Page 46 of The Duke of a Thousand Desires

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The stucco houseon North Audley Street had been built a century ago. It consisted of two properties merged into one fashionable residence in the Greek-Revival style. The duke’s London staff occupied the basement. A carriage house adjoined a large stables. Hazy moonlight glinted off an iron balcony and the white Portland stone portico of the façade.

It was a place of understated resplendence that dominated the street. Jane had driven Ravenna past the house a week ago in the daylight, claiming, “It is difficult for a lady to assume her position in such an imposing dwelling.”

And with such an imposing man, Ravenna had silently mused, unable at the time to imagine herself as Simon’s wife.

But now she was here. She wasn’t Ravenna, the bothersome younger sister, or the undesired fiancée of an ill-bred baronet. She was Her Grace the Duchess of Rochecliffe. She was astonished by her change in fortune. And she resolved to make the best of it, to honor and understand the man she had married, even if obeisance did not come to her naturally.

They alit from the carriage in the stables at the back of the house. She heard the murmured greetings of the duke’s groomsman, the whinnying of horses.

Simon gripped her firmly by the hand and guided her through a candlelit passageway into the main hallway of the house.

“Now we’re like a pair of thieves, Simon.”

She knocked her arm against a pedestal. Simon tsked gently and turned her in the opposite direction. She could make out the defined angles of his face in the dark and, Hades take him, the shadow of an unfathomable smile. Her breathing deepened.

“When am I going to meet the servants?” she asked, conscious of the silence, of how alone they were. Of, despite everything, how right this moment was.

“Tomorrow,” he said. “I thought you would appreciate some privacy. We’re almost to the bottom of the stairs. Stay to the left.”

“This hall is longer than a highway,” she said, her voice echoing to the cut-glass chandelier above the staircase. The faintest sound quickened her heart. Even the tap of Simon’s boot heels on the tile heightened her anticipation.

He released her hand. “My grandfather was prone to extravagance,” he said. “As most noblemen tend to be.”

She moved cautiously around a painting on an easel. “Aren’t you coming?”

“You wouldn’t prefer a few moments by yourself?”

“Not if I’m going to walk into walls. Simon, what is the matter? What have I missed or misunderstood?”

Obviously there were servants somewhere in the house because a door scraped open above. A wall sconce on the first landing glowed down faintly on Simon’s unmoving figure. Portraits in gilded frames hung on the wall behind him. She recognized a Rembrandt. Simon looked austere, and yet she detected another hint of sinful heat in his eyes.

“Simon?” she attempted again. “What has come over you?”

He shook his head as if deep in thought. “I cannot forget that you aren’t my wife of your own free will. It seems uncouth that I come to your bed without an invitation. I won’t even touch you in an intimate manner if that is your wish.”

Her heart thumped in her ears. “Never?”

One large shoulder lifted. “I shall hold your parasol … take you by the arm if you’re about to fall off the pavement. I might steal a kiss from time to time. Carry you over a rain puddle to be chivalrous. That sort of thing. But this is an arrangement. Isn’t it?”

“So I’m to be an abandoned bride?” she asked, her lips firming in exasperation.

“Good gracious, no. I’ll sleep in the adjoining room in case you need me during the night. Give me a shout. I know you have the voice for it.”

“You are provoking me. You played the rogue before our wedding.”

“I thought I was being respectful.” He balanced his elbow on the balustrade. “Is there anything I can do before you retire? Have Cook prepare a special dish? A cordial? Stoke the bedroom fire?

Kiss me. Hold me. Take me. Release me from this suspense before I sink to my knees.“I don’t want a fire or a drink. I am practically smoldering in this heavy dress and I drank quite a bit before I drowned that plate of crabs in champagne.”

“Have I neglected anything?” he asked artlessly.

Only me.

What did he expect her to say? For all she knew she had failed to pass a secret test to please him. For all she knew he had decided at the last instant that theirs would be a marriage in name only. Or, more likely, he was doing his monstrous best to tease her, a ploy he had employed in their youth. Girl, boy. Bride, groom. But man and wife?

Should she call him out? “On second thought, I’d like a few fashion magazines to read in bed.”