Chapter 13
The Duke returned to the carriage alone and climbed in, taking a seat opposite Cecily and Mary and knocking on the ceiling for the driver to depart.
“Patrick will be making his own way back,” he told them laconically when Mary raised her blotchy face from Cecily’s shoulder in question. “I think that’s for the best, for now.”
Cecily nodded her agreement and stroked Mary’s hair.
Patrick was to make his own way back, but what would happen to her and Mary now? Her sister was adamant that she would never marry him and never wanted to see him again.
Mary had also sworn on her honor that they had not lain together. Despite her professed resentment toward Patrick, she had actually defended him fiercely from the faintest notion that he might have taken her virtue.
Where did all this leave them? Alone in the world, with only the contents of Cecily’s two bundles and the unpredictable goodwill of the Duke of Greyhaven. How far would any of this stretch?
Cecily was not alone in the world, but she was also responsible for her younger sister, who by law should be returned to her legal guardian. With this additional burden, would the Duke still want to marry her?
Peculiar dismay coiled in her stomach at the thought.
The Duke was very clear that he preferred a simple life and wanted to marry her because she met his criteria for a duchess. He had not even bothered to learn her name before declaring his intentions, and it wasn’t hard to see that he would give up his pursuit at the first sign of new complications.
Surely she ought to have been relieved by the idea. Instead, it left her feeling bereft, like she had felt when their passionate kisses had been interrupted by Mary and Patrick’s carriage, longing for more of something she knew she probably shouldn’t want.
“Oh, what will become of us, Cecily?” Mary blurted out, echoing her thoughts. “Where will we go? What will we do? We can’t go back to Uncle Preston and Grandmother. They will make me marry that old man, and I can’t think what they will do to you for coming to find me.”
“Everything will be all right, Mary,” Cecily told her, hugging her close and hoping that wishes would prove as good as truths. “Whatever happens, I will not let anyone hurt you. I promise.”
“You will both go to stay with my cousin in Richmond,” the Duke announced. “Lady Jackson is already expecting you, Miss Holt, and I’m confident that Miss Mary will also be made welcome. We shall go there directly so that I can make the appropriate introductions.”
Cecily and Mary both looked at him with wide eyes, Cecily’s heart skipping a beat and Mary’s weeping temporarily silenced.
“Do you know Lady Jackson, Cecily?” Mary asked, confused. “Did she invite you to stay?”
“Lady Jackson is His Grace’s cousin,” Cecily answered evasively. “He has been kind enough to secure me an invitation.”
As the Duke caught her eyes, a small smile played on his handsome features under his unruly dark hair. That fire was in his sapphire eyes again, and her core seemed to quiver with its heat. She knew without being told that he still wished to marry her.
There would be no easy escape from becoming the Duchess of Greyhaven. Worse, a large part of Cecily didn’t want to escape.
“It is a very proper arrangement,” the Duke said, holding her gaze as though daring her to tell Mary of their engagement before he did. “I cannot host you both at Greyhaven Park, not while I am still an unmarried man…”
Despite the growing tension in the air between them, Mary seemed to notice nothing.
“How kind you are, Your Grace,” she chattered. “I shall be glad to make Lady Jackson’s acquaintance. What is Richmond like, Cecily? I don’t really care where we are as long as Uncle Preston can’t find us and I never have to see Patrick again.”
“Mary!” Cecily chided her. “Remember, Patrick is His Grace’s brother.”
“Oh, don’t worry,” the Duke replied, waving away her concerns. “I frequently feel that I never want to see Patrick again, and still he turns up and makes the most of my hospitality, whether invited or not, rather like a spoilt dog.”
Despite herself, Cecily spluttered with laughter at this description, before gathering her composure. The Duke might say what he wished about his brother, but she would rather not encourage Mary to do the same.
Unfortunately, Mary needed no encouragement to disparage Patrick.
“Spoilt! Yes, that is the word for him, Your Grace. I thought Patrick loved me. He said he loved me, but it was all just a dream. I think I hate him now. He could not say where we would make our home or how we could support ourselves or our children…”
Cecily cleared her throat and caught the Duke’s eye. “Your Grace, they did not…”
Flushing self-consciously, she did not finish her sentence, but he understood her meaning anyway.
“I know.” He nodded. “Patrick told me the same.”
“Oh! But why do you keep bringing that up, Cecily?” Mary complained. “I keep telling you that Patrick was a perfect gentleman. You seem to think he’s some kind of rake, but he’s not. He was only trying to rescue me, and you ought not to cast such aspersions on him.”
“I thought you hated him?” the Duke reminded her, clearly amused.
“Oh, I do hate him,” Mary insisted immediately, without any trace of irony. “Your brother is irresponsible and reckless, and I never, ever want to see him again.”
“Oh dear,” the Duke drawled, meeting Cecily’s eyes again. “That is very unfortunate, given the circumstances.”
Cecily swallowed and then cleared her throat. Remembering how the Duke had informed his young daughter of their impending marriage, she decided it was probably better that Mary heard the news from her.
“Mary, you may have to see Patrick more often than you would like,” she began. “There is no way around it, I’m afraid.”
“Why? What do you mean?” Mary demanded, looking from one to the other in confusion. “Why should I see him? He is nothing to me.”
“I am engaged to be married to His Grace, Mary,” Cecily revealed, the words sounding farfetched even to her own ears as she said them aloud for the first time. “Patrick is to be my brother-in-law.”
“Engaged? To be married? But you can’t be!” Mary gaped at them.
“I assure you, your sister speaks the truth. I have the marriage license with me, if you should wish to see it. Well, I hope you can bear to be around Patrick at least for the wedding, Miss Mary. You may please yourself as to keeping his company otherwise.”
“I still don’t understand,” Mary blurted out, her bafflement ever greater the longer she considered the news. “Cecily, how can this be? You’ve never mentioned His Grace to me before. You’ve never mentioned anyone. You even said you would never marry!”
“I’ll explain later,” Cecily whispered to her, knowing that any explanation she gave would elicit more questions from Mary and more attention from the handsome man sitting only a few inches away. “Don’t ask me now.”
It wasn’t until they stopped to eat some of the food from Mrs. Barnes’ hamper that the two sisters finally had a chance to speak properly.
The Duke had gone over to talk to the driver about routes, leaving them with the horses, which had been released from their harnesses and were cropping the long grass.
“It is all my fault,” stated a pale-faced Mary after hearing Cecily’s story. “You only agreed to marry the Duke so that he would help you find me. You barely know him and cannot possibly love him.”
Cecily paused before replying, not wanting to add to her young sister’s distress. Yes, ensuring Mary’s safety and well-being was definitely her main reason for seeking the Duke’s assistance, and his proposal had surprised her. But was that truly the only reason she had accepted it?
Despite the warmth of the day, she shivered as she thought about the intensity of the Duke’s deep blue gaze, the warmth and strength of his body against hers, and the unnerving yet irresistible erotic intimacy of their close encounters.
“It was not only that,” she admitted with a sigh. “Love is not the only reason that people marry, Mary.”
“You only say so to comfort me,” Mary replied, shaking her head ruefully. “I know that you did not care about being a spinster, Cecily. You always said so, and I cannot believe you accepted this man now, only because you had no other prospects. It is not like you. How can you ever forgive me?”
Cecily did not correct her misconstruction. It would be easier to let her believe that she was marrying solely for Mary’s salvation, or to avoid remaining a spinster, although her sister was unconvinced on this score.
It was unthinkable to explain that there was also the matter of the Duke having eyes so blue and a voice so compelling that she had stripped naked before him and obeyed the most indecent commands with unprecedented physical joy.
“There is nothing to forgive, Mary,” she assured her sister, refilling their cups with fruit cordial. “Really. Anyway, nothing could be worse than living with Uncle Preston and Grandmother.”
As Cecily hoped, Mary laughed and nodded at the small joke.
It was true that marriage and life at Greyhaven Park could not be worse, but it was also far less clear to her what life as the Duchess of Greyhaven would entail.
The Duke had made two things very clear so far. Firstly, he expected his Duchess to be a stepmother to his daughter. Secondly, he had extensive expectations around marital congress, and Cecily would have to meet them.
Glancing at the carriage, she saw the Duke leaning against it, watching her thoughtfully. Blushing under his gaze, she nodded politely and turned back to her food.
“Do you like him?” Mary asked curiously, but Cecily did not trust herself to speak. “I think he likes you. He keeps looking at you, you know.”
“Eat your food, Mary,” Cecily instructed, getting to her feet and brushing away the crumbs of bread from her skirts with great deliberation that she hoped would hide her inexplicable inner turmoil. “The driver is hitching the horses again, and we must get back on the road to Richmond.”