The intoxicating scent of the flowers surrounded them and offered him tangible proof the events were truly taking place. Unable to restrain himself any longer, Greyson glanced down at Lady Willimena. Her gaze fixed upon the minister, and she didn’t appear to be aware of anyone else in the room.
Greyson focused back on the minister as the marriage license was presented. He willingly signed his name and watched as his bride neatly penned hers under his. Satisfaction flooded him and enlarged his chest. It was over now. Lady Willimena had become his wife, and his connection to the duke was solidified.
Facing the crowd, Greyson took his wife’s arm and led her through the people and out the doors of St. George’s. As soon as their feet met the steps, Greyson halted. The exuberance of the cheers greeting them astounded him.
Instead of rushing into the waiting carriage, he stood, wanting to soak in the sounds of approval. As he slowly led his bride forward, he tossed coins to the crowd. Their gratefulness caused them to cheer louder.
After handing his wife into the carriage, he climbed in and leaned back against the seat. This moment would be complete perfection if his bride harbored even the slightest desire to be with him.
“How do you feel, Lady Merrick?” he asked, loving the sound of her new name.
“A bit overwhelmed, my lord. And you?”
“I’m pleased with the day.”
Her hands clasped together in her lap, and she didn’t make eye contact with him. He didn’t understand what had changed so drastically between them. The last time they shared a private moment, she seemed at ease around him and even welcomed his presence. Now she looked like she wanted to be anywhere but with him.
“Is there something amiss?” he could not refrain from asking.
“Everything is fine.” Her smile didn’t reach her eyes.
Determined to not allow her dislike of him to ruin his pleasure at the culmination of his plans, he stopped trying to engage her in conversation. His hands itched to shuffle his cards, but he resisted the urge. Producing the cards at this time would appear to be gloating on his win against her father.
With his bride in such a mood, his pleasure at the upcoming events had been damaged. Closing his eyes, he pressed his head back against the carriage wall. He still wanted their wedding to be the event of the Season, and he would endure any discomfort to ensure success.
As soon as the carriage arrived at Richard’s townhouse, Greyson guided his bride inside and began to drift among the guests. The positive responses from the people bolstered his spirits and confirmed he had achieved his dream.
“Merrick,” the duke called. “I wonder if I may have a private word with you.”
Greyson nodded and led the way to the library. He knew what the duke wanted, and he agreed the time had arrived to settle their business. Although reluctant at times, he had to admit the duke upheld his end of the bargain admirably.
“I’m sure you are aware of what I wish to discuss,” the duke began as Greyson closed the door.
“Your vowels, I presume.”
“I have done my part and now that the wedding is over, so is our business.”
Greyson withdrew the parchment with the duke’s scrawl out of his coat pocket and handed it to him. He knew his temporary power over the duke had ended. The only thing he could do now was hope the man would not retaliate and cause potential harm to his daughter. She remained the only leverage he possessed.
“You have aided me more than I imagined,” Greyson acknowledged.
“I hope you realize I will no longer go out of my way to assist you. I must say, at first I relished the idea of ruining you at this moment. However, I don’t believe doing so will suit me any longer.”
Greyson remained emotionless as his eyes pierced the duke. If he changed his mind and acted on his plan, Greyson would have to hope the reputation he built could withstand the attack.
“A man must do what he must.”
The duke laughed. “That is one thing I like about you. This arrangement has proven more beneficial to me than I expected. You have removed a problem from my house, and I believe she deserves you.”
Although Greyson didn’t understand what he meant by his statement, he refused to ask. The bargain appeared to have been prosperous for them both, and that being the case, Greyson wanted the duke to remember it.
“I hope your daughter feels as though she received what she deserves as well.”
“If not, the task is left to you.” He laughed again. “During the short reprieve between dinner and the ball, I have invited several guests to join me at Everett House. I would like to extend the invitation to you and your wife.”
“Thank you. We will be happy to accept.”
“Good. Why don’t we join the others? I’m famished.”
As the two gentlemen returned to the drawing room, Greyson thought only of his bride. Would she thank him for the offer to spend more time with her family? Originally he’d intended to take her to Thorpe House, but after the carriage ride, he didn’t imagine she wished to be alone with him any more than necessary.
Their marriage already had a bad start, and nothing he could do would repair it.
Willimena Abigail Thorpe, Viscountess Merrick, entered her father’s house with a sense of detachment. As she took in the familiar setting, she realized the place would never feel the same again. This house would no longer contain her. Her father could not touch her, for she no longer bore his name.
Glancing through the corner of her eye at her husband, she shuddered. Every time she looked at him, she saw images of him unclothed and leaning over her as her mother described. From the severe expression he’d worn the majority of the day, she wasn’t surprised he intended to cause her pain that very evening. Even his choice to spend the only break they’d had today with her father added to her suffering.
She had been looking forward to a moment when she didn’t have to be the center of attention. The compliments on her gown had made enduring the weight almost worth it, but what more would she be forced to endure? Would she be able to walk by the end of the ball?
“I’m so glad you came,” Julia greeted her. “I wasn’t sure what your plans were, but I hoped I would get a chance to talk to you.”
“I’m glad to see you as well. After spending the day speaking with countless people I don’t know, it’s a pleasure to see a familiar face.”
Julia led her to some unoccupied chairs where Abigail gratefully sat.
“That gown looks heavy. I remember my wedding day. Nothing could compare to my anxiousness for Winston to take the dress off of me.”
Her cousin’s wink caused her face to heat. In all the talks with Julia where she alluded to intimate time with her husband, she’d never expressed discomfort in the act. Abigail wanted to ask her cousin about her experience, but bit her tongue. Not only would it be an inappropriate question, but they could be overheard.
“I do long to remove it, but I would be satisfied with the assistance of a maid.”
“Why are you not happy today? Considering how you feel about your husband, I would have thought you would be as joyous as I was.” Julia lightly touched Abigail’s shoulder in a comforting manner.
“I’ll admit I do like Lord Merrick, but I can’t see how that would bring me happiness. I’m only anxious for this all to be over, so I can be removed to the country.”
“Oh, I see.” Julia pitched her voice low. “You are worried about the wedding night. Don’t be.”
Abigail almost took the opportunity to ask more questions, but Braiden chose that moment to approach. She had not seen much of her brother these past few days, but she could tell something had altered his opinion of Lord Merrick.
“Well, little sister, you are married now.” Braiden sat down beside her.
“I am.”
“Nothing will be the same without you here. Mother and Father will not know what to do with themselves, and my visits will be dull.”
“You overstate my importance.” Abigail sm
iled, always happy to hear how her brother valued her.
“So you will be moving to the country in a short while.”
“As of now, that is the plan.” Abigail bit her lip, distressed to discover the news had traveled past her mother and Julia. If her husband intended to go back on his word, she didn’t know how she would explain it.
“You will continue to write to me, correct? I have enjoyed your weekly letters more than I can say.”
“Of course.” Abigail swallowed, feeling the lump in her throat. Although pleased to escape her father, she would miss her mother and brother. “Will you come visit me at Merrick? My husband informed me I could entertain visitors.”
“You can count on it. When you are ready for a visitor, let me know, and I will be there.”
Her brother smiled, and she felt transported to the years before when they were inseparable. Their relationship would never be like that again. Tearing her gaze from him, she tried to shake off her emotions. The day had proved trying enough without adding to it with nostalgic memories. Before long, her reprieve ended, and she stood, ready to play the part of happy bride.
The remainder of the evening passed uneventfully. During the ball, she danced every set and still had dance requests she had to deny for lack of time. Her feet burned and her body ached, but she had long ago learned to keep her physical pain hidden.
As they entered her new home, only two servants stood waiting for them. She felt grateful there wasn’t another huge ordeal she would have to endure.
“Due to the late hour, I requested the other servants be sent to bed,” Lord Merrick informed her. “Allow me to introduce Holland, our butler, and Mrs. Boart, the housekeeper.” Then he turned to Holland and Mrs. Boart. “This is Lady Willimena Thorpe, Viscountess Merrick.”
“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” Abigail greeted as they bowed.
“I’m sure you are exhausted, my lady. Please allow me to direct you to your bedchamber,” Mrs. Boart offered.
Abigail glanced over to her husband for permission, but he looked at her with his eyebrows raised. She could not believe he gave her the choice. Her father always answered for her mother, even to the servants.
“I would be most appreciative.” Abigail followed Mrs. Boart while the men stayed behind. As she turned to go up the stairs, she peeked back at her husband. His eyes fixed upon her with an intensity that made her tremble. He may be allowing her to leave now, but her escape would be temporary.
Entering the opulent bedchamber, Abigail gasped. The furnishings appeared new and must have cost a vast sum. The room, being decorated in deep green and gold, suited her fine, and she smiled in wonder at her husband’s consideration. Crossing to the bed, she ran her fingers along the silken coverlet, exalting in the texture.
“Sandra was hired to assist you in the future, but tonight I would be pleased to help you.”
As Mrs. Boart approached her, panic rose in Abigail’s chest. It would not be wise to allow any of the staff to be aware of her armor or the true color of her hair. The repercussions of not having Mary here suddenly assaulted her.
“Thank you,” Abigail said hesitantly. “If you could simply unfasten the back, I believe I can manage the rest.”
“There is no need. I would be happy to help you remove the gown. I’m sure it’s heavy.”
“Your kindness is appreciated, but as the hour is late, I would prefer you get your rest.” Abigail could see the fight and determination set in the woman’s face. “I believe my husband would agree if he were here.”
At the mention of Lord Merrick, Mrs. Boart stopped. Her face softened and a knowing smile touched her lips.
“I see. Just turn around, and I’ll unfasten you.”
Abigail’s face burned in mortification, but she nodded and did as told. Although she would have liked to correct the woman’s mistaken assumption, not having to further explain took precedence. The idea that everyone knew what would happen to her tonight made her stomach roll.
“All done,” Mrs. Boart announced. “I’ll leave you then. If you need anything, just ring for me.”
“Thank you.”
Mrs. Boart nodded then left Abigail alone with the huge gown. As soon as the door clicked shut, she slid the bodice down and off her arms. She sighed at the immediate relief in her shoulders. Not wanting to be in the gown another second, she grasped the fabric around her waist and pulled up. Nothing happened.
She simply could not lift the top of the dress higher than her bosom. She was far too fatigued. After several minutes of helplessly struggling, she slipped her hands under the gown and unfastened her petticoats, pushing them off her hips. With the resistance gone, the gown caved in on itself, allowing her freedom. With a sense of relief, she stepped out of the gown then left the pile of clothes on the floor as she quickly removed her armor then hid it in the bottom of her trunk.
As she donned her nightdress, she contemplated her situation. There were only two options she could see. The first would be to confess her deception to her husband and forgo her armor in the future. Second, she could pray her new maid, Sandra, being recently hired, could be trustworthy and become an ally. She decided the latter sounded like a better option. No one would be allowed to help her dress but Sandra.
The next complication was her hair. If she slept with the powder, it would damage the silken sheets and raise questions with the servants. However, washing it would allow the red to show. Her husband would be here tonight. If he saw her without her armor and with red hair, would he be angry? Surely tonight wasn’t the night for confessions.
Sighing, she made her way to the basin of water. Normally washing her long hair took a good amount of time, but as she had no idea how much she had, she did her best to clean out as much as possible. Then she wrapped a towel around her head to dry her hair.
She approached the bed and untied the curtains. If she could limit the amount of light in the room, she may be able to survive the night without too many explanations. Some things, like her body size, were unavoidable, but she hoped he would be a gentleman and not ask.
When her tasks were done, she tossed the towel behind the dressing screen, ran a brush through her hair, then blew out the candle on the night table. The room went black. Feeling surrounded by the darkness and the fear of what was to come, she dashed behind the curtain and under the covers.
With nothing left to do but wait, her body trembled and tears stung her eyes. Although exhaustion assaulted her and sleep beckoned her, terror kept them at bay. She would have no rest tonight.
Chapter 7
Greyson tossed back his brandy then crossed the room to pour another. Giving in to temptation, he brought the decanter to his desk. His attempt to limit his drinking by keeping distance between him and the bottle wasn’t working anyway. Pouring a glass, he slowly swirled the liquid around.
His bride, his wife, waited for him upstairs, yet he remained downstairs locked in his study. How could he even think of joining her, knowing she detested him? In all his planning, he’d never contemplated the effects his maneuvering would have on the wedding night.
Anger filled him, tightening his grip on the glass. The burn of the alcohol down his throat only enraged him further. He didn’t make a habit of drinking alone, but here he was, doing his best to finish off an entire bottle. After an inner battle, he controlled the urge to hurl the offending glass across the room.
Slamming the glass down, he ripped off his cravat and unbuttoned the top of his shirt. What was he supposed to do? If his wife lay awake waiting for him, his delay or lack of entrance would only prolong her torture. Sighing, he knew the answer. It had to be done tonight.
He dragged his feet up the stairs as he made his way to his bedchamber. Although anxious for this to be over, he could not stifle the sense of dread coursing through him. Tomorrow would be better, or that is what he kept telling himself. However, if she hated him even more after tonight, no amount of tomorrows would improve his situation.
Once i
nside his bedchamber, he removed his boots then continued to strip off items until he stood in only his shirt and trousers. An odd thought struck him, leaving his hands hovering over the hem of his shirt. How should he be attired when he joined his wife in her bed?
Arriving unclothed or only in his dressing gown appeared too eager, but being fully clothed was impractical. With all his previous encounters, clothing had not been an issue, and he’d never given the decision a moment’s thought. Sitting on the edge of his bed, he held his face in his hands. Why had he neglected to plan this night until it was too late? The alcohol he’d consumed that day had had its effect, and had left his mind unable to see as clearly as usual.
Then it struck him. He only had to breech her maidenhood, and their marriage would be consummated. Arriving in his current state of dress would ensure the least amount of contact. Therefore, lessen his desire to continue. The whole ordeal would be over in a matter of seconds.
Filled with purpose, Greyson stood, then went in search of the cream Melisande gave him. The additional moisture it provided would ease the passage for an untried woman. Shoving the jar into his pocket, he opened the door joining his room to his wife and stepped into the blackness.
As his eyes adjusted, he saw faint outlines in the minimal moonlight. The room smelled fresh from the new rugs and furnishings he’d purchased for his bride. He wondered if she approved, but now wasn’t the time to find out.
Striding forward, he noticed the curtains around the bed had been drawn in a silent protest to his presence. She’d hidden herself inside as if he would be unable to find her. Taking a deep breath, he reminded himself this was his right. He wasn’t a villain breaking in to violate an innocent.
As he slowly drew the curtain back, he realized he could not see inside at all. Part of him wanted to remove the curtains and light a candle, but he knew leaving it thus would offer her comfort.
“Lord Merrick?” The squeaky voice sounded nothing like the woman who’d presented herself well today, despite her reluctance to marriage.
His Perfect Game Page 10