Page 37 of The Duke’s Unwilling Bride

She was so many things to me before, but not a whore. However, all that will change. I will mold her, train her, make her into my perfect little wench, my willing vessel in which I plan to pour out all of my ire. My cock lurches at that thought, derailing my thoughts for a moment as I reach down and stroke myself through the buckskin. Soon, it will be her innocent little hands fluttering up and down my shaft, milking the pleasure out of me as I use her body to sate my needs.

Turning, determined to finalize everything in a timely manner so I may sweep my unwilling bride off to her new home, I almost miss the scrap of cloth on the floor next to my prized books. I hunch down, pulling it out from its hiding place and examine it. To my memory, this looks nothing like what Teresa wore that night.

I bring it to my nose, inhaling deeply. There, so faint I nearly can’t catch it, is the scent akin to oil lamps. I draw in another breath, committing this scent to memory. Perhaps she’s not lying after all. Not about this, at least. But with that thought comes something far more sinister on its heels. If not her, then who?

Who entered my house and attempted to assault my wife? I pocket the scrap, determined to give it more thought as I head back to my study. Before we can leave, I must settle the debts of the wedding and see to other accounts. I don’t relish the idea of seeing just how much was spent, but if I don’t face it now, it will just be waiting for me when I return. Best to get it over with.

On my desk lay several sheets of paper—some household bills, other things to do with the estate. Once I dispose of them, I turn my eyes to the stack off to the side… The wedding expenses. I flip through them, calculating things in my mind as the figures pop out at me.

Any sympathy I had for my new bride goes right out the window, as the rough estimate puts her at almost double the budget I gave her. Anger sizzles through my veins as I pull out a scratch piece of paper and write all the totals for me to add up. Nearly two and a half times what I told her.

Teeth grit, I finish off the debts, knowing I won’t be able to dispute them. Just because I gave her a budget doesn’t mean I’m not on the hook for her purchases. Once more, I go through each page, taking in every single purchase. There’s no way these are correct. They seem far too much.

But the sheet that gets me the angriest is the one from the modiste. New dresses I did not authorize. The other debts in regard to her clothes had already been settled, which means these are new. How dare she try to get more clothing, sneaking it in between all these purchases as if I wouldn’t notice?

Signing off on the rest, I storm out of the room and take the stairs two at a time, my fury growing with each step closer to her new bedchamber. Without even bothering to knock, I throw the door open, startling both her and the maid helping her undress.

The wedding dress is already off and over on a nearby chair. Her long stays appear to be unlaced, but still hang on her body. It doesn’t matter what an enticing picture she paints, her body being in such a disheveled state of undress. She will pay for this betrayal.

“Leave us.”

The maid drops into a curtsy. “Yes, Your Grace,” she mutters before skittering off.

Teresa has the audacity to blink up at me, as if she has no clue why I’m here and in such a state. In fact, all I want to do at this moment is turn her over and thrash her backside. But no discipline will ever come without a lecture from me. And so, I bide my time, placing the bill on the bed before loosening my cravat.

“Have you come to assist me with the rest of my clothes?” A flicker of heat seems to spark in her eyes, coupled with an uneasy bunching of her shoulders. The little minx seems to want to play coy and attempt to draw my attention to more carnal actions, but it will not deter me. “Though truth be told, I am able to take care of myself at this point.” Her voice is strained and a touch ill at ease.

“Tell me, my blushing bride,” I grind out, stepping closer, removing my jacket and tossing it onto her wedding dress. “Did I not give you a budget for the wedding?”

She rolls her eyes at me and turns to the mirror, examining her face for a moment. “Is that what this intrusion is about? Money? At this point, you are becoming quite the bore, dear husband.” She pauses as she says that last word, as if the title is somewhat distasteful to her. “Every time you come to see me, it’s about money. Is there not some other topic of conversation you wish to strike up with me? I would ask your thoughts on philosophical matters, but as you yourself have said, your books are all for show. Much like the flashy clothes you wear.”

Anger rolls through me as I storm over to her, gripping her arm to turn her away from that blasted mirror and onto me. “You will give me the respect I’m due.”

Her lips thin as she glances down at my hand coiled around her upper arm, then back up at me. “I will be more than obliging, but only the moment you show me some respect in return.”

My vision goes white for a moment, and I step away, unable to have my hands on her as rage pulses through my body like a writhing snake. I will not harm her. I will not harm her. The phrase trips about my brain like a mantra, a prayer almost as I pace the floor, refusing to allow my emotions to get the best of me.

Picking up the bill, I storm back over to her and wave it about in her face. “Would you care to explain this to me?”

She plucks it out of my hand and looks over it, a bored expression on her face. “It seems as if it’s figures, a bill for clothes. And?”

“And? That’s all you have to say? And?” I rip it out of her grasp and bring it back to me, checking to see if I’m overlooking anything. “What is your response to this?”

Teresa plants her hands on her hips. “What would you like my response to be? It seems as if you’ve come into this room with an agenda. If it’s not to help me prepare for our arduous journey, then I request you leave and bring the maid back in.”

“Do not, madam, presume to order me around as if I’m nothing more than your servant. My, how you’ve seemed to settle into your new role as duchess with such aplomb. I applaud you for your conniving skills at lifting yourself to such a title.”

“I didn’t ask for this,” she yells back, every line in her face strained. “I never asked nor wanted to be a duchess. All I wanted to do was live my life in blessed spinsterhood. Not this. Not with you.”

Hurt spikes through my heart for a moment, edging out the fury I feel at both her actions as well as her current behavior. To be able to both lie and hurl accusations like this… It makes me wonder how long she’s practiced, and if she had a teacher. Her acting skills are far too good for her to just pick them up.

“You claim that, and yet, here we are.”

“Here we are,” she counters back, crossing her arms to keep her stays from completely falling to the floor.

“Will you at least answer to the bill from the modiste? I didn’t have a hope you’d keep the budget with the wedding. But to go behind my back and buy more clothes? Are not the ones I’ve already purchased for you enough? Were you just too frightened to ask me directly?”

Her eyes narrow into slits. “You do not frighten me, Your Grace.”