Page 81 of To Ensnare a Duke

Once her body stills, I pull out and head back to the basin. I refuse to say another word as I clean up and fasten my breeches shut. Augusta also remains silent as I help her put her clothes back on and take her out of the club. For a pair who have done things so intimate it would scandalize anyone to hear of it, the gulf between us only grows wider.

I had hoped our wedding night would bring us all the closer together, making us enmeshed in a way that only poets dare speak of, but now, I fear as if I will never have that with her. Tonight, she showed me what was most important, and it wasn't us or our future.

Keeping a tight grip on her arm, I glance about, my eyes peering into the darkness for any threat real or imagined. She may not give a damn about her life, but I still do. As much as marrying her hurts, I still wish to see her walk down the aisle.

She doesn't even say goodnight to me as she slips into her secret entrance. Pausing by the hidden door, I rest my head against the worn wood. What is to become of us?

CHAPTER 36

AUGUSTA

Sunlight streams into the window, far more cheerful than my dour mood will allow. Scowling, I turn over onto my side only to have my muscles scream at me in protest. I didn't expect to be so sore, yet as I lie there, testing my limbs, I can't help the tendril of arousal curling in my stomach at the discomfort.

What is wrong with me? I shouldn't like the pain so much. Granted, after talking with the other wives last night, it seems as if I'm not in the minority. Perhaps I'm not bound for Bedlam as I feared? The others seem so well adjusted, so happy.

Perhaps that's where my neurosis lies. I cannot find joy in my affliction as they do. Forcing myself out of the bed, I walk over to the mirror and examine my bottom. For all that the paddle hurt, I only see a faint smattering of marks. If anyone else were to see, they might think it was from my injury 'falling to the floor' from earlier.

Groaning, I drop the edge of my night rail and plop my head into my hands. Portswell is ever so wroth with me. I can feel it. I wish I could have resisted the urge but feeling his fingers sliding into me felt so divine. I couldn't have stopped even if I wanted to.

It's so maddening to be beholden to my urges like this. And I know, deep down, I've wounded the man I'm set to marry. It's as if my life continues to spiral out of control and there's nothing I can do to stop it.

"Glad to see you well, Miss."

I turn to face my lady's maid, embarrassment flooding my body. "Yes. Well as can be expected."

"I trust the others made it home safely as well?"

Slumping forward, I shake my head. "It was far later than planned. Is everyone aware?"

"I devised a story for you. It wasn't easy, but no one is the wiser." She puts her hands on my shoulders and peers deep into my eyes. "If you were in trouble, you'd tell me. Right? All is well with you? Truly?"

A soft smile eases up my lips as I lay my hand on hers. "All is well. Today is a happy day. Let us celebrate."

The last thing I want to do is celebrate, but I put on a happy face for the servants as they bustle in and out, bringing in hot water and my clothes. Sinking down into the warm tub feels divine, but I don't enjoy it. Guilt gnaws at my insides as I cleanse my body, preparing myself for a trip down the aisle.

I should be happy. I should be dancing up a storm or singing my joy so loudly it rattles the rafters. Portswell and I had all the makings of a true love match, but now I don't know where I stand. Will he even be there waiting for me at the end of the aisle?

The rest of the morning goes by in a blur. I'm pinched, prodded, made up, and transformed into a vision in my lovely green gown. A hum of excitement travels through the maids as my aunt hobbles into the room with a box in her hand.

"The Duke of Portswell has sent a gift over to you in celebration of your nuptials. I've not peeked out of respect for you, but the box seems very particular."

I grab the slim, long box from her fingers, knowing instantly that it must be a necklace of some sort. Does this mean he's forgiven me? It takes a bit of work to pry the lid off releasing a small note that flutters down. I snatch it up, my lips curving into a smile as I hold it close to my chest.

Shuffling over to my desk, I sit down and skim the contents, my heart sinking with every word.

My Dearest Minx,

I had already purchased this in anticipation of a rather raucous wedding night. Though it appears to be an innocuous necklace, it holds secrets that I was planning to reveal to you after I whisked you away for our honeymoon. Perhaps it will still look lovely around your neck though the true use will not be brought into effect.

It felt dishonorable to deny you the gift, and so I hope it pleases you. It is my wish for you to wear it with your wedding gown, but I do not expect for you to actually obey me. Do whatever you wish with it as it now belongs to you.

Respectably,

Benedict Fortescue,

Duke of Portswell

Tears slip down my nose to splatter against the parchment. Concerned, my aunt rushes over, but I hold the letter close to me where she cannot see.