The servants are already aware of who the mistress is.”

  Willa would be lying if she said this morning had been easy. She’d wanted nothing more than to never see Matt again. Thoughts of the disaster of last night were enough to make her hide in shame. And anger.

  She’d been led to believe it would all be fine. That she’d be as blissfully happy as Cassandra or Leonie, but that wasn’t how it had been.

  However, Matt was doing all he could to bridge the gap between them.

  His way was softer than her father’s would have been. Her father would have lashed out an order and expected to be obeyed.

  Matt was allowing her a bit of breathing room. The walking around naked had been disconcerting . . . and yet, she’d grown a bit accustomed to it. Especially when he’d served as her lady’s maid.

  He’d not taken advantage of her, even when his base desire was so obvious.

  And now, he was giving her the run of his household?

  She had no doubt the dowager would bristle at some of the things Willa had seen needed to be done just in the hours she’d been in this house. She also remembered her disappointment in Mayfield. Both properties were antiquated. An interest in making changes rose inside her. Domestic matters had always appealed to her.

  Matt was almost dressed. She searched for shoes. “What are we going to do today? Will we see your sisters?”

  “They told me they were leaving,” he answered with a shake of his head. “Kate rarely stays away long from her troupe. And Alice doesn’t like to be apart from Roland more than a few nights.”

  “So it is just us?”

  He nodded. “I thought it might be fun to see the sights of London. I’ve been too preoccupied since I gained the title to visit anywhere. You know the city far better than I. Where would you be going today if you could choose anywhere you wished to go?”

  What an enticing idea. “Anywhere?”

  “Besides shopping.” He shuddered in distaste.

  Willa knew exactly where she wanted to go. “Weeks Mechanical Museum. Have you heard of it?”

  His eyes lit with interest and surprise. “I have, but I haven’t been there.”

  “Neither have I, but I so wished to go. Father wouldn’t let me. He said such things were not suitable for a lady. I’ve heard there is a huge spider there that moves as if it is alive. They call it a tarantula.”

  “I don’t know if Weeks is the sort of a place for a lady,” Matt said doubtfully, stating exactly what her father would have declared, before he added, “But it might be a perfect place for a duchess.”

  Willa wanted to throw her arms around him in delight—and she almost did but stopped herself in time. It would have been too familiar. Too bold.

  But, oh, she wished she could let him know how happy he had just made her.

  She practically danced as she finished her toilette. She hurriedly poked pins in her braided and heavy hair and expected her bonnet to keep it all in place. She grabbed her gloves and a shawl. It was going to be another lovely autumn day and she was anxious for the adventure.

  Matt opened the bedroom door, allowing her to pass through first. Annie waited in the hall, and her anxious expression gave way to a smile when Willa made an appearance. “You look very fine this morning, Your Grace,” she said to Willa.

  “We are going to Weeks, Annie.” Willa didn’t know if Annie knew about the museum. Still, she had to tell someone. She liked saying it aloud. Finally, she could indulge her curiosity. Perhaps being married wasn’t such a terrible thing.

  “I pray you have a good day, Your Grace.”

  “We will, Annie,” Matt said. “If we are back late, don’t wait up.”

  “Yes, Your Grace.” There was a happy note in the maid’s voice.

  Weeks was everything Willa had imagined. The mechanical tarantula that had been described to her numerous times was as frightening and fascinating as everyone claimed. And to believe there were real creatures like it—?

  She soon learned that her husband’s scholarly pursuits had included a smattering of all topics. He liked history, literature, and the sciences. The mechanics of the different creations interested him. He and other gentlemen visiting the museum began speculating about the workings of the wheels and levers. They tried to poke their noses around corners to see exactly what was going on.

  The spider aside, Willa’s favorite exhibit was a lovely swan swimming on a lake of glass and silver. The look in the bird’s glass eye was lifelike.

  As music played, the elegant swan moved its head left and right. Occasionally, it would stop and pause as if spying a fish in the water. Then it would actually bend its neck as if pretending to catch and swallow its dinner.

  Afterward, because the day was still lovely, Matt and Willa walked down the street, enjoying the afternoon sun.

  “Weeks was a grand adventure,” Willa enthu
sed. “Although I don’t understand how they designed that one automaton”—one of the new words she had learned that afternoon—“of a lady blowing a horn.”

  “That was interesting,” Matt agreed, however before he could say more, something ahead of them caught his eye. A crowd of children were gathered under the eaves of a house. A small girl was crying and the others were arguing loudly among themselves.

  Matt moved ahead, Willa following.

  “What is the matter?” he asked the crying child. She pointed up to the gutter where a black kitten with white feet clung precariously for its dear life. His frantic mews were heart-rending. He tried to pull himself up but lacked the strength.

  A boy next to the girl said, “I told her we must let him fall. Cats have nine lives. Boots won’t be hurt.”

  Willa could beg to differ. The drop was over two floors. She didn’t see how such a wee kitten could survive.

  “How did Boots end up there?” Willa asked.

  “He climbed the tree,” one of the other children said. “He’s too afraid to go back.” The tree was a horse chestnut whose limbs were close to the house. The kitten had apparently jumped to the gutter. For what purpose, no one knew.

  Before she could offer an opinion, Matt handed her his hat. “I’ve done this before.” He leaped for the tree’s lowest branch, which was higher than anyone else could reach. Like an acrobat, he heaved himself up, carefully staying close to the trunk.

  “Watch it,” Willa warned. The limbs might not be able to support Matt’s full weight. She didn’t want to think what could happen.

  His answer was a grin.

  He moved up, testing the limbs as he did.

  A woman who was actually a few inches shorter than Willa had come to her side. “Does he realize he is endangering his life for cat?” She held a hand up to shade her eyes against the sun so she could watch Matt climb.

  “I believe he does,” Willa said.

  “Well, he is a better soul than I am. You children had best pray nothing happens to that gentleman.”

  “Yes, Mother,” one of them said. The others were too intent on Matt’s daring kitten rescue to answer.

  He climbed out on a limb. The branches shook with his movements. Willa wasn’t the only one holding her breath. He reached out. The kitten’s hold on the gutter pipe had grown more tenuous until it seemed as if the poor creature was barely hanging on by a claw.