Page 32 of The Duke’s Unwilling Bride

Anger burns in my gut as I watch the satisfied smirk crawl up her lips. She’s only been here a handful of days, and yet nothing is how it was. At this hour, my mother should be dressed and ready to receive visitors, not prowling about like some young servant with nary a care for her appearance.

“I suppose you find this humorous? To turn my home upside down without nary a care?”

Gracing me with a low curtsy, she looks up at me from her place of supplication, a mischievous glint in her eyes. “Is it not soon to be our home? I just wanted to make things more comfortable. I never forced your mother to dress as such, but seeing as neither of us has enough free time for others to call, what point is it that we make ourselves up for nothing? Now, if you will excuse me. I must confer with her on the plans.”

I reach out and snag her arm, hauling her to me. Her body presses into mine for just a moment, but the sensation brands me, making my brain stop for a few precious moments. “If you are determined to make changes around here, acting as the new duchess, then I suppose you should have a ring to match that title.”

Time stops as she looks up at me, her eyes wide with both wonder and suspicion. “And what are the terms and stipulations that accompany such a gift?”

Chuckling, I pull the ring out and slide it onto her finger, pausing to compare it to her eyes for a moment. “All I ask is that it’s still on your finger when it comes time to exchange vows. You are not to sell it. All your debts are now paid. I still have money enough to indulge you as I see fit. But you are not to sell this ring and pocket the money, or worse, spend it on something else.”

“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean, Your Grace,” she murmurs, her lashes lowered as she stares at the ring. “But I appreciate the gift and will wear it with pride.” With one final curtsy, she sets off to the library.

She’s such a cunning little minx. If I didn’t know any better, I would have almost believed that little theatrical show she just put on. She’s far too demure, too acquiescing. The coy behavior would, no doubt, fool someone else, but I’ve seen the fire she possesses, and this is nothing like that. As it is, now that she’s soon to be under my full mastery, I’ll be able to see just what she spends her money on and put a stop to her out-of-control ways before it becomes a problem.

Deep in my heart, I wish it didn’t have to be like this. That we could just be congenial and not always on the defensive. Sighing, I head to my study, a place of solitude in this madness. When I did decide to marry, I wanted it to be because of love and not obligation. My parents were a rare love match, and foolishly, I thought I could have the same. But it seems as if fate has other plans.

CHAPTER 16

Teresa

An ache throbs in the back of my head as I force my fingers to stay still by my side. Once more, I’m dressed up, pinned into a gown far fancier than the more comfortable day dress I was loath to remove. Again, I am forced to sit still as the maid twirls my hair around a hot iron before pinning it up so that the curls themselves are not to be admired. Rather foolish in my eyes.

And so I sit there, letting my mind split off as I endure this torture. Names of flowers flit through my head, and I run through both their common and Latin names. It calms me somehow, allowing me to center myself. But all too soon, the maid is done, and it’s time for me to leave.

I pace the halls, not wanting to give in to the demands of a tyrant. Even though my mind screams at me that I cannot run forever, I try to delay the inevitable as long as I can. But I know the more I stall, the more Foxford will probably be mad at me.

Sigh heavy on my lips, I make my way to the meeting place. Raucous laughter spills out of the drawing room, sizzling against my already flayed nerves. Since it’s the night before I’m forcibly tied to a man I do not love nor want, I was hoping to spend the last bit of solitude I could in the library.

But it seems as if yet another wish of mine is not to be granted. More than likely, his friends want to see what type of woman could set a trap so perfectly to capture one such as him. It doesn’t matter that I’ve told everyone who would listen. I was not to blame. The wedding is continuing despite my protestations.

Can’t the duke see by now that if I wanted to trap him, I wouldn’t be trying so hard to get away? I should be reveling in my conquest and not finding ways to escape. But it doesn’t matter. Every time I open my mouth, his stern frown scatters my thoughts like chaff along the breeze.

This time, however, it will be different. I will do whatever I can to make him see reason. However, once the doors open, revealing far more men and women than I expect, all thoughts of escape leave me. I’m far more curious than anything, especially since Foxford hasn’t mentioned having any friends.

The women look over at me, their eyes wide and cheeks pink. Excitement snaps in the air, as if they’ve been waiting to see me, but not for nefarious reasons. At least the smiles they throw my way seem to indicate as such. However, since I’ve never been one to really prattle on with those of the same sex, I cannot be too sure.

“Ahh. And my bride-to-be.” Foxford slants his glance over to me, his face neutral for once.

He looks upon me as if I mean nothing to him, which should fill me with elation that it’s not outwardly hostile, but I’d still prefer at least some modicum of tenderness. Perhaps that’s just too much to ask with a relationship as tumultuous as ours. Neutrality is far more agreeable.

However, in complete opposition, the women sitting about, their chattering stopping the moment I’m announced, look excited and more than welcoming. The men, however, are their contrary in every way. Though none of them seem to harbor any outright aggression, there’s still a chill in the air as they turn their angry eyes to me. More than likely, they’re upset on Foxford’s behalf and probably more than just a touch nervous about what this means for their own bridal future.

What they fail to understand is this was never my intent in the first place, and the very notion of encouraging any other ladies to follow in my footsteps is the furthest thing from my mind. I’m sure there’s no way to convince them of that, especially not when these other women stare at me as if I’m some sort of goddess. My stomach knots as I walk further into the room, neither needing nor wanting this type of attention.

“It seems as if my friends plan to steal me away for a celebration of our upcoming nuptials. I expect you to behave yourself with these women and not do anything that will bring shame to your future title.” Though his voice is low enough that it isn’t likely anyone can hear him, it still rings about in my ears as if he’s shouting it.

“And what do you plan to do for your celebration? I hope your name can withstand such frivolity.”

His lips thin for a moment. “And if I were to say that they plan on whisking me away to a brothel, so I might spend my last unattached night happily between a woman’s thighs as she gives me pleasure?”

My heart squeezes painfully in my chest at his threat. “And that is how you wish to spend tonight? In the arms of a woman who will never give you love?”

“Love? And what, pray tell, do you know of the word? Besides, ours is not a love match. We are forced into this together. Surely you cannot deny me one final night of pleasure.”

There’s a twinkle in his eyes as he speaks, almost as if he’s in on some farce I'm not aware of, but I’m unable to be certain. Even if this is in jest, I feel that it’s in poor taste. However, he’s not the only one equipped with threats.

“Very well, Your Grace. If it is your wish to while away these last hours with a strange woman, I suppose I’ll have to resign myself to regaling these fresh, innocent faces on just how our marriage came to be. And if that’s not scintillating enough conversation, I’m sure they’d enjoy knowing about the secret room you keep in this very house.”