Chapter 20
“And that is why you simply must introduce my Beatrice to your other sons. I am sure she would make a fine wife for any of them.”
“Andromeda,” the Duchess kindly chastised. “I just married His Grace off. Please give me time to let things calm down before the matchmaking begins again.”
“My apologies! Please, do let me know if you find any of your other sons are starting their search!” Andromeda politely excused herself and walked toward the refreshment table, striking up a conversation with Lady Ferndown, the Marchioness of Stilton, and her very eligible son.
“Bravo,” Royce whispered to his mother.
“My dear boy, once you have been around these people as long as I have, you learn a thing or two,” she said in a playfully condescending way.
“I will—for the sake of knowing what is best for my health—bow down to one more knowledgeable than I.”
The Duchess smacked Royce on the shoulder with her fan. “Do not mock me. You may be a duke, but I am a duchess and your mother. I was here long before you, and I can ensure I am here long after you as well.” She walked down the steps to chat with some of the wedding guests.
“My mother terrifies me,” Royce said, making Della laugh. “You think that is funny, do you?”
“Not in the slightest. Your mother is something to be feared.”
“Should we try to sneak out of here? I doubt anyone would notice our absence, at least not for a while,” Royce asked, leaning toward her.
“Please?” Della whispered.
“Follow me.” Royce took Della’s hand and guided her to the side of the house. “This door leads to the kitchens directly.”
“I have never noticed this door before.”
“Really? Even in your late-night raids with Maggie to the kitchen when you were younger?”
“How do you know about that?”
Royce laughed. “Because late one night, Aden, Desmond, Grayson, and I decided we were hungry, and apparently you two were as well. We thought about scaring you, but decided it would make too much noise, so we hid until you left.”
Making their way down the stairs, Royce had a flashback of himself with Desmond, Grayson, and Aden hiding around a corner after finding Maggie and Della in the kitchen. He remembered all of them laughing when they discovered girls were not immune to the call of their stomachs, either.
Once the girls had left, the four of them snuck into the kitchen when they heard someone clear their throat. His father stood there, unkempt from a late-night working in the study.
Royce had expected to be reprimanded for being out of bed and tried to devise an excuse to lessen their punishment. But his father did not say a word before he started going around the kitchen to get plates and forks from the cupboard, then into the pantry, where he found leftover strawberry tarts and gingerbread.
Within minutes, the five of them were sitting around the table in the servant’s hall, eating, joking, and laughing. It was probably one of the fondest memories Royce had of his father.
Royce and Della came to the bottom of the stairs, only to be greeted by the kitchen servants and Mrs. Ivers. Everyone froze, not knowing how to respond to the newly married duke and duchess showing up unexpectedly.
“Your Graces.” Mrs. Ivers curtsied, and the rest of the staff follow suit. “We did not expect you down here. I hope you found everything acceptable for your big day.” She looked at them with hopeful eyes.
“Everything was absolutely divine,” Della assured her. “I cannot express enough gratitude to you for all your hard work.” Mrs. Ivers’ smile stretched from one ear to the other at Della’s praise.
“I must agree with my wife. Everything was excellent.“ Mrs. Ivers’ face turned several shades of red from Royce’s compliment. “We came this way to avoid being seen by any guests.”
“I saw nothing, Your Grace. But perhaps you would like to take some cake with you?” Mrs. Ivers asked. “It will not take but a moment.” And she hurried around the kitchen, grabbing some cloth, string, and a knife. She spread the cloth out on the table and turned to cut two large pieces of cake. Placing the cut pieces down, she wrapped them up and secured a sting around each one. “Now off you go.” She giggled, handing the cakes to Della.
“What?!” Royce heard Mrs. Ivers exclaim as they left. “There is nothing to see! Get back to work, the lot of you. We still have guests out there that need to be fed.”
Royce laughed as they raced up to the other side. “Stay here,” he told Della, and peeked out to see if the foyer was empty. He turned back and pulled Della out the front door, and they ran to the carriage that was waiting for them. Following her in, Royce sat on the plush, well-cushioned seat next to her.
“Your mother will wonder where we have gone.”
“Whose idea do you think it was to use the servant’s entrance to make our getaway?” Royce asked.
Della’s face revealed her shock, and Royce chuckled.
“I had wondered why our escape seemed so easy, but I cannot complain, for we now have two pieces of cake!” Holding up the neatly wrapped parcels, Della smiled brightly.
The giddy excitement Della had felt as they made their pretend covert escape was wearing off. It had been all talking and laughter, but her nerves had started to make themselves known as she thought about what lay ahead. And suddenly, she did not know where to look or how to act.
“Abigail packed your belongings and brought them to our new home. She has assured me everything will be in place when we arrive,” Royce said, breaking Della away from her thoughts. “I hope you will be as pleased as I am with how everything turned out.”
“I am sure everything will be wonderful.” Della smiled at Royce and quickly changed the subject. “Is this the carriage you had built to replace the other one? It is lovely.”
“It is yours to take wherever you wish to go.”
“What?” Her shock was almost enough to make her forget how nervous she was. “This is mine?”
“Yes, a wedding gift from me to you.”
“But you already gave me this ring,” she said, holding up her hand and sighed. “I did not get you anything.”
“Della.” Royce turned in his seat to face her more fully. “You deserve everything and more. Besides, it will be nice to know when Maggie needs a carriage, she will not steal mine…she will steal yours,” he chuckled.
Della smacked Royce playfully on the arm as she laughed, too. “I knew there must have been a reason for such a grand gesture.”
“If Maggie should commandeer your carriage, you are more than welcome to use our other one.”
“Our other one? You mean yours?”
Royce shook his head. “No, I mean ours. Mine implies I will be riding alone; ours implies I shall be in the carriage with you.” His playful demeanor vanished, replaced by a heated intensity in his eyes.
“Will you be in my carriage with me for occasions other than today?” Della leaned in closer.
“I am sure something could be arranged.”
Royce claimed Della’s lips as his own as he smoothly pulled her onto his lap. But soon, their kiss turned into a passionate collision that ignited a whirlwind of desire and excitement within her. Della grazed her fingers along the edge of his collar, relishing the velvety texture of his skin and the silkiness of his hair as she tangled her hands into the darkened strands.
But the moment Royce dipped his finger into her bodice, the world beyond their carriage ceased to exist. He continued to brush kisses along her neck as he teased her nipple to a peak; allowing every lingering pass to be a whispered promise of better things to come.
Overwhelmed by the sensation, Della nearly let out a loud moan when the carriage came to an abrupt halt, causing her to jump from Royce’s lap and look in the mirror mounted on the carriage’s wall.
Her lips were red and swollen, her color high, as she tucked a tendril of hair behind her ear. She hoped the staff would assume her flushed cheeks were from the excitement of her wedding day and not from the heated moment they had just shared.
“Royce, it is magnificent,” Della said as the door was whisked open. Her eyes widened in awe at the sight of the place she would now call home.
The combination of brick and stone walls with white-washed windows gave it a dignified presence. Staff had arranged themselves along the wide, sweeping stairs that ascended to a white door with two tall columns on either side.
“May I present to you, your new duchess? A few know Her Grace, but many of you do not, and I will introduce you in due course. All I ask is that you make her feel welcome and do your best to be helpful while we are all adjusting.” Royce’s voice was authoritative but kind.
The staff dispersed as Royce led Della up the stairs. I can do this, she thought to herself. But before she could step inside, Royce scooped her up and carried her over the threshold, through the opulent foyer, and into what she assumed was now his study. Once inside, he put her down, turned the key in the lock, and leaned his head against the door.
“Is something wrong?” Della asked.
“What do you think?” Royce asked, turning to face Della.
Everything about him seemed normal as Della looked over his form, her gaze traveling down his body until it settled on the telltale sign of his desire. “Oh,” she said nervously, biting her bottom lip.
“This is what has been wrong every time I dream about you, every time I see you…every time I think about you.” Royce looked down at himself. “There has been no relief for me. All I need to do is picture your eyes, your lips, and I am undone. Unable to slake the lust you incite within me with anything other than my own hand.”
Moving with deliberate slowness, Della closed the distance between herself and Royce. “Well,” she said, feeling her entire being on the verge of melting from the sheer intensity of his gaze. “Here I am.”
Royce wasted no time. The moment the words escaped Della’s mouth, he swiftly twirled her around and pressed her firmly against the door. Fear had consumed her when she last found herself in this position, as Lord Haddock made yet another attempt to force her into marriage. But here, in this moment, with the only man she ever wanted, she felt safe and protected.
Royce lightly pulled at the front of Della’s dress and trailed his tongue across the tops of her breasts, where they strained beneath her stays, begging to be released.
“Della.” Royce’s breath was hot against her skin. “We cannot do this here.” He whispered as his tongue continued its exploration. “I want to take you on every surface in this room. The desk.” He trailed his lips up, meeting hers in a fiery kiss. “The chair.” His hand skimmed upward, cupping her breast. “Against the wall.” He kissed her again. “I do not know how many more times I can start and stop and not explode from sheer want of you. But, for our first time, I think it best to do this somewhere a bit more comfortable.”
The multitude of new sensations that Royce was eliciting from her was enough to make her feel dizzy. And his deep, resonating voice sent shivers down her spine, awakening a longing she never knew existed. Royce pressed one more scorching kiss upon her already swollen lips before reaching around her and pulling the bell, its sharp chime cutting through the air.
“Giles will see you to your room. I borrowed him until our new steward—a Mr. Jeffries—arrives next week.” Hearing a knock, Royce opened the door.
“You rang, Your Grace?”
“Giles, please show Her Grace to her new room,” Royce said, turning to Della. “I shall be up shortly.”
Della smiled at Royce before allowing Giles to show her the way.
“Giles?”
“Yes, Your Grace?”
“Would you be so kind as to give me a tour of the house and grounds soon?”
“I believe His Grace said he would like to assume that duty,” Giles said as they arrived at her room.
“But should you have questions, I shall be happy to answer them.”
“Thank you.”
“My pleasure, Your Grace.” Giles bowed his head as he opened the door for her.
Taking in the surroundings of the room, Della noticed the ivory-colored décor, with hints of blue and green. But when she saw her bed, she excitedly darted across the room and flung herself onto its plush surface. This bed was massive compared to the one she had back at home.
Della paused—that was no longer her home. This one was. Several thoughts raced through her head, but the one that occupied the most space was that she was now Royce’s wife, the Duchess of Exeter, and mistress of this house.
“I hope you find the bed to your liking.”
Della bolted upright, and looked toward the door where Royce stood, silhouetted by the candlelight emanating from the hallway. His jacket was nowhere to be seen, his shirt was untucked with the top buttons undone, exposing a glimpse of what lay beneath. Her eyes swept down to his bare feet, causing her face to flush at the sight of his naked toes.
“May I come in?” Royce asked,
Della’s mouth was dry, so she simply nodded.
Royce took a few steps into the room, locked the door, and froze; almost as if he was unsure of what to do next.
“I will give you a tour of the house and grounds tomorrow if you would like. This, of course,” he said, motioning around him, “is your room. If there is anything you would like to change, you need only say something. Through that door,” he pointed to the ivory-colored door on his left, “is your dressing room. And on the other side is a door that leads to my bedroom.” He raked his hand through his dark brown locks and cleared his throat. “Would you care for a drink?”
He left without waiting for an answer and quickly returned with two glasses and a crystal decanter. “Scotch?” he asked, holding up the bottle.
“Please.” Della rose from the bed and walked toward the table positioned in front of the fireplace, where Royce poured them both generous servings.
“Grayson brought this back for me when he visited an old school friend of ours whose family owns one of the oldest distilleries in Scotland. Only scotch worth having, in my opinion.”
Della took a small sip, not wanting a repeat of the last time, and watched Royce swirl the amber liquid in his glass. The liquid burned all the way down, but soon, a soft ambient warmth flowed through her veins. Royce’s heated gaze met hers over the rim of her glass.
Taking one more sip, she swished it around her mouth, swallowed, and handed her partially full glass back to Royce. Never breaking eye contact, Royce threw back the remaining contents of her drink as well.
“Oh, what the hell…” Della threw her arms around Royce’s neck and pulled him in for a kiss. Royce let the empty glass in his hand fall onto the carpeted floor with a thud as he wrapped his arms around her waist.
“We can take this slow, Della,” Royce spoke out of the side of his mouth as they continued to kiss.
Della simply shook her head, pulling him closer.
Royce placed his hands on her shoulders and pushed her back far enough so their lips did not touch.
“We will take this slow…“ The statement sounded more like an order as Royce began backing her up toward the bed. “I will take my time with you,” he growled low in her ear. “I want to make you discover things you do not even know about yourself.” He placed his hand beneath her jawline.
“Things that will have you screaming out my name before the night is over.”
“You seem rather sure of yourself,” Della said, cocking an eyebrow.
“Oh, I am,” he chuckled darkly. “But know this…should you need to stop, just say so. I want to make this enjoyable for both of us. Understood?”
“Understood,” Della whispered.
“Good. Now—turn around.” Royce spun his finger in a circular motion. “Please.” He added when Della hesitated.
Slowly, Della did as she was asked, turning her backside to face his front. Royce gently ran his fingers across the delicate fabric of her wedding dress, carefully unfastening each button until the dress slipped off, revealing her undergarments.
“Women wear too many things under their dresses,” he grumbled, undoing the laces on Della’s stays. When Royce finally pulled the last length of ribbon through, he let go, allowing her stays to follow the dress to the floor.