by Gill, Tamara
Sotherton was, in Holly's opinion, breathtakingly wonderful.
"Is your mother at home?" she asked, hoping another woman may be present, a welcome reprieve when always surrounded by men.
"Unfortunately, my mother passed several years ago. She was ill for quite some time before she succumbed. I think you would have liked her. She was bold and strong and capable, just as you are."
Holly smiled at the compliment, although at this very time, with her legs and back aching, her body reeking of sweat and two days of dirt, she didn't feel very strong and capable at all. She felt weak and tired, fatigued both mentally and physically, and she stank.
"I feel as though I could sleep for days," she admitted, resting her head against Drew's back. A little time later, he pulled the horse up before the house. A young stable lad ran out, taking the horse and wishing Lord Balhannah a good afternoon.
Drew reached behind and helped her alight, jumping down himself and handing the reins off to the servant. "Come, I shall introduce you to my father. Do not be nervous, he will welcome you, I'm sure."
The front doors opened, and the duke stood on the threshold. Holly smiled and soon learned that it was pointless to try to win the older man's praise. With hands-on-hips and a fierce scowl on his aged forehead, he pinned his son to the spot. "Where have you been, boy? You had better not tell me any lies, for I have had your fiancée’s father here, berating me over your disappearance upon their arrival."
Drew was betrothed? Holly remembered to shut her mouth before she turned to pin Drew with one of her own glowers. "You're engaged?"
Drew fought not to roll his eyes. His father was beyond vexing to say such a thing, and in front of a stranger. A guest no less. "I am not engaged, and father, I left you a note as to where I was traveling. You knew very well where I was."
The duke mumbled something under his breath, and Drew pulled Holly forward. Her hand felt small and delicate in his. She did not shy away from his touch. Indeed, she held on to him with a firm grasp, even though she too was not sure of his romantic position.
"Come inside, we shall speak further. There is someone that I wish for you to meet."
For the first time, the duke's attention moved to Holly, and a contemplative light entered his eyes. He turned about, striding back into the house. Drew followed his father into his study, closing the door to ensure privacy.
"Father," he said, helping Holly to sit in a chair across from his sire's desk. "This is Holly Devereux, my wife. I'm married, congratulate me."
His father's mouth opened and closed several times, his eyes wide in shock before he sputtered his reply. "You're what? Whatever shall I say to my old school friend, Mr. Landers?"
"I do not think Mr. Landers will be bothering you going forward. I know for certain that his daughter loved another and would be right at this very moment eloping with him. It was one of the reasons I left. I had already married, you see, and I knew from a letter I received from Miss Landers that she did not wish to marry me, so I could not stay. I hope you're not angry."
"My being angry or not will depend on who you married, boy and when. You cannot in the few days that you've been missing have traveled to Gretna and back."
Drew chuckled, seating himself beside Holly and taking her hand. "I married Holly some weeks ago before I returned from London. It was a private and small ceremony utilizing a special license. We did not tell anyone of our nuptials since we did not wish for gossip. I hope you understand."
His father leaned back in his chair, steepling his fingers. His attention snapped to Holly, and the hard edges and angles of his face softened a little. A good sign in Drew's estimation. "What is your name, and who is your family, my dear? I hope my son has been treating you well. From the looks of both your attire, you're far from presentable."
"I'm Holly Devereux, as Drew mentioned, and a distant cousin to Lady Mary, Lord Bainbridge's eldest daughter. We had a little trouble with my carriage, you see, on our travels here. We were set upon by bandits, and they stole everything except my horse. I suppose they thought that we could at least keep him if nothing else."
"Oh, you poor dears." His father stood, going over to the decanter of brandy and pouring them both a glass. He came back to them quickly, handing them their drinks. "You must be traumatized by what you've suffered."
Drew stood, patting his father on the shoulder, calming him. "We're fine, father, merely tired and unpardonably dirty. A good night's rest and some food will set us back to rights, I'm sure."
"I shall have a bath sent up to your room. You shall have my suite, my boy. Now that you're married and have a wife, I do not need the ducal apartments." His father bustled over to the fireplace and rang for a servant.
Their butler, Thomas, entered, bowing. "Your Grace?"
"Ah, Thomas, have the maids clean out the ducal apartments and move my son into the room post-haste. He's married and should therefore have that suite of rooms. I shall move into the east wing. It has better light in any case and the duchess's favorite part of the house. I shall be most pleased there."
"Very good, Your Grace. We shall do so immediately."
"You do not have to move out of your room," Holly said, throwing Drew a beseeching look. "Tell him, Drew, that he does not need to decamp on our behalf."
"Of course, I do, my dear. You're going to be the future Duchess of Sotherton, and as such, the rooms are yours. You may decorate them as you see fit when you're recovered from your trying few days."
Drew smiled at Holly. He himself feeling the pinch of guilt for allowing his father to believe they were married and happy. That Holly was going to stay at Sotherton for the rest of her life. His father would be devastated to find out it was all a ruse, but there was little for it. She had saved his life, and he would save hers in return. A gentleman never allowed a woman to succumb to a bully, a murderer like her uncle.
When his father knew of her truth, of who she really was, he would forgive him. And perhaps, one day in the distant future, they could travel to Atharia and visit Holly and her family. The start of a lifelong friendship.
"That is very generous of you, Father," Drew said, sitting beside Holly again. "There is also something else we would ask of you."
His father rejoined them, the pleasure on his features over his son's supposed marriage made Drew feel worse than he already did about lying to him. No matter that it was for the best, the news that they were not would hurt him. "Of course, anything, son. With such good news that I have received today, I would deny you nothing."
Oh, dear Lord, it could not be any worse.
"We need the knowledge that Holly and I are here at Sotherton to remain unknown by our family and friends. As I explained, I married Holly several weeks ago, and we have not had much time alone since then. I do not wish for the ton and the gossiping matrons of the ton to hear of our news and speak of nothing else. They can have this tidbit of gossip next Season, not this one."
His father frowned, taking in them both. "If that is what you wish, I shall not write to your mother's sister in town. But by doing so, I shall leave it up to you to tell her you married without her knowledge or attendance. That is one battle I do not wish to face."
Drew chuckled. "I shall tell Aunt Rosemary, of course." He reached over to Holly and took her hand, startled to find it chilled. "I think some hot soaking baths are in order, Father. We're quite tired."
"Of course, how selfish of me to keep you both so long when you require rest. Settle yourselves before the fire, and I shall have the baths drawn for you both. You may use guest suites while the ducal room is cleaned and cleared."
"Thank you, Father."
The duke left them then, heading into the foyer and yelling out for Thomas. Drew helped Holly over to the fire, the heat a welcome reprieve from the previous evening when it had been quite chill, even in the warmer months.
"So, I am to sleep in the same bed as you, Drew? That is not what we agreed," Holly said, her mouth in a displeased line.
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br /> Drew did not like that she was mad at him, but what else was left for to him to say? A married couple who did not share the same room would look odd. "Of course not. There is a daybed in the ducal suite. I shall sleep there. There will be talk if we do not, and that is the last thing that you need."
"Very well, I shall acquiesce in this case, but you should know that I'm not in any way in approval of this."
"I know you are not. I promise you are safe with me, Your Highness." Reputation and life combined.
Chapter 9
With one last glance at Drew, she turned to face the fire, watching as the flames licked the wood to charred ash. How she longed for a bath, to wash the grime and remnants of travel off her skin. To soothe her aching bones and rest knowing that for the moment, she was safe. Tomorrow she would write to Marco in London and have him come to her. With no sign of Niccolo, that was the only option open to her.
The door opened, and a maid bobbed a quick curtsy. "My lord and lady, your baths are ready. If you would follow me, please."
Drew stood, holding out his arm for her to take. Without thought, she took it. She truly wondered if she would make it up the stairs, so weary were her legs.
"A bath will soon set you to rights, and you'll be able to plan and move forward with your life," he whispered, his words grazing her ear and eliciting a shiver across her skin. His very nearness did odd things to her, things that she'd never experienced before.
Not that she had much experience with men. Certainly, no one was able to court her being the crown princess to the Atharia throne. Her marriage would be, in a sense, picked by what was best for the country, not so much her heart.
If she were to choose a husband for herself, she could imagine picking someone like Drew. He was kind and caring, two traits most important to her, and also as an added premium, extremely handsome. She cast her eyes over his profile. His face was what made hearts and fans flutter in society, no doubt. Holly smiled a little, unable to hide the fact she was happy she must feign being married to the gentleman. She would enjoy her few weeks being his wife, in name only. To taste a life that was otherwise closed to her. A normal life, as a countryman's spouse.
"I will start first thing in the morning with my letters." They came to the first-floor landing and followed the maid along a wide, long corridor. Multiple doors opened on either side of the passage, private rooms or parlors, Holly did not know. They came partway up the aisle, and the maid turned, gesturing to a room. "We've assigned Jane to you, my lady. She will be your lady’s maid and can help you bathe if you please."
"Thank you." Reluctantly, Holly let go of Drew's arm, heading into the room with green silk wallpaper and dark mahogany furniture. It was an impressive guest suite and made her wonder what the ducal rooms looked like.
The door closed behind her, but she did not care. All that her mind could focus on was the steaming, deep bath that had been brought up and set before the fire.
The maid dipped into a curtsy, smiling. "I'm Jane, my lady. Would you like me to help you with your gown?"
"Yes, thank you," she said, coming closer to the bath and the heat of the fire. Holly turned, and Jane made short work of the hooks and eyes at the back of her gown, letting her patterned muslin dress to fall to the floor. Her petticoat and stays were next, followed by her chemise, silk stockings, and flat leather pumps. All were ruined and beyond cleaning or repair.
Holly clasped the tub, stepping into the hot water, and a shiver stole up her spine. Warmth enclosed her as she sank down into the tub, a sigh of delight escaping her as the water lathed at her chilled, dirty skin.
"Would you like me to wash your hair now, my lady, or leave it until after I take these clothes down to the laundry?"
"After, thank you," she said, sinking into the water up to her chin, the warmth of the fire sprinkling a warm golden light about the room. How different tonight would be from the previous. To sleep in a bed, warm under a mountain of blankets, was something to look forward to after the trying few days.
A short time later, Jane returned, a handful of gowns and silk nightgowns folded over her arm. Holly turned to stare at the dresses. "Where did you get those from?" she asked, baffled.
"We had guests last week, my lady and the daughter of His Grace’s guest, Miss Myrtle Landers, left these gowns behind. His Grace has given me leave to let you use them as it is unlikely that Miss Landers will be back to collect them."
Holly frowned. "Why would she not wish to have her dresses returned?" She picked up the soap and started to wash her arms, lathering her skin until a white, frothy foam covered her arms and hands.
"She eloped with a gentleman who was not her equal, and so we shall probably not see her again," the maid said, cringing a little at the information.
"Well, that is indeed a reply I did not think you would give. Why was Miss Landers here?" she asked, curious about the woman.
Jane shifted on her feet, laying the silk undergarments on the bed. "His Grace, I believe, wished for Lord Balhannah to marry Miss Landers, but of course, that was before he knew of you, my lady."
Hmm. What an interesting tidbit of gossip. "Lord Balhannah did not know Miss Landers? Or were they well-acquainted?"
"Oh no, his lordship knew Miss Landers well. They spent much of their childhood here, I've been told. The duke and Miss Lander's father were close friends. It is believed that Miss Landers ran off and eloped. In her father's haste to follow his daughter, some of Miss Lander's things were left behind. I hope you do not mind wearing her gowns."
"Not at all," Holly assured the maid. The young woman in a neat black-and-white dress fussed about the room, placing more firewood on the fire and washing Holly’s hair before leaving to give her more time alone.
Holly leaned back in the bath, closing her eyes. It was so very peaceful here, and lovely, the gardens were almost as beautiful as her own, or at least those that she'd seen on her arrival were.
Tomorrow, after she had written to Marco, she would ask Drew to take her about the grounds and down to the beach. If she had to stay here for several weeks, she needed to become acquainted with the lay of the land, see where she could hide if the worst happened here, or where she could flee if need be.
A tickle of movement skittered across her arm, and Holly stilled, opening her eyes to see a large, gray spider sitting on her flesh. Without heed, she screamed and stood, flicking the little beasty off across the room.
Footsteps sounded outside in the corridor before Drew burst into the room, a drying cloth about his waist and nothing else. She squealed, dipping back into the bath and covering herself with the water as best she could.
Drew ignored her nakedness and came up beside the bath, looking about the room. "What is it, Holly? Is there someone here?"
Her mouth dried as she glanced up at his back, still dripping with water from his bath. He had a lovely back, strong and straight, a small freckle just above the towel. She licked her lips. What would his skin feel like along his spine? Was it smooth and supple as it appeared? He was sunkissed there, not a pasty white like so many Englishmen, more in tune with her own people who spent a great deal of time outdoors.
"There is no one here, Drew. A spider landed on my arm, and I panicked. I've never been very fond of them."
He turned then, and his eyes widened before he spun back around, giving her his back. "Forgive me, Your Highness. I did not mean to look."
If words could sound like wincing, then Drew's most certainly did. She smiled at his unease, happy at least to be back in the bath where the soapy water gave her some means of modesty. "Have my maid come back and attend me and all shall be well. Thank you for coming to rescue me though. You were very quick."
He chuckled, the sound self-deprecating. "You're very welcome. I shall see you in our rooms shortly."
Holly stayed in the bath until her maid came back and helped her out to dress. She changed into a silk shift and dressing gown that Miss Landers had left behind with little option. It was fi
rm about her breasts, but otherwise fit her well. She and Miss Landers were of similar stature it would seem.
"There, my lady, you look beautiful." The maid smiled at Holly and walked to the door, opening it. "Shall I show you to the ducal apartments?"
Nerves skittered within her belly, and she clasped her stomach, the thought of being alone with Drew, to be sleeping in the same room, not because of circumstance or safety, but because of the charade they were playing, made it all the more concerning.
"Yes, thank you," she said, in a voice that was much more steady than her knees felt. "I'm ready to retire."
Drew paced the ducal rooms, waiting for Holly to arrive. Holy damnation, he had seen her naked and blast it all to hell if she wasn't as perfect as he thought she would be. A spider! A spider of all things had caused her to show the first crack in her armor, and blast and damn it if it didn't make her the most adorable being he’d ever beheld.
He went to the decanter of brandy his father kept in his old rooms and poured himself a glass. He would need all the fortification he could get after having the vision of her burned to the backs of his eyelids.
The sweep of her ass, the long-Meg legs that sat beneath that toned, rounded flesh. Her slim waist he'd wanted to sweep against his and revel in the feel of her skin. Drew swallowed, taking a calming breath. But it was her breasts that had undid him, neither large nor small, they were a lovely handful, and fell against her chest like teardrops.
He would never forget how perfect and sweet she looked, how her eyes were bright and large from fright, how she had not cared a morsel that he'd seen her naked…until she did.
Drew shook his head and went and sat on the daybed, running his hands through his hair. He needed to get a grip. She was not some heiress or debutante whom he'd saved from a rogue, much like himself, but a crown princess. A future queen who was well beyond his reach.