“Know what?” Greyson demanded.
“Only that I’m pleased to welcome you into the family as a brother. My sister could not have found a better choice.”
“Your opinion is easily changed.” Suspicion infused his words. Somehow he’d missed a major part of the conversation.
Hauney stood there, smiling like a fool and not explaining his sudden change of feelings.
Greyson bristled. For some reason, everyone deemed it necessary to leave him out of the amusement this evening, and the exclusion irritated him.
“Do you know where Stonemede keeps his brandy? I’m in need of a drink.” Hauney settled into a chair and watched him expectantly.
As Greyson collected the glasses and Richard’s private reserve, he wondered at Hauney’s strange transformation. Had he believed he would harm Lady Willimena and now was satisfied of her safety? Though he wanted to, he knew asking would not result in the desired answer.
He handed Hauney a glass before sitting on the sofa. His mind once again thought back to the duke as well as Lady Willimena’s appeal at the Arctic ball. If something untoward had occurred with them, Hauney would know. Taking a long drink of his brandy, Greyson formed his question.
“Are you glad to be back in London? I understand you live on your estate.”
“I’m always pleased to be in town. London is amusing, and of course, I enjoy seeing my family.” Hauney’s smile was indulgent. “It will not be the same with my sister gone, though.”
“I imagine not. Do you suppose she is happy to be leaving?”
“I’m sure she will be very pleased to be Viscountess Merrick. Don’t concern yourself.”
Greyson set his glass down and steepled his hands over his knees. Either his questions had come across too subtle, or his imagination had created the whole thing. One last question remained. One that would give him the answer he sought and put his concerns to rest.
“What about your mother? How will she fare to not have you or her daughter home any longer? Do you suspect she will be content living with just her and the duke alone in the house?”
“It will take some adjustment, but yes. I do believe she will be pleased to see her children gone and prospering.”
Greyson leaned back, feeling relief in the knowledge. No hesitation sounded in Hauney’s voice, and his eyes remained open and without guile. Greyson nodded. He had nothing to worry about. Once Lady Willimena and he wed, the duchess would have no problems, save those of her own making.
After exchanging a few other pleasant words, Greyson led the way back to the drawing room. Seeing Richard standing beside his wife, Greyson knew this was his opportunity to seek out Lady Willimena.
For some unknown reason, he wanted to be by her side. She stood away from the other gathered guests, speaking to her father. From the man’s stance, he wasn’t pleased. Curious, Greyson edged closer to the two.
“I will not tolerate your lies, nor will I hear another word. You will be married whether you wish it or not. If I hear another word of complaint from your brother, it will not bode well for you. Do you understand?” the duke spat.
“Yes, Father.” Lady Willimena’s whisper was barely audible.
At that moment, Greyson felt a ripping in his chest. His hopes and desires faded. She didn’t want to marry him. He foolishly thought they had progressed past this, and that she’d found contentment with her future. He had deceived himself.
His body straightened as his deliberate cold façade finally returned to him. Emotions only caused trouble, and he’d been ignorant to think otherwise. From now on, he would return to being a detached man, one who knew how to survive in this world.
Abigail dragged her bruised and bleeding body up the stairs and into her bedchamber. This was to be her last night in her father’s house, so she should not have been surprised to receive one last beating from him. After tonight, the right to beat her would belong to her husband.
As soon as she closed the door, Mary stood, waiting to assist her. Without a word, she helped Abigail out of her ruined dress and began applying the salve to her skin. Although the pressure caused pain, she knew eventually relief would come.
“I have packed a jar of the ointment for you, and I placed a note in your trunk detailing what to request if you need more. Just give the paper to your maid, and she can get it for you.”
Fresh tears sprang to her eyes to realize Mary would not be there for her any longer. Turning, Abigail put her arms around her maid and squeezed as tightly as she could manage. In all her years, Mary remained the only one who understood, the only one willing to help.
“I’ll miss you so much,” Abigail managed to say between sobs.
“Me, too, my lady. Now don’t cry. You would not wish for your eyes to be puffy and red for your wedding, would you?”
Abigail drew in a shaky breath as she allowed Mary to continue applying the cream. Mary was right. Her wedding could be the beginning of something grand. Lord Merrick could offer an end to her suffering. That is, if he proved to be a man of his word.
This next chapter of her life filled her with trepidation and uncertainty. The present was familiar but dreadful, whereas the future was unknown and frightening. Tomorrow she would embrace her future, and she hoped it would turn out better for her than she expected.
Chapter 6
Abigail could not stop her hands from trembling nor could she stop the rapid beating of her heart. As a child she had dreamed of her wedding and how wonderful the experience would be. Then, after she learned of man’s true nature, she had hoped this day would never arrive.
The schedule for the day was to be extravagant. The guests were to be served luncheon before the wedding, then dinner afterward. Finally, her father had planned a ball for the evening. Exhaustion overwhelmed her simply by thinking of it all.
Her betrothed wanted this to be the event of the Season. Almost every person in London had been invited, and, much to her surprise, the confirmations of guests attending reached an extremely high number. She had no idea how so many people would be accommodated, but her mother had assured her everything would be managed to satisfaction.
“How is she doing?” her mother asked from the doorway to Abigail’s nearly empty bedchamber.
“She is almost done, Your Grace. I only have to reapply the hair powder where it wore away when I styled her hair.” Mary grabbed the jar of powder as if to emphasize her words.
“May I at least have a look at myself?” Abigail asked. She had been trying to catch a glimpse of her reflection since she put on her opulent yellow gown, but Mary had refused.
Abigail fingered the delicate silk again. The smooth texture felt magnificent and made her wonder how luxurious it would feel without all the padding she wore underneath. The gown had taken the seamstress over three weeks to construct. Peering down at the pearls and intricate patterns created with lace, she didn’t doubt they’d used the time wisely.
“Yes. You are ready now.”
As she stood, she winced against the pain. Her body throbbed from the wounds she had received last night as well as the immense weight of the dress. Attempting to move as gracefully as possible, she glided toward the mirror.
The dress combined with the pearls adorning her hair provided a stunning effect. Although the dress was gorgeous, the shade of yellow didn’t work well with her light-toned skin, but her father had insisted upon the color. No doubt in another attempt to control her.
Her dull hair created another imperfection adding to the overall dowdy effect. She’d never lamented the lack of shine as much as she had this last month. Forcing her mind from things beyond her control, she grabbed her hideous glasses and shoved them onto her face. The only benefit they provided was hiding her sallow complexion.
“You look marvelous, my dear.” Her mother took Abigail’s hands and held them out.
“I agree,” Mary added. “This dress is breathtaking.”
“Thank you both. I’m not sure how I will carry this weight a
round all day, but I do feel beautiful.”
“As it’s only one day, I’m sure you will manage.” Her mother turned to Mary. “Please give us a moment.”
“Yes, Your Grace.” Mary bowed then left them.
Her mother drew her to sit on the edge of the bed. Although Abigail had no idea what this talk would consist of, she enjoyed the opportunity to spend a quiet moment with her mother before the insanity of the day began.
“It’s customary for the married females in the family to instruct the bride on what is to be expected the night of her wedding, but I believe it would be better for me to tell you alone. Besides, from my memory, many of those women had the wrong idea of it.”
Abigail’s face heated at the topic, but her curiosity kept her immobile. She’d heard mention of wifely duties without knowing exactly what they entailed. The idea of a group of women gathering to discuss such a sensitive matter sounded odd, but traditions didn’t always make sense to her.
Although embarrassed, Abigail nodded for her to continue.
“As the subject is . . . uncomfortable, I will not delve into full detail.” She cleared her throat as red colored her cheeks. “Tonight your husband will wish to be in your bed, and the act to follow does not require clothes for either party.”
“Am I to go to bed unclothed?” Shock resounded in her words.
“You may, or your nightdress can be removed once he arrives. He may touch you in places you would not expect, but don’t fear, simply lie still and allow him.” Her mother sighed deeply as if reluctant to continue.
“That does not sound as dreadful as I anticipated.” Abigail smiled, hoping to ease some of her mother’s distress. “Although awkward, I can’t imagine a touch causing too much discomfort.”
“Sometimes, but I haven’t told you the whole of it.” Her mother wrung her hands. “He will lie on top of you and, well, you shall see. Once again, I urge you to lie still. The pain is more bearable if you don’t move. Then when it’s over, he will leave.”
Abigail stared at her mother, speechless. The whole ordeal sounded dreadfully embarrassing and, judging by the pained expression on her mother’s face, undesirable.
After hearing the account, she wondered why some women would seek men out to engage in the activity knowing of the terrible outcome. Perhaps her mother had the wrong of it.
“Are you certain?” Abigail tried to keep the hope out of her voice.
“Yes.” Her mother shifted uncomfortably in her chair. “I have never told anyone this, but your father isn’t the only man I have experienced in bed.”
Abigail’s mouth fell open as astonishment raced through her body. “What are you saying? You have a lover?”
“No, nothing like that. I was fifteen and imagined myself to be in love. He charmed me and convinced me we would run away and marry. It was horrible. Afterward, I ran back home and never saw him again. Three years later, I married your father.”
Blood pounded in Abigail’s head. How could her mother engage in that activity with another man? The very thought was preposterous. And how could she keep such a secret for all these years? Abigail took a deep breath and forced her shaking fingers to still.
“Does Father know?”
“I have never told him, but I suspect he does. After our wedding night, he . . . he treated me differently.”
“And since then, has there been anyone else?” She didn’t speak above a whisper, as she could barely bring herself to ask the question. Was the duke not her true father?
“No. Since that one time, your father is the only man I have allowed near me. The act isn’t something I seek out. Besides, your father would not hesitate to kill me if I even entertained the thought.”
Hanging her head down, Abigail realized her mother spoke the truth. The duke was her father. He wasn’t a man who would accept unfaithfulness from his wife.
Her stomach churned as a ringing sounded in her ears. Hearing of the act made her wish she’d never met Lord Merrick. He would be the one doing the horrible things to her tonight. She swallowed the bile rising in her throat and worked to force a smile.
“If you survived it,” she said in a trembling voice, “I believe I can manage as well. I’ll simply lie still. After all, I’m accustomed to pain.”
Although her words were meant to soothe, her mother burst into tears. Abigail reached out to comfort her, but her mother pushed her hand away.
“I don’t want to ruin your dress,” her mother said shakily after the worst of her tears subsided. “I’m sorry you had to suffer so much. I only hope your husband will be kind.”
“I’m sure he will,” Abigail assured with more confidence than she felt. “Remember he has already agreed to allow me to live at Merrick alone.”
“Yes, he will be kind as he has already shown you. Everything will be all right. Don’t fret.”
Abigail squeezed her mother’s hand, drawing comfort from her presence. This new knowledge of her wedding night only served to increase her nervousness for the upcoming evening. She once again wondered why women, or men for that matter, would willingly do such a thing if not for heirs.
“Does the pain extend to the man as well?” Abigail blurted.
“No. Therein lies the problem. Since it awards him a great pleasure, he may wish to engage in the act often. As wives, we have little choice in the matter.”
“I see.”
“Enough about that. Today is your wedding day. Soon you will no longer be just a duke’s daughter. You shall be a viscountess.”
Her mother’s discomfort seemed to clear as she stood and assisted Abigail to her feet. It was time. The luncheon had been served, and her groom awaited her at the church.
Greyson paced the stifling room in the back of St. George’s. The wedding day had finally arrived. Though he’d thought to be more excited.
The luncheon he’d hosted only hours ago had turned out to be more of a success than he’d expected. His servants had to frantically work to find places to seat all the guests who had not previously notified them of their intention to arrive. At any other time, he would have been irritated, but to have so many at his first official event had been worth the trouble.
Glancing at his watch fob, Greyson sighed. He had another twenty minutes to wait until the wedding began. He had not encountered Lady Willimena since the dinner at Richard’s, and he felt anxious to see her now. Reminders of how he was most likely the last person she wanted to see stabbed at him, but he ignored the pain. Regardless, the wedding would go on.
A knock at the door brought both Richard and Jonathan, who would be standing for him. Both his friends wore similar expressions of happiness, and he wished he could return the sentiment.
“How does it feel to be minutes away from a leg-shackling?” Jonathan asked, then grunted as Richard elbowed him in the ribs.
“Having a wife isn’t nearly as unpleasant as you make it out to be,” Richard explained. “You will soon agree with me, Greyson.”
“I have no doubt,” Greyson replied dryly. “I’m simply anxious to have the ceremony over and am looking forward to the dinner at Richard’s. The brandy is always superb and the company excellent.”
“On your wedding day, surely you are looking forward to much more than Richard’s subpar offerings.” Jonathan continued ignoring Richard’s claims of outrage. “I, for one, would be anxious for the offerings from your wife.”
“At present she isn’t my wife, and I refuse to discuss such with you.”
Jonathan and Richard laughed.
“I remember a time when—”
“Jonathan,” Richard warned. “Surely you can behave yourself this one time.”
“I’ll do my best.” Jonathan settled back in a chair, but didn’t lose his smirk.
“Well, Greyson, your luncheon turned out a success. I was impressed by the large number of attendees.”
“It’s remarkable how mention of the duke changes people’s preconceived notions. During the betrothal I received a fe
w invitations, but after the wedding I’m expecting a number of others.”
“At the moment you have quite a few people backing your acceptance into society, and I’m sure your marriage will secure more.” Richard clapped him on the back and gave him a smile.
Jonathan stood up to join them again. “I’m pleased for you, my friend. However, I will say if your wedding ceremony is as boring as Richard’s, I’ll cause a commotion. It will provide you with unique memories to reflect upon for many years to come.”
“Don’t solidify your plans as of yet. Until our names are on that license, I’m not entirely convinced everything will run as smoothly as expected.”
“My lord,” a servant called, “your presence is requested in the church.”
Greyson nodded then the three friends filed out of the room and up the aisle to take the customary place beside the minister. Standing there, taking in all the smiling faces, felt surreal. So many nights had been spent maneuvering and planning this, and the moment had finally arrived. All these people had come to witness and celebrate the occasion with him.
The music began, bringing the joyous melody to precede his bride. Greyson’s chest tightened around his wildly pumping heart. And then she arrived.
Lady Willimena slowly approached him in the most extravagant gown he had ever seen her wear. Similar to her other ensembles, this one exhibited her modesty, with fabric covering her clear up to her neck. He decided he liked the mystery she presented. All wrapped up and waiting for him.
As she neared him, he noticed how her face, although tinted yellow by the dress, lacked her usual color. The sight worked like cold water, cooling his ardor and washing away his thoughts. He’d almost allowed himself to be swept up in the thrill of the day and forgotten how much his bride didn’t wish to marry him.
Steeling himself against emotion, he kept his eyes on her as her father brought her to him. His cool demeanor didn’t fade as the duke sanctioned the union in front of everyone gathered, nor did it diminish as the minister recited the words sealing his bride to him.
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