My Dark Duke (17 page)

‘I realise that Trent's riches put the king's to shame, but still, these pieces are incredible,' breathed the duchess, looking a trifle envious at Alethea's gift. ‘Come, Martha, take the earrings. I will put the necklace on.'

As Martha fastened on the earrings and her mother draped the heavy necklace on her neck, Alethea opened the small piece of paper that had been pinned to the lid of the box.

‘What does the note say?'

Startled, Alethea hastily folded it to hide the contents from her mother's eyes. She didn't need to look at it further in any case. The duke's distinctively bold penmanship was burnt into her mind's eye. ‘Oh, he hopes that I will like his gift.'

‘Of course you do. These are magnificent.' The duchess took a few steps back. ‘There. Now you look as the Duchess of Trent should.'

Alethea wanted to protest that the worth of the gems was of little importance to her. But her mother would not have understood how much the note meant to Alethea – the first she had received from James. He had stated that the diamonds could not compare to her beauty. She held the words in her heart, feeling the tight ball of anxiety within her begin to abate.

‘My dear, I need to speak to you about certain matters. Martha, leave us, please.'

The younger woman watched her maid leave the room, but not before Martha had given her charge a smile of encouragement. Alethea had hoped that the subject of her forthcoming wedding night had somehow slipped her mother's mind. Alas, it seemed it was not so. Taking a deep breath, she steeled her spine, preparing herself for possibly one of the most embarrassing conversations she would have in her life.

Her mother looked directly into her eyes. ‘Alethea, today you will become a wife. You will be making a vow to obey your husband and he will expect you to submit to his wishes. I know this will be difficult for you and I take some blame for this. I should not have allowed your father to indulge your every wish. Because of this I predict that you will find married life difficult. If you wish your marriage to be at the very least bearable, I advise that you try your utmost to be biddable and do as your husband directs. Do you understand what I am saying?'

Alethea blinked. This was not what she had imagined. ‘Yes, I understand, Mother.'

The duchess's expression was serious. ‘You are extremely headstrong and oft-times impulsive, Alethea. Beware that you do not rouse the wrath of your husband. He will not be as understanding, or as forgiving, as your father.'

This was not the first time her mother had criticised her in this way and Alethea tried to keep the irritation from her voice. ‘Yes, Mother,' she ground out. Lady Alton nodded and turned to go. Alethea was about to sigh with relief when the duchess turned back, looking sternly at her daughter.

‘It is also my duty to inform you that your marriage will need to be consummated. To do so, your husband will place his staff within your womanhood. There will be some discomfort the first time, as he will need to breach your maidenhead. Do not be embarrassed. This will be accomplished under the cover of darkness. All you have to do is lie back and submit to him. This is your duty as a wife, so you must prepare yourself. Do not worry overmuch. After you provide him with an heir or two, the duke's attentions will likely cease. Do you have any questions for me?'

Alethea gaped at her mother. She wasn't sure if she wanted to laugh or cry. Perhaps both. It was quite possibly worse than any conversation she had ever imagined. If Ruth had not explained the mechanics of lovemaking, she would probably have had a hysterical fit and it would have been necessary to cart her off to Bedlam. His staff? Her womanhood? Good Lord, what was her mother thinking, to be explaining marital relations like this?

As it was, it was all she could do to make her vocal cords work. ‘No.' No questions. Never, ever.
Ever
. She would rather die than prolong the agony of this conversation.

The duchess appeared relieved. ‘Very well. We will be leaving in a few moments. I believe your father is waiting to speak to you,' Lady Alton informed her before departing the room.

Alethea smiled at her father when he entered. His eyes brightened at the sight of her and she felt her heart clench. ‘Papa.'

‘My dear, you look beautiful.' He gave her a proud smile and took her hands, holding them tightly.

‘Thank you, Papa. You look very dashing, too.' And he did, in his black velvet coat and claret brocade waistcoat, both adorned with gold embroidery.

‘Have I told you how very proud I am to have you as my daughter?' Charles Sinclair made no attempt to hide his emotions.

‘Many a time.' Alethea tried to smile as tears started to fill her eyes.

‘I know all this has been very trying, but after speaking to Mulgrave, I have come to believe that Trent is a good man, Alethea. You will do well as his duchess. And perhaps someday he will actually deserve to have such a wonderful wife.'

‘I hope you are right,' she replied.

‘Nevertheless, know that I am always available to you if you need me. If Trent mistreats you in any way, send word and I will come for you.' Her father regarded her solemnly. ‘Cast away any apprehension in your heart. You have spent your whole life in preparation for this day and you are well aware of what is required of you as Duchess of Trent. You will be outstanding indeed, and I expect nothing less. Be understanding and patient, be a pillar of support to your husband and give him good counsel. Heed his counsel in return. This is my advice to you.'

‘Thank you, Papa. I shall remember what you have told me.'

The Duke of Alton leaned forward and kissed his eldest daughter's forehead. ‘Come, we should make preparations to depart. This is not the occasion to be fashionably late.'

Alethea followed him, but paused at the door to her bedchamber. Turning around, she gave the room that she had occupied since she was a young girl a final look. Then, straightening her spine, she headed towards the stairs.

It was time. The duke was waiting.

Our Heroine Becomes the Duchess of Trent

‘Congratulations, my dearest Thea!'

Alethea turned her head to see her fair-haired childhood friend beside her, beaming from ear to ear. ‘Ruth!' They embraced tightly. ‘Where is Henry?'

‘He's been waylaid by your father and brother. How are you, dearest?'

Alethea smiled amid the hubbub that surrounded them outside St. George's. ‘I am very well. I have missed you so.'

‘I have missed you, too. I am so terribly sorry I have not been here when you needed me. Poor Mother was in such a state with Father's illness that I could not leave her.'

‘Please don't apologise for that; your parents needed you. And I am fine.'

Ruth looked at her worriedly. ‘Are you being truthful, Thea? I have been ever so worried since you wrote to me about what had happened at the inn, when you first refused Trent's offer.'

‘I spoke without thought or consideration, and I know that the words I uttered wounded Trent. But I have explained myself to him and he understands.' Alethea bit her lip. ‘I am very fortunate indeed to be married to such a man.'

Her friend squeezed her hand. ‘I think
he
is the fortunate one, to have someone like you consent to be his wife. Oh my dearest, I am so very happy for you. For both of you.'

‘Your Grace,' came a high-pitched voice behind Ruth. The first thing Alethea saw when she turned her head was a very large, extremely pink feather. In fact, it took a while to focus on the woman's face, so elaborate was the headpiece. ‘My most sincere congratulations on the happy occasion of your marriage to the duke.'

Alethea only just managed not to sneeze as one of the long feathers atop the hat waved past her nose when the woman stepped aside to make way for her companion.

‘Yes, yes, a thousand felicitations, Your Grace,' boomed a large man with an impressively long moustache. His slicked-back hair and brown outfit reminded the new duchess of a walrus.

Alethea smiled graciously. ‘Lord and Lady Gresham. Thank you for your well-wishes. I am glad you were able to attend the ceremony today.'

‘Being present to see Trent take a new bride – why, no-one would miss it. Not for anything!' replied the rotund lady, her double chin jiggling with excitement. ‘Isn't that right, Gresham?'

‘Quite, quite!' he rumbled his agreement loudly.

Ruth coughed delicately into her gloved hand and Alethea had to bite the inside of her cheek to stop herself from laughing. She should feel some outrage, she supposed, but she couldn't. The viscount and his wife were hardly the only ones who had attended the wedding out of curiosity. It wasn't every day, after all, that one could witness a certain Dark Duke marrying a previously elusive woman.

‘Lady Ruth, Gresham, Lady Gresham.' A very familiar baritone sounded next to her left ear. Startled, Alethea looked up to see her new husband. Yet again, the sight of him stole her breath away. He was dressed in a grey silk coat which emphasised the width of his shoulders and the leanness of his build. His waistcoat was made of the same material as her wedding gown, and similarly elaborate silver and blue embroidery also decorated the cuffs and edges of his coat. He looked every inch the Duke of Trent. And he was hers. She could scarcely believe it.

‘Congratulations, Your Grace,' said Ruth. James bowed politely in thanks, pleasing Alethea with his show of deference to her closest friend.

‘Trent!' Gresham interrupted loudly. ‘Congratulations, old fellow. Harriet and I were just saying to your lovely new wife that we wouldn't have missed the wedding for all the tea in China.' The viscount shook the duke's hand effusively.

‘Had a wager going, did you Gresham, that my betrothed would not turn up to the wedding?' James's voice was mild.

‘I . . . I . . . No, of course not,' spluttered Viscount Walrus, his face turning an alarming shade of red.

Alethea's eyebrows rose. Wager? What wager?

‘Calm yourself, Gresham. I saw the wager at Brooks's'. And I would have put in a wager myself, except that it would have been the height of bad taste. You see, I knew for a certainty that my lady wife would come.'

The Duchess of Trent gazed up wonderingly at her husband to find him looking at her, a faint smile on his mouth. But it was the heat in his eyes that made something tighten low in her abdomen.

‘A love match, how wonderful!' exclaimed Lady Gresham. ‘Why, you must have been frightfully pleased when Lady Thea – Her Grace – accepted your offer after turning down so many other suitors.'

The duke looked down at Alethea. ‘I am exceedingly pleased Her Grace decided to wait for me.' Alethea's breath caught in her throat, and she felt warmth fill her at his words. James continued. ‘Now, if you will excuse us, the carriage is waiting. Lady Ruth, I trust we will see you at the wedding breakfast?'

‘Of course, Your Grace,' replied Ruth. ‘We'll see you shortly, Thea.'

After exchanging farewells with Ruth and the Greshams, the Cavendishes made their way to their carriage, stopping now and then as well-wishers came forward to congratulate them. It took some time, but they were finally ensconced in their carriage, en route to the Duke of Alton's town house, where the wedding breakfast was being held.

Alethea sensed her husband's gaze upon her and, suddenly feeling unaccountably shy, she kept her eyes on her gloved hands, which were resting on her lap.

‘Are you all right?'

Even the sound of the carriage wheels clattering on the paved road could not drown out the deep timbre of his voice. She wondered if there would ever come a time when it would fail to affect her the way it now did. Slowly, she lifted her eyes to his face to find him regarding her with quiet concern.

‘I am fine,' she reassured him. ‘It has been a rather eventful morning.'

James smiled. ‘Are you perchance referring to the moment when you entered into a marital union before the eyes of hundreds of members of the
beau monde
?'

Alethea returned his smile. ‘How perceptive you are, Your Grace.'

‘James.'

‘James.' She watched his eyes darken. Her breath stuttered.

‘Say my name again.'

Her lips parted at the intensity that had appeared in his gaze. ‘James.' She had to make herself speak above a whisper. He would not have been able to hear her above the cantering of the horses' hooves and the clattering of the carriage wheels. Alethea stared at the duke as he slowly bent his head towards her, the tension between them drawing her nerves tight.

At that moment, their carriage slowed and then stopped, and he slowly straightened. Their gazes held for a long moment, and then they smiled, both acknowledging the disappointment they witnessed on the other's face. The door opened and James stepped out of the carriage. He held out a gloved hand for hers. ‘My lady wife.'

She placed her hand in his. ‘My lord husband.' She felt the same satisfaction she saw flaring in his dark eyes. No other words had ever felt so right.

‘Alethea, my dearest.'

‘Aunt Margaret.' The two women embraced.

‘Oh my dear, the ceremony was so lovely and you look absolutely beautiful. Your wedding gown is perfection on you.'

Alethea gave her aunt a pleased smile. ‘I'm afraid I can take no credit for that, Aunt. But I thank you for your compliment all the same. And may I add that you look magnificent in that dark shade of plum.'

Lady Margaret returned Alethea's smile, although her aunt's came with a hint of mischief. ‘Much better than your mother looks, do you not think?'

Smothering a laugh, Alethea nodded. ‘Where is Letty?'

Margaret Sinclair looked around. ‘I thought she was just behind me.'

‘Alethea!'

‘Letty!' Alethea grinned at her friend's wide smile.

‘I am so very, very happy for you!' squealed Letty, squeezing Alethea's hands tightly. ‘And, oh my, I had not remembered Trent as quite so delicious.'

The new duchess couldn't help but laugh while her aunt shushed her companion laughingly. ‘Letty, do keep your voice down.'

‘I speak nothing but the truth,' declared Letty unrepentantly, turning to look at James, who was standing some feet away from them. ‘Have you had a proper look at the man? A prime specimen of manhood, I vow. Especially in that outfit. You do make the most perfect couple.' She gave a dreamy sigh. ‘Such an imposing profile your duke has. And his hands! Oh my Lord. You
do
know what they say about the size of man's hands.'

Alethea's eyebrows rose at the wink that accompanied the statement.

‘Letty . . .' warned Lady Margaret.

Letty gazed at them, an innocent look on her face. ‘Why, the larger the hands, the better they are for handling the reins. Surely a most important quality in a husband for someone such as our Alethea here. What did you think I was about to say?'

‘One never knows with you, Letty,' retorted Alethea. She narrowed her eyes. ‘And why do I sense you are referring to something other than horses?'

‘Whatever do you mean by that?'

The brunette opened her mouth to answer when she heard her new husband's voice behind her. ‘Alethea.'

She saw her friend's eyes widen. Alethea smiled up at the duke. ‘Your Grace. You have, of course, met my Aunt Margaret.'

He bowed. ‘From Bath. Of course. Lady Margaret, it is good to see you again.'

‘And my aunt's companion and my good friend, Miss Letitia Grayson.'

‘Miss Grayson.' James endured Letty's wide-eyed stare with good grace before she finally curtsied hurriedly. Alethea could barely hide a smile at her friend's obvious enchantment.

‘Trent, we wish you both much happiness.' Margaret Sinclair looked directly at him. ‘You should know that Alethea is like a daughter to me. Cherish this treasure that is now yours and treat her well. If I hear otherwise, you will have to answer to me.'

Alethea bit her lip, embarrassed and yet touched at her aunt's concern. If James was surprised, he hid it well. Instead, he inclined his head graciously.

‘I heed your words, Lady Margaret.' He glanced at Alethea. ‘I promise you that Alethea's well-being is my utmost priority.'

‘Good.' Alethea's aunt looked pleased.

Two hours later, Alethea was chatting with Ruth and Henry when James appeared.

‘I apologise for the interruption, but it is time for us to depart. Alethea, are you ready?'

‘Yes, of course.' Alethea stepped forward and embraced her friend. ‘I will see you soon, I am sure.'

‘Be happy, Thea, and don't forget to write.' Ruth smiled, her eyes bright with tears.

Alethea swallowed back her own. ‘I will write as soon as I can.'

By the time she bid her godparents and each of her family members farewell, Alethea could barely hold back her tears. It would be months before she saw them again.

Even her mother appeared somewhat emotional. ‘Take care, dear. And don't forget my advice.'

Alethea kissed her cheek. ‘I won't. And thank you, Mother. For everything. You have truly outdone yourself today.'

Victoria Sinclair smiled. ‘You are a wife and a duchess now, Alethea. Do not forget all you have been taught.'

‘Thank you, Mother.' She turned to her father. ‘Papa, you will write, won't you?'

The Duke of Alton gave his daughter a final embrace. ‘I certainly will. Remember, if you need anything, anything at all, just send word and I will come.'

‘I know, Papa. I love you.' She smiled at her brother, who was standing to the left of her father, feeling her mouth tremble. ‘Marcus.'

He bent down and gave her a tight squeeze. ‘I hope that you are not expecting me to write to you more than once a month. You are well aware of my belief that penning letters is a woman's pursuit.'

Alethea ignored his attempt to lighten the moment, closing her eyes and inhaling his dear, familiar scent. She finally forced herself to step back. Next was her sister. ‘My dearest.'

Charlotte tried to smile, but failed. A lone tear ran down her face. ‘I will miss you, Thea.'

‘And I will miss you.' Alethea hugged her sister tightly. ‘Don't allow Mother to make you do anything you don't want to, promise me,' she whispered into her sibling's ear.

Charlotte nodded. They parted and Alethea felt James's hand at her elbow. His touch gave her strength. ‘Farewell. I will write to you as soon as I arrive,' Alethea promised her youngest sibling.

They boarded their carriage, and with a final wave, Alethea left behind everything she had ever known and held dear.

‘You are troubled.'

Alethea turned to find her husband looking intently at her. ‘I am fine, Your Grace.'

At her reply, he smiled slightly. ‘James.'

His heated regard made her cheeks warm. ‘James.' His name felt strange on her lips, as unfamiliar as the constriction around her fourth finger.

‘You need not maintain any pretence with me. It was difficult for you to leave your family.'

She nodded, feeling anew the grief upwelling at the thought. ‘I underestimated how much my leaving them would affect me, it seems.' She tried to smile. ‘Silly, isn't it?'

‘No.' His gaze was steady upon her. ‘You are close to your family. There is nothing to be embarrassed about. I wish that I had such closeness in mine.'

‘Do you not feel much connection with your brother, then?'

‘No, I cannot say that I do. He was born when I was eleven so we spent little of our childhoods together.'

She knew without being told that he had been groomed since childhood to be the next duke, whereas Matthew had not.

‘We are very much unlike.'

Alethea tilted her head. ‘I think perhaps you are more alike than you think.' She had seen the lighter side of this man before her, had seen him laugh and smile. ‘You may wish the
beau monde
to think that you are the most grim and overbearingly serious duke in all of England, but I'm afraid you've exposed your hand to me. I know very well that you are not.'