Chapter 5
CHAPTER FIVE
Simon did not know what a groom was supposed to feel like when he stood at the altar, but he had a feeling that this was not it. His expression was unreadable.
To the audience, he appeared calm. But in earnest, he was anything but. He was trying not to react, but it was proving impossible, and he could hardly stop himself from staring at the woman walking toward him.
The bride had arrived.
Rachel made her way down the aisle. She wore a basic gown, yet somehow the simplicity of it made it much more alluring. It fit her perfectly, and Simon’s eyes ran over the contours of her body.
God.
It was not the most polite thing for him to be having these thoughts, but somehow all he could think about was how he would like to see her tremble with pleasure under his hands.
Rachel seemed quite oblivious to his own wayward thoughts, however. There was a shyness to her, which he noticed when she finally reached him and looked up to face him.
He had not expected himself to react in this manner, but his breath caught at the sight.
This was one thing that he could not deny. The woman was beautiful, and she looked even better up close.
Better, and all the more tempting. For a moment, he considered that staring would seem a bit out of place, but then he reminded himself that he was at his own wedding and this was his wife.
He could not help staring at her.
Rachel had expected disinterest; she had not expected him to stare. It was unnerving, to say the least.
It took Rachel every ounce of willpower not to trip on her way there.
“Miss Montrose,” he said simply.
“Your Grace.”
The clergyman began the ceremony, his droning voice providing a background hum that Rachel barely registered. Her focus remained on Simon.
Why was he still staring?
“You look…”
She waited for him to go on.
Simon sighed. “Lovely.”
The words sounded entirely too stiff for what was meant to be a compliment. Is this simply a formality?
Surely, it was a very awkward one.
“Thank you.”
And then she felt puzzled about what to say next. Perhaps pay him a compliment, too?
No. She felt herself blushing at the thought alone. Though he did not deserve it. It was not lost on her how handsome he looked in his perfectly polished suit. No surprise, he must have access to the best seamstress in town.
Simon inclined his head, as if to assess her. He reached out, his hand brushing against her waist as he guided her to face the guests.
“Are you cold?” Simon asked, his voice quiet enough that only she could hear.
“No,” Rachel said quickly, warmed by the blush on her cheeks.
“You are shivering,” he commented simply.
“No,” she said too quickly.
“And now,” the clergyman interrupted, “by the power vested in me, I pronounce you husband and wife.”
The words hit her hard. She was no longer Rachel Montrose; she was now the Duchess of Everly.
Simon then turned towards her. Each of his movements seemed perfectly measured, and he reached out to her once again. His hand came to rest lightly on her lower back.
Surely, that felt more intimate than before. Rachel felt her breath hitch again.
And a shiver ran down her body.
Since he had his hand on her back, he noticed the slightest movement. Rachel felt embarrassed at having been caught. But it was inevitable. Try as she might, she could not be completely nonchalant towards him.
Simon met her gaze then, and there was a twinkle in his eyes. As though he was trying to convey to her that he had indeed noticed.
She felt her cheeks burn, but then he stepped back slightly, giving her a chance to compose herself.
But his hand never left the small of her back. In a way, it felt like a possessive gesture, and the thought of him feeling possessive over her made her mind spin. Not all in a bad way, a part of her liked it.
She was quick to push that part away, though. She would not concern herself with thoughts of this nature.
They reached the carriage that was waiting for them.
“Well,” Christopher said in a tone that was clearly meant for her ears alone, “you’ve pulled it off. Quite the little scheme.”
Rachel should not have expected anything better from her father, even on her wedding day. But she resolved not to make a scene in front of her husband now.
Letitia took it as a moment to step in.
“It is still difficult for me to believe, really,” she cut in. “You, of all people, managing to trap a duke into a marriage with you. Truly remarkable. Though I suppose even men of his rank can be fooled.”
Immediately, she felt Simon’s hand on her back tighten in its hold. It was indication enough that he had been listening to the conversation, even though he appeared to be otherwise uninterested.
Her heart began to beat louder in her chest. The last thing she wanted was for her family to embarrass her in front of the duke.
“I would advise,” Simon began, “that you both choose your next words carefully. You may not see any problem in insulting your own blood, but insulting my wife is not something I will tolerate.”
His response was not one that she had been expecting. Instead of agreeing with them, he had chosen to take her side? The gesture alone felt entirely unfamiliar, as she was used to everyone doing the opposite.
But more than that, his possession from earlier had returned. With the way that he spoke, it was as though he was staking claims.
“Oh, we did not mean any harm,” Christopher amended his tone immediately. “It was merely a jest.”
There was a world of difference between how her father spoke to her and how he spoke to the duke.
“It was a poor one,” Simon said.
“We apologize, Your Grace.” There was a nervousness in Christopher’s laughter. Rachel could only watch the scene unfold in amazement. She had never seen her own father fold so quickly from his position.
But Simon did not appear to be done just yet. He turned his gaze to Letitia.
“Do not try to demean her again. I will not accept it. Consider this a warning.”
Letitia paled and managed only a weak nod. It was satisfying to see her without a ready response for once.
“Good.” Simon turned back to Rachel and then nodded to the carriage. “Shall we?”
Rachel felt as though she was in a daze. She managed a weak nod, and Simon guided her towards the carriage door.
It was real. She was married now. It took her many moments of silence before she could speak again—the carriage was now steadily on its way over to the estate.
“What you did there…” she started. “Was that really necessary?”
Even though it felt satisfying to watch her family get put in their place, she was still a peacemaker at heart. She never wanted a conflict to escalate.
“Yes, it was,” Simon said simply. He was looking at her as though she had suggested something absurd. “You don’t agree?”
“I am not sure if I do.”
“Your name is associated with mine now,” he reminded her. “I do not wish for people to talk to you like that. It is the equivalent of disrespecting me.”
“They’ll hate me even more now,” Rachel frowned.
“And?” Simon argued. “If that is the position that they choose to have, then you should be the least bothered by that. I am not.”
“Well, I understand why you do not care about that,” she replied. “But they are my family, and I have no choice but to care.”
“Let them think what they will,” Simon said, his tone firm. “You are a duchess now. Whatever smear you had on you is washed. And I would urge you to behave like a duchess as well.”
Rachel wanted to deny it, but he had a point. She was titled now. She’d come a long way from the days when she had nothing. All her life, her father and Letitia had discriminated against her for being less than them. But now the roles had suddenly flipped.
It was a strange feeling. And it was surely going to take a good amount of time to get used to it.
They arrived at the Everly estate, and Rachel was still overwhelmed by the events of the day. She thought she would have a moment alone now, in her new chambers.
But the moment they arrived, Simon ushered her over to the sitting area. Ushered, not asked.
“Sit,” he said simply.
“You could ask me if I want to—”
He cut her off, “Sit down, Duchess.”
Rachel did not argue further and did as she was told.
Simon remained standing, looming over her.
“We should set some things straight,” he began finally, and Rachel felt her heart thud loudly against her chest in anticipation. “There are a few rules you will follow while you are here. They are not negotiable.”
Rachel raised an eyebrow. “Rules?”
What a strange thing. Was this normal for a marriage?
Simon ignored her surprised tone and carried on as though it was completely normal.
“Rule one: Never ask me where I am going. Rule two: Never interrupt me when I am working. Rule three—” His eyes darkened, his voice lowering. “You are never to enter the attic.”
Rachel blinked, caught off guard by the peculiar specificity of the last rule.
“The attic?” she repeated, her brows knitting together. “Why on earth—”
“I don’t owe you an explanation,” Simon interrupted. “You will abide by these rules. Other than that, you are free to live as you please.”
She stared at him, her confusion quickly giving way to irritation.
“Is that all there is to it, then? No questions, no explanations? I’m simply to follow orders like some… obedient maid?”
The implication set her off. She was not going to live like that. She would not be treated as her father had treated her mother.
Simon’s jaw tightened. “I never said maid. I told you, you are free to live as you please as long as you abide by my rules.”
Rachel shook her head. “It is not freedom if it’s so conditional, is it?”
She had not wanted to argue with him, especially not on their first day as husband and wife. But she was tired from the ceremony.
“It’s for your own good,” he asserted.
“For my own good?” she echoed, rising from her chair now. “You can’t possibly expect me to follow rules without question, especially when one of them involves a perfectly ordinary part of the house. You must at least tell me why.”
It was a small thing to focus on, but she could not help herself. He had brought out something in her—an argumentative side.
A passionate one. She discarded the thought quickly, chiding herself for thinking that way.
Simon stepped closer, towering over her.
“It is not usual,” he cautioned her softly, as if warning her off. “You will soon learn that I am not a man who likes being questioned.”
She lifted her chin as she gazed at him. “And I am not a woman who enjoys being treated like a child.”
There was a flicker in Simon’s gaze. He took another step closer, his heat surrounding her. Rachel’s breath caught as her back struck the wall.
“I have no interest in treating you like one,” he scoffed. She noticed that he was standing a bit too close to her now. “But if you are to live with me, then you are going to have to learn how to listen.”
He was not trying to put distance between them. If anything, he was closing the distance. She felt his breath fan across her face.
For a moment, her body had betrayed her, and a shiver ran down her spine, but it was not brought on by fear. It was something else that was a lot more… desirable.
“Why? Why can’t I…”
Simon’s hand against her head quieted her words. His other hand hovered above her waist, close enough to cause her to shift awkwardly, though it didn’t touch her.
“I am giving you a warning,” he whispered. “If you breach these rules, you will do so at your own risk.”
It was hard for Rachel to even think of a response. His proximity had sent her mind entirely into a tizzy. A small part of her, which was growing quieter by the minute, wished to protest and demand answers.
But it was overpowered by another part that wished to know what his hands would feel like wrapped around her delicate waist. She was certain that he would be able to hold her quite firmly and would have no trouble moving her around at his will.
Stop that.
Her face burned with embarrassment at her own fantasy, and she cursed herself inwardly. She should have been furious with him, not whatever this was.
Simon’s dark eyes flicked down and lingered on her lips for one moment before he drew back.
“Do not forget what I have told you,” he said. “For your own good.”
“You get to decide what is good for me?” she argued.
“I will,” he countered.
She found herself hoping, against reason, that this would be the moment that he would reach out to her and touch her again. But he did the opposite.
He left.
Gone, striding out of the room as though nothing had happened, leaving Rachel alone.
Is this what the rest of my married life is going to look like? Being subservient to a man?
“Does he think he can just order me around like this?” she muttered to herself in frustration after she was sure that she was firmly out of earshot. That alone felt infuriating.
It was going to be a difficult marriage if he was going to have all of these rules in place for her to follow. But more than that, she was beginning to realise that it was going to be far more difficult for her not to react to him.