Chapter 6 #2
“Apart from protection,” he responded in a gentle tone, “you’ll certainly enjoy the luxuries of being my duchess.
You’ll own everything I have. You’ll have your own rooms and servants.
You will experience a freedom like you have never known.
The choice to stay at home or to attend social gatherings will be left entirely to your discretion. ”
The image he created of their future sounded very attractive. She would not have to answer to anyone anymore, at least if her husband kept his promise.
“Of course, Society expects a healthy young couple like us to produce heirs. After all, who would own my estate after I’m gone?” he said thoughtfully, almost as if the matter had just crossed his mind.
“I—I know my duty, Your Grace,” she said, suddenly feeling nervous again.
Of course.
All the lords expected heirs, especially ones with considerable wealth and power. Even if she allowed him to take mistresses, those women could not provide him with legitimate heirs. She also felt her throat tighten at the thought of her husband with mistresses.
Would there be?
Daphne bowed her head and twisted her fingers once more. She knew she should agree if he asked. She owed him that much, but she did not like the way this new thought spoiled the others.
“Duty?” His tone suggested that something she said had disgusted him, so Daphne raised her chin and met his gaze.
His eyes bored into her as he said in a crisp and terse voice, “No, I won’t lie with you because of duty only.
I will make you eager and begging for it first. Because I want you in my bed.
But as I swore to you once before, I will not take what you are not willing to give. ”
Her throat constricted. She should have felt offended, but she wasn’t. Instead, her eyes were still on his. Their gazes locked for a moment before his eyes dropped to his lips. She licked hers, even as her heart pounded in her ears.
Then, the carriage hurtled to a stop, swaying his body backward and away from her.
She felt a pang of disappointment as the moment faded.
“Welcome home, Duchess,” he said in a gravelly voice. “We’ve arrived.”
Her heart lurched. True enough, they had arrived at Wolfcrest. She had not visited the place before, but when she saw its tall, wrought-iron gates swinging open, she knew that this was the place where she belonged.
I will be safe here. The Duke…those iron gates…they will shelter me.
The crest of a silver wolf gleamed near their spires. Beyond, a long drive awaited them. She remembered how the Duke had daringly walked toward his estate at night, instead of taking a carriage or riding on horseback.
The carriage entered to bring them closer to the manor. The place looked impressive and beautiful at the same time with lights glowing like eyes against the dark backdrop.
“Do not be afraid, Duchess. The wolves here only bite when invited,” he said, grinning.
When the carriage rolled to a stop once more, it was right in front of Wolfcrest’s steps. A footman darted to open the door. As he did, Daphne felt a cold air smelling of pine and rain crash against her. She inhaled.
The place smelled and felt like the Duke of Wolfcrest. He descended the carriage, turned and extended his hand toward her. Daphne placed her hand in his, as he helped her down. He steadied her easily, making her feel light as a feather.
“Careful,” he murmured, his lips close to her ear. “You will be stepping on old stones, ones that have tripped the wary before.”
“I—I am not wary, Your Grace,” she said, even as she used his firm hand to step on the stones.
Soon, she was met with by a small procession of servants. Each of them gave her a friendly smile and a bow.
“Welcome, Your Grace,” the butler said, respectful and solemn.
It was at that moment that she fully grasped the reality of her new situation. She was now a duchess.
“Mrs. Fletcher will be seeing to the Duchess’s comfort,” the Duke declared. “Someone must see that the baggage is brought up and the horses tended.”
Daphne noticed how his voice never rose, but every servant knew their tasks. Some quickly went about their duties without being told twice.
“You will find Wolfcrest efficient,” he said, as if reading her mind. “Meanwhile, I must attend to some business. Mrs. Fletcher will help you settle in by guiding you to your chambers.”
He was quickly gone, surprising her. In the carriage she thought that he was somehow interested in her as a wife, but she could have read the situation inaccurately. Sometimes, she wondered if she was, indeed, too naive for this world.
“This way, Your Grace, if you please,” Mrs. Fletcher said with a soft smile. She was, perhaps, only a little younger than Daphne’s mother, but with kind eyes that were nothing like those the Dowager possessed.
Daphne followed Mrs. Fletcher through a maze of halls with portraits and intricately designed sconces. Doorways were opened for her benefit so that she could catch glimpses of cozy fireplaces, even in rooms that were perhaps barely used.
They ascended the grand staircase at a steady pace, the marble cool and firm under her feet.
“His Grace has requested that you settle in the rooms that adjoin his own for convenience,” Mrs. Fletcher declared matter-of-factly.
Daphne could not help but blush at the word “convenience,” but she was not afraid of her new husband. Not in that way. He had confidently said that he would not lie with her until she was ready to consummate their marriage.
But will I ever feel entirely prepared?
Daphne knew not how to process this quandary. She thought the Duke was exceedingly handsome and even saw the pragmatism in providing him with an heir. But—if it were left up to her, she would keep the door locked between their adjoining rooms until she better understood him.
Her new chambers were beautiful, taking her breath away.
A canopy bed took centerpiece. It was covered in ivory and gold damask.
While outside the air was chilly, it was warm and cozy inside with a fire blazing heartily.
Tall windows provided her with a generous view of the estate.
Daphne walked toward one of the windows and perched there for a moment.
Before Daphne could lose herself completely in scouting the terrain, Mrs. Fletcher cleared her throat and Daphne swung around to see her. A young maid joined them, curtsying before she introduced herself. “Your Grace. My name is Clara, your personal maid.”
Her lady’s maid was about her age, young and soft-cheeked.
“Thank you, Clara,” Daphne said, truly grateful even as she tried to be calm about the details of her new life.
“Hot water will soon be carried upstairs,” Mrs. Fletcher said. “Should you need anything else—”
“I shall send word,” Daphne finished.
Mrs. Fletcher bowed and left the room, while Clara was left behind to help the new Duchess undress. The maid unbuttoned the gown with deft fingers and soon the silk and lace slid from Daphne’s body.
“Wolfcrest is grand, Your Grace,” Clara said enthusiastically, even as she folded the gown neatly. “Everything here runs like clockwork.”
“Oh.”
Daphne did not know quite what to make of this statement. She had expected nothing less from her new husband and yet, hearing the lady’s maid report as much made her wonder why the comment was necessary.
After the hot water arrived, Clara poured it into Daphne’s tub. The bride stepped into its warmth, thankful for the way the water soothed her aches.
But her mind still could not rest.
She thought of the Duke’s contradictory actions.
In one instance, he was jovial and almost light-hearted.
In the next, he was intimidating and authoritative.
She wondered what business had preoccupied him on his wedding night.
It could not be ledgers. Those could wait.
It must be something darker and more urgent, and the subject of Briarwood’s fears.
“Clara, what sort of man is your master?”
The girl seemed to hesitate or perhaps she was just focused on wringing the wet cloth in her hands.
“His Grace is a fair man, Your Grace. He is strict but kind to those who earn his trust.”
“But what if one does not?”
“They learn not to err the same way, Your Grace.”
Daphne hoped that the maid would expound upon this point, but no further conversation developed between them. Clara excused herself so she might go in search of more rose petals to add to the water and Daphne gladly dismissed her.
It is strange.
She knew that she had taken steps toward earning the Duke’s trust because he seemed pleased by her sense of propriety. But she also understood that her new husband had a peculiar temperament.
To be both strict and kind, as Clara described him, was rather a feat.
As Daphne sank lower into the tub, she wondered what she might do to endear herself to her husband, for that was what she wanted above all things.
To be safe and protected was nice, a necessity, but to be loved and adored…that was her dream.