How to Dance With a Duke (27 page)

“It is nonsense, of course,” Maddie said, coming to her cousin’s defense. “Miss Snowe is obviously overreacting, as she does with any number of things.”

“Yes,” Juliet said, her usual retiring demeanor replaced with a ferocity that surprised and humbled Cecily. “There has been a lot of talk—by people with nothing better to discuss. I suspect that the story has been fueled by those who wish to discredit both the Hurston and Winterson families. Surely you would not choose to ally yourself with those blackguards.”

Vinson ran a finger under his collar in discomfort. “Dashed sorry to bring it up, Your Grace,” he said. “I meant no offense, of course. Certainly wouldn’t want to … er … I think I see my cousin Chester talking with Lord Darlington. There is a pressing matter we must discuss. Your humble servants, ladies.”

With that, Mr. Vinson hurried off as if he were being pursued by Sally Jersey on a broom.

“Spiteful cat,” Juliet hissed, referring to the absent Amelia, who had revived talk of the curse. “She’s simply jealous because you removed an eligible duke from the marriage market.”

“And married before she did, despite her popularity,” Maddie added with vehemence. “I do not think there is a charitable bone in Amelia Snowe’s body.”

“Well,” Cecily said, shaking her head, “I wish Amelia were our only worry. With Papa’s continued illness, Will’s disappearance, and now the speculation among the
ton,
even I am beginning to wonder if there is some truth to the curse.”

“Nonsense,” Juliet said bracingly. “You are merely feeling overwhelmed. Do not give Amelia the satisfaction of seeing her poisoned words hit their mark.”

The new Duchess of Winterson nodded, shaking off the dark mood Amelia’s insinuations had brought.

“Tell me what goes on with you two,” she said brightly. “Maddie, I see that James is not here. Is he off on some sporting adventure once again?”

James was Madeline’s scapegrace elder brother who showed no signs of settling down as he neared his thirtieth birthday.

His put-upon sister frowned. “I believe he is in town,” she said with exasperation. “He did promise to send his regrets, Cecily. But you know as well as I do how nervous a wedding can make a single gentleman. And I fear my brother is more skittish than most about such events.”

“It is shabby of him not to at least make an appearance, though,” Juliet pronounced. “He and Cecily may not be blood relatives, but that has never mattered before.”

“Fear not,” Cecily said. “I am not in the least offended. Though I am curious at what could possibly keep him in town in prime hunting season.”

“I believe he mentioned cards,” Madeline said with a weary sigh. “At Lord Peter Naughton’s house. It is rather tedious to have a brother with such a wild reputation. It does nothing but make Mother worry and certainly has no positive effects on the family reputation at large. It is no wonder I haven’t had an offer for the three years since my debut. No man in London would be foolish enough to saddle themselves to such a brother-in-law.”

Cecily and Juliet squeezed her hands in commiseration.

“Is Lord Peter known to be a gambler, then?” Cecily asked, careful not to show her interest in the man. Lucas had told her only yesterday that there were rumors circulating that Lord Peter had added some newly discovered artifacts to his extensive collection of Egyptian treasures. “I confess I had not heard much beyond his penchant for antiquities.”

“Oh,” Madeline said with a wave of her hand. “He is your typical rakish type. He does everything to excess—gambling, women. The men in Jamie’s set are forever going on about what a capital fellow Lord Naughton is. How he bested them all when they raced their curricles from Ascot to London. How he blackened Gentleman Jackson’s eye in a bout of fisticuffs.”

Madeline made a noise of disgust. “I have grown quite weary of hearing about him. If I were ever lucky enough to be in his company I would tell him so. Alas, that is unlikely given that the man also abhors polite society and would rather dine on his boots than set foot in Almack’s. That last is a direct quote, by the way. I heard him once when he came to visit Jamie at Essex Grange.”

“It sounds like you have made a study of the man, Mads,” Juliet said, her tone sly. “One would almost imagine you are drawn to him yourself.”

Cecily was intrigued to see a faint blush rise in Madeline’s cheeks. She would take special note of the man when she and Lucas visited him. Though she would not mention her knowledge of the house party. Her husband doubtless knew of the man’s tarnished reputation, but she would not remind him lest he decide to exert his authority as her husband and forbid her to accompany him.

If Lord Naughton were as competitive as Madeline claimed, it was entirely possible that his possession of artifacts obtained during her father’s last expedition was more about besting some other collector than simple joy in the object itself.

Called away from her conversation with her cousins, she spent the rest of the wedding breakfast accepting congratulations and chatting with other guests. To her surprise, she enjoyed herself more than she had at any other gathering of the
ton
in years. Whether that could be owed to the fact that she was one of the guests of honor, or some change in her own degree of self-assurance, she could not say. But when she and Lucas left to make the short journey to his town house, she was both tired and, to her surprise, happy.

When the carriage stopped in Grosvenor Square, Cecily had a sense of being out of place. As if she should be going back to Hurston House instead of stopping at Lucas’s home. But she shook the feeling off as the normal consequence of so life-altering a change.

They were greeted by the butler, Watkins, and every servant of the house had lined up to greet their new mistress. It hammered home her new position as nothing to this point had done, and as she neared the end of the procession, the enormity of what she had taken on descended upon her and she was at once exhausted.

Perhaps seeing her weariness, Lucas took her arm and ordered baths and supper for both of them.

“There was not time to redecorate, of course,” Lucas said when they reached the duchess’s chamber. “But you are free to do so as you see fit.”

Cecily could only nod as she took in the surprisingly comfortable rooms. Furnished in fabrics and papers of pale blue and cream, the rooms were not so lavish as she had expected. For which she was grateful.

“There is a connecting door, here,” he said, gesturing toward the far wall. “There is a sitting room between our two dressing rooms. I will join you there for dinner in an hour or so.”

His voice sounded suddenly formal, and it occurred to her that perhaps her new husband felt every bit as awkward as she did in their newfound intimacy.

Before he could step through the doorway, Cecily pressed a staying hand to his arm. “Your Grace, wait.”

Lucas turned, his brows raised in question, but he slid his hand down to hers, carelessly rubbing a thumb over her clasped fingers.

“We are wed now,” he said quietly. “I should like it very much if you would call me Lucas.”

She felt a heat suffuse her cheeks. “Very well, Lucas,” she said, feeling a sudden shyness. “I … I was hoping, that is … please stay.”

One dark brow rose in query. His gaze flicked to the bed, then back at her. He raised their clasped hands to his mouth and kissed her hand. “I had thought to allow you some rest. If your sleep was as fitful as mine was last evening, then you undoubtedly need a nap.”

“Might we sleep … together?”

So many things had changed in her life in the past few days that the idea of remaining in her new chamber alone filled her with trepidation.

His eyes widened in surprise, but he nodded.

“Come.”

His fingers still linked with hers, he led her through her dressing room, the sitting room, and finally through the connecting door to his bedchamber.

It was the mirror image of her own, albeit the décor was more masculine, with darker furnishings of deep blue. The bed, a large, imposing affair, dominated the room.

Stopping at the bedside, he indicated that she should sit, and to Cecily’s bemusement, he began to undress her, beginning with her shoes and stockings.

“Lucas,” she protested. “I had only meant … that is to say … It is still daylight. Surely we cannot engage in…”

Her implication was clear, even if she could not bring herself to say the words. On any other day she would have had no qualms about speaking her mind, but her fatigue coupled with Lucas’s gentleness had sparked an uncharacteristic diffidence in her.

Unperturbed by her objection, however, he continued rolling down her left stocking and paused to place a brief kiss on her knee.

“We will only sleep, Cecily.” She read nothing but honesty in his eyes and she was struck again by how honorable he was. How
kind
. For the first time in her life she felt complete and utter trust in another person. It was at once comforting and dangerously disturbing.

“You are exhausted and so am I,” he continued.

Lucas rose and began unbuttoning his coat. It was something she felt sure he would have done with his valet’s assistance had she not been present, but as he did not wear his coat as tight as fashion dictated, he soon had it off.

It was the first time she had seen him in just his shirtsleeves and the sight made her breath catch in her throat. Amazing that something so simple could be so exciting, she mused. As he began to unwind his cravat, she found herself waiting with anticipation to see the naked skin beneath it.

Throughout the process, Lucas’s eyes never left hers, and warmth began to rise in her belly and farther below. Without prompting she tucked her feet beneath her and lay back on the pillows, feeling as decadent as a harem girl.

When he climbed up beside her and tucked her against his side, she reveled in the warmth of his skin through the thin barrier of his shirt. Her senses warred between arousal and languor.

“Sleep,” he whispered against the top of her head. “There will be time enough for us to feed our other hungers later.”

She was still formulating her protest when she drifted off in his arms.

*   *   *

Lucas came awake slowly, though he was fully aware of where he was and with whom he had just slept. He could not recall another time when he had shared his bed with a woman for the purpose of sleep only. But then there were apparently to be many such firsts with Cecily. For a brief moment of panic he wondered at her absence, but then the murmurs of sound coming from the adjoining room, one of the voices clearly hers, reassured him. He would not have been shocked if she had made a rope from the bedsheets and made her escape, but he was relieved to know she had not, all the same.

A faint hunger pang prompted him to leave his bed in search of her. They would dine in the sitting room, and if she was hungry also he would order the servants, whom he had instructed not to disturb them, to bring a light supper.

But padding on bare feet to the sitting room, he saw it was empty. When no one answered his sharp rap on the door to Cecily’s sitting room, he turned the knob and stepped inside. Already the room smelled of his wife and roses, and he smiled at the change. He wondered idly what other alterations her presence in his household would bring.

A light beamed from beneath the door of her dressing room and he crossed and silently turned the handle. The sight of his new wife, resting languidly in the deep bath his predecessor had installed, snatched the breath from him.

Her delicately arched feet resting on the tub’s edge, her eyes closed in utter relaxation, Cecily was Aphrodite come to life. Allowing his gaze free rein, he drank in the sight of her—his eyes caressing the pale, perfect skin of her long legs, lingering for a moment at the dark profusion of curls at the juncture of her thighs, skirting up to the dusky nipples that pebbled just above the surface of the water, resting at last on the dusky lashes that fanned out against her cheeks.

No goddess had ever been more enticing, and Lucas was struck suddenly by the knowledge that this sight, Cecily in all her glory, belonged to him now.

Only to him.

It was at once humbling and invigorating. He made a silent vow that as long as there was breath in his body he would do whatever it took to ensure that she never had reason to regret their hasty marriage. That he would prove himself worthy of her.

Still silent, he stepped carefully until he sank down on his haunches behind her head and leaned forward to kiss her ear.

Startled, she dropped her feet into the bath with a splash.

“Are you in the habit of sneaking up on ladies in their baths?” she asked, reflexively covering her breasts with her folded arms, scowling up at him. “Because I warn you now that I will not countenance it.”

He listened to her scold without succumbing to the urge to laugh.

“Yes, ma’am,” he said without a hint of contrition, moving his lips from her ear to her neck. “Have you ever been told how magnificently lovely you are?”

She leaned back, suspicion shining in her eyes. “Not in so many words, no,” she said. “Ugly ducklings do not normally find themselves recipients of compliments.”

This last was said with a hint of resentment that she seemed immediately to regret, for she added, “Not that it matters, of course. Empty flattery is something ladies like Amelia Snowe thrive on. I have no need of such folderol.”

They were the words of a woman who for too long had been subjected to the cutting remarks of the
ton
’s less pleasant denizens. And, he suspected, hid a great deal of self-doubt. Cecily might be assured in her cerebral acumen, but as a woman she was as unschooled as a newborn foal trying to find its balance.

He felt a surge of protectiveness for this beautiful, prickly woman he’d married. Turning her head with a gentle hand beneath her chin, he looked into her eyes, speaking softly, earnestly. “Believe me when I tell you that you are exquisite. I do not flatter. I do not fawn. I will tell you the truth. Always.”

He kissed her, allowing his mouth to linger as she relaxed into him, opening herself to the caress. Pulling back, when she would have looked away, he held her chin and looked directly into her eyes.