Redemption of the Duke

by Gayle Callen

  “A good wedding breakfast?” she teased, though her heart seemed to be beating in her ears, and she couldn’t take a deep enough breath.

  He pulled her into his arms and kissed her hungrily for what seemed like endless minutes of mutual passion. His hands skimmed down her back and captured her backside. Her nightclothes were so thin it was as if he touched her bare flesh, and she moaned.

  How far would he go—how far would she let him? She’d spent their several-week engagement avoiding this contact, knowing that if she let him touch her, she might burst into flames. It felt that way now, like she was so hot she could strip off her clothes.

  “I’ve been aching for you,” he said against her temple. “I want to touch you, to show you how you make me feel.”

  Passion, desire—those feelings were permissible in a marriage, but they weren’t love. How could Faith let herself love him, when she could be the cause of the social ruin of his whole family?

  He stiffened. “You’re drifting away from me, I can feel it.”

  “I’m sorry. I’m just so . . . frightened.”

  He cupped her face to look into her eyes. “Of me?”

  “No, you’ve been good to me. I’m afraid I won’t be a good wife for you, that my past—”

  “Stop it,” he said firmly. “Don’t speak of it again.”

  “But it happened, Adam, and we can’t wish it away.”

  “I’m not wishing anything away. Everything you’ve experienced has made you the person you are. But it’s the past, and we are going forward into the future, the married future where I make you blissfully happy, day and night. Your doubts make me think you don’t trust me.”

  “Oh, Adam, you’ve been honorable to me.” She saw the flash of pain in his eyes, knew he was thinking about his own mistakes. It was her turn to say, “Everything is in the past. Let us both promise that we’ll forget it.” And then she kissed him softly, awash with tender feelings for him because the sorrow that had first brought them together had turned into a mutual regard. Was it love? Or was she too afraid to admit that? “Sleep well, Adam.”

  He sighed. “I must leave?”

  “You must leave.” And for just a moment, she had a terrible thought. She wasn’t a virgin—what if he insisted on staying?

  But he never said that, only kissed her brow and left.

  And she hated herself for letting her past mar her present. They’d agreed that the past was finished and shouldn’t affect them, but it was so easy to say, and difficult to do.

  The ceremony at the church seemed to pass by in a dream for Faith. Strangers crowded the church courtyard to get a glimpse of her when she arrived, the next Duchess of Rothford.

  Looking at Adam in his dark blue frock coat and tan trousers, smiling at her so tenderly, it finally felt real. She saw her first glimpse of his two friends, Blackthorne and Knightsbridge, standing next to him before the altar. They were big men, with the same competent ease that Adam had, men who knew their capabilities and had tested their own self-worth. Charlotte, Jane, and Sophia were there for her, looking lovely in gowns of various shades of blue.

  The ceremony itself was a blur, and she focused on his face, on the tenderness in his eyes, the proud smile he wore, as if he’d really won a prize marrying her. It touched her heart. He was her husband now, and it was strange and wonderful and frightening all at once. Soon she was alone in a carriage with Adam for the short drive back to his home—their home.

  He grinned and then gave her a possessive kiss. “Hello, Duchess.”

  She was speechless at the title, but he just laughed and kissed her again.

  At Rothford Court, the orange flowers in her hair were reproduced in sugar atop the wedding cake. The wedding breakfast was more of a dinner than morning fare, cold lobster salad and chicken, ham and game pie, jellies and sweets. And at last, Adam was able to introduce her to his friends from the army.

  Viscount Blackthorne, the lone one of the three still with the Eighth Dragoon Guards and a sergeant, not an officer, had a broad face and stark cheekbones beneath his brown hair. His expression serious and intelligent, he bowed over her hand. “Best wishes, Your Grace.”

  Faith almost turned around to see if Adam’s mother was behind her. The shiver she felt was mostly nerves. “Thank you so much, my lord.”

  His wife, whom he’d married while half a world apart, also pressed her hand and smiled. She was the former Lady Cecilia Mallory, daughter of the Earl of Appertan, the late commander of the Eighth Dragoons. She was the picture of innocent English beauty, with blond hair and vivid blue eyes, but she was a woman who’d managed her father’s great estates, and planned to do the same for her husband.

  “Your Grace,” Lady Blackthorne said, “I am so glad you were married before our ship departs. We are leaving for India within the month, so my husband can return to his regiment.”

  “Oh, I do hope we haven’t kept you from all you must do!” Faith said.

  “Nonsense,” Lord Blackthorne said. “Cecilia already has everything well organized. I’m glad for the excuse to make her relax and enjoy a good party.”

  “It seems you married your match, Michael,” said the other man, Lord Knightsbridge, in a dry, amused voice.

  He was a handsome man with deep black hair and vivid green eyes, the latter of which fondly returned to his wife, who held his arm. Lady Knightsbridge, her light brown hair styled simply, looked in Faith’s general direction, but her beautiful amber eyes were blank. It was her smile that made her striking, full of happiness and confidence. She was obviously no invalid, as so many of the blind were usually treated. She was a woman who’d been widowed, secluded deliberately by her family, and then had moved to an inherited property and managed her own life.

  Faith could only be in awe of both these women, running estates like men, yet had found love with men who respected them. She felt herself mildly envious, because she didn’t know if she’d ever join the ranks of well-loved women. She didn’t know what her future would hold. And it was frightening.

  “So how did you two meet?” Lady Knightsbridge asked. She tilted her head in Faith’s direction. “My husband was not very good at discovering the romantic details.”

  “There weren’t many romantic details to tell,” Adam said. “I offered her a position as lady’s companion with my aunt.”

  Faith blushed, knowing they all understood that living within the same household had contributed toward the hasty marriage. But all their expressions remained pleasant and interested.

  “None of us were romantic,” Lady Blackthorne said. “I asked my husband to marry me in a letter to India, since I needed access to my inheritance. I never thought we’d even meet.”

  Lady Knightsbridge chuckled. “And I needed an escort away from my family, so my dear Robert offered to pretend to be my fiancé.”

  Faith almost gaped at the forthright women, noticing how all the men just watched them fondly before exchanging amused glances with each other. She realized that, just like Adam, Blackthorne and Knightsbridge also wanted to make up for the mistakes they’d made in India. It had obviously worked out for all of them.

  She just couldn’t imagine such a happy ending for her and Adam. Faith had secrets to hide that must never be revealed. But at least Adam knew, which made her feel a little less deceptive.

  She eventually mingled with other guests, all of whom she’d met either in Society or at her engagement party. She noticed the revolving partners that whirled around Sophia, Lord Shenstone as her false suitor, Mr. Percy as her “friend” who was beginning to behave like a martyr, and Lady Emmeline, glorying in the sympathy of every man who knew her. It was like a Shakespearean comedy, only Faith could not see how any happy endings would result.

  At one point, when Adam left her alone, his mother came up to point out someone she’d felt that Faith ha
d slighted with attention so far. Faith thanked her and was about to do her bidding, when the dowager duchess stopped her.

  “Faith,” she said, using her Christian name for the first time, “my son tells me you did not wish to take a wedding trip.”

  “No, Your Grace. You all have done too much for me. I would rather stay here and continue my help with Lady Duncan’s speeches.”

  “But you should also think of yourself now. You must be tired from the exertions of a hurried wedding.”

  Faith tried not to frown, knowing she’d done nothing more than nod her head in approval to anything the duchess wanted.

  “Do go and see Rothford Castle. You might find yourself preferring it to London. Adam will be so busy now that he’s taking a more active role in the House of Lords.”

  And then Faith realized that the woman was trying to get rid of her. After everything she’d done these past weeks to make up for her accidental entry into this family, accepting questionable menu choices for her wedding breakfast, allowing the pale pink gown when another had caught her fancy, Faith had had enough.

  “Your Grace, I will see Rothford Castle when Adam wishes me to. And even then, I imagine we will see it together. We are newlyweds, after all.”

  Adam’s mother stared at her narrow-eyed for a moment, perhaps sizing her up, before giving a reluctant nod and moving away.

  Faith’s heart was still pounding from the encounter, but she chanced to see Adam staring at her from ten feet away, wearing an approving smile.

  “Very impressive,” said a woman from much closer.

  Faith turned to find Lady Knightsbridge sitting alone at the nearest table, her head cocked in an attitude of listening.

  She felt herself blushing. “My lady, I hope you do not think me rude to the woman who is now my mother-in-law.”

  “Oh, no, it was really quite entertaining. She obviously needed to be reminded that you are her son’s choice.”

  “But not hers,” Faith said in a rueful voice.

  “Do sit down, Your Grace.”

  Faith did so. “It seems strange to be called that. I’ve always simply been Faith.”

  “And I am Audrey. I, too, was a commoner when I married Robert, but there was no one to object, for he was very alone, with little close family. That is your own family situation, too, am I correct?”

  Faith nodded, then remembered Audrey couldn’t see her. “Yes. My brother died serving with the Eighth Dragoons.”

  “As did my late husband, as well as Cecilia’s father. We women are connected in a way, are we not? Three honorable men wanted to help us, and in some ways recover their own self-worth. I don’t know about you, but it was very difficult to separate the need to help from the true emotion of love.”

  “I don’t think I’m there yet,” Faith admitted, then winced. She didn’t even know this woman.

  Audrey’s smile was soft but determined. “Be patient with yourself and with him. Though I cannot see, I can hear the respect and admiration in the duke’s voice when he speaks of you. Close quarters can only increase that and deepen emotion. That happened for me. I will pray that the same happens for you. Who knows, maybe it already has, and you’re afraid to admit it.”

  Faith could only blink in astonishment.

  “There, you’re tongue-tied,” Audrey said, her smile growing into a sly grin. “I must be close to the truth. But don’t answer. You must believe it yourself.”

  Since the bride and groom usually left for a wedding trip after the breakfast, Faith felt a little silly and self-conscious just moving aimlessly about the house until the coming wedding night. Surely she’d feel eyes watching her, and many not happily, so she headed for her room. The duchess had been civil after Faith held her own in conversation, but Lady Tunbridge hadn’t even bothered to congratulate her on the wedding.

  But at least she’d allowed Frances to attend, dressed in a beautiful new gown Faith had asked to have made for her. She was still surprised Lady Tunbridge had accepted.

  When she arrived in her room, she found the door open and all of her personal effects gone.

  Ellen rose from a chair near the hearth and smiled. “Good afternoon, Your Grace.”

  Faith shook her head even as she returned the smile. “That is so strange to hear.”

  “I moved all your things for you, but thought you’d forget and come here first.”

  “You’re starting to know me too well, Ellen.”

  The girl blushed. “Come with me—wait until you see your beautiful suite!”

  And it was truly beautiful, with a brass bed, a dressing table with a heart-shaped mirror, wardrobe, chest of drawers, and a chaise longue at the foot of the bed. The paintings were lush landscapes of gardens and green rolling hills.

  “I’m told those are the grounds of Rothford Castle, ma’am,” Ellen said. “It was built many centuries ago. I’m excited to visit.”

  Faith smiled at the now-talkative maid. “I imagine we’ll go soon, but I don’t know when. I guess we’ll try to be patient.”

  Ellen walked her through the rest of the suite, her dressing room and bathroom, a shared sitting room, then they entered the master bedroom, with its dressing room and bath on the far side. The bed was massive, a four-poster with heavy curtains and a counterpane that matched a nearby sofa. Faith caught Ellen deliberately looking away from it, which amused and helped her relax. Then she retreated to her own bedchamber with its lovely writing desk full of little drawers, and started a dutiful letter to her mother about the wedding.

  Later that afternoon, as she was trying to decide what to wear to dinner after her bath, Ellen came in and said, “Oh, no, Your Grace, the duke has ordered dinner brought to your sitting room.”

  “Oh. How thoughtful.” And private. She couldn’t decide if she was glad to avoid the rest of the household or sad she wouldn’t have the distraction.

  One would think she was a virgin, the way she was so nervous!

  “Your Grace, let us choose a gown that’s easy to remove.”

  “Ellen!” Faith exclaimed, but she was laughing and blushing at the same time.

  The maid put her hands on her hips. “Well, you won’t want me to come back after dinner, now will you?”

  Chapter 21

  Faith remained in her bedroom until a maid respectfully announced that dinner was served in the duke’s sitting room. Taking a deep breath, she walked slowly to the door, telling herself that at least for tonight, she’d try to do nothing to remind her groom that there had been two men before him—one he didn’t even know about because she could not allow him to regularly look upon Timothy and know he’d taken Faith’s virginity. So she would be quiet in her passion, restrained and dignified, even if it took every bit of her control. And it would, for she’d been drawn to Adam almost from the first moment of seeing him, and her anticipation had only continued to rise until it was like an ache that just wouldn’t go away.

  She entered the sitting room and found that a small table had been set with beautiful china and linens, and tall candles blazed in the center. She stood there admiring it until the far door opened and Adam came in, his hair damp from the bath, shirt open at the collar, trousers and bare feet. They really were having an informal dinner, she thought, hiding a smile.

  “What?” he asked, grinning.

  “With your bare feet, you are making me feel terribly overdressed.”

  His smile faded, and he came to her. “You’re very overdressed.”

  And then he pulled her into his arms hungrily, bringing her up on her tiptoes until she twined her arms around his neck for their kiss.

  He kissed every part of her face, nuzzled behind her ear, then murmured, “Take down your hair.”

  She almost asked about dinner, and realized she’d only be betraying her nerves. And she, a woman wit
h experience.

  Reaching up, she began to pull the pins from her hair, and he watched with the rapt attention of a man about to win a prize he’d long coveted.

  “It was hell watching you all day and not touching,” he said in a hoarse voice, once her dark hair fell about her shoulders. He put his hands deep in her hair and lifted it to his face. “Heavenly.” Then he fisted it gently to pull her back against him. “Can dinner wait? I’m only hungry for you.”

  “You make me blush with such flattery,” she said, smiling with pleasure.

  He put his hands on the buttons at her throat. “May I make you blush another way?”

  Her breath caught, and at first all she could do was nod. “I can remove this, if you’d like.”

  “Let me. Convenient buttons, by the way.”

  “The gown was chosen for ease.”

  He chuckled. Each movement of his dexterous hands from button to button was as arousing as if he stroked her. At last he spread wide her bodice, and inhaled sharply upon just seeing her silky chemise.

  “You’re not wearing a corset,” he said hoarsely.

  “You’re not displeased?”

  “God, no.”

  He slid his hands up the side of her rib cage, just touching the outer curves of her breasts, making her shudder. At her shoulders, he pushed the gown back and down her arms, which made her arch forward. The neckline of the chemise revealed the upper slopes of her breasts, with no girlish frills to distract, and he was staring there, those blue eyes narrowed and intent. It was as if he forgot about pulling her hands out of her tight sleeves, leaving her almost trapped, bound.

  His hands did a slow slide from her waist over her rib cage and up, just cupping her breasts, as if feeling their weight. She threw her head back and stared up at him, begging him with her eyes to do more, to touch more, to make her . . . feel.

  And then his thumbs brushed her nipples, and she jerked at the shock of pleasure that centered between her thighs. She whispered his name, even as he began to stroke her more rhythmically through the silk, rubbing and plucking until she was mindless with urgency.