Chapter 21
Twenty-One
Austin stood in the center of his library, listening to the last echo of carriage wheels fade into the night.
The servants had long since withdrawn after lighting the fires and turning down the beds.
The house was quiet, too quiet, save for the soft crackle of coals in the grate and the distant tick of the hall clock.
Deena stood near the window, back to him, arms wrapped around herself as though the room were colder than it was. She had changed into a simple evening gown of deep green silk after the guests left. She had barely spoken to him since they crossed the threshold.
He wanted to go to her. To pull her against him, press his lips to the nape of her neck, feel her relax the way she had that night in her bedchamber. But he stayed where he was. Comfort, he had discovered, was a skill he possessed in theory but not always in practice.
He cleared his throat. “Deena.”
She turned. Her eyes were red-rimmed but dry. She offered a small, brittle smile. “Austin.”
He crossed the carpet in three strides and took her hand before he could talk himself out of it. Her fingers were cold; he closed both of his around them.
“Are you all right?” he asked.
She gave a short, humorless laugh. “Of course not.”
She looked down at their joined hands and slowly pulled her hand free.
Austin hid his disappointment. “I sent three letters to Penelope before we left Greystone. Once every day after the article appeared. But I’ve received nothing back.
The post from Paris is reliable; it should have reached her.
But the rumors are everywhere now; her name is linked with mine.
If the Mother Superior saw even one of those sheets…
” Her voice cracked. “I assume the worst. I must.”
Austin shook his head. “You don’t know that.”
“I know the convent rules. I know how quickly they act when scandal touches their walls.” She turned her back to him, and her shoulders sagged tiredly. “She’s alone. Terrified. And I’m here, married to a duke, playing at being respectable while she faces ruin.”
He exhaled through his nose. “You did what you could.”
“But it wasn’t enough.”
Austin felt guilty for keeping another secret from her. The letter he had received from Penelope proved that she was alive and well, but he received that a few days ago, and who knows what could have happened to her since then.
“You’re still breathing fire at me,” he said quietly. “That gives me hope.”
She looked up at him then, lips twitching slightly. “I don’t want to fight with you. Not tonight.”
“Then don’t.” He stepped closer to her, slowly, giving her room to retreat, and yet she didn’t. “Tell me what you do want.”
Deena wrapped her arms around herself again. “I want an equal marriage. Not… whatever this is. You treat me like a little sister you must protect. Like I’m fragile.”
Austin chuckled, and Deena’s brows snapped together. “What’s so funny?”
“Dee, not a single bone in my body sees you as a sister.” His voice dropped. “And you know it.”
Color rushed into her cheeks, and he admired her for a second before he moved to the far side of the library and poured himself a drink.
“That’s not—”
“Isn’t it?” He took a sip and felt the burn of the brandy. He needed to restrain himself in her presence. “I want to protect you, yes. But you felt exactly how un-brotherly my feelings. You tasted it. You moaned my name while my fingers were inside you. Don’t pretend you didn’t.”
Deena’s breath hitched. “I’m not pretending—”
“You want equal?” He lifted his glass to her. “Then stop hiding behind ‘little sister’ and ‘protecting me’ and admit what you really want.”
She trembled a little, and he watched the frame of her body beneath the gown. “I want us to go back to how we started. When we were allies or friends. Not… this tangle of guilt and secrets and—” She gestured helplessly between them. “—endless fights!”
Austin let out a bark of laughter. “Those last days at Greystone weren’t just fights, Deena.”
“I know what they were,” she snapped back. “That’s why we should forget them.”
“Forget them?” He moved closer to her, and she backed up until the back of her legs hit against his oak table.
He braced one arm next to her and placed his brandy on the other side.
He did not touch her, but he stayed close enough that she would feel the heat of him.
“You want me to forget the way you arched into my hand? The way you whispered my name like a prayer. The way you came apart for me so sweetly, I nearly lost my mind. You want me to forget all of that now? When you’re living in my manor as my wife? ”
Her breathing had gone shallow. “Austin, stop.”
He let out a low, throaty laugh. “Why should I when you clearly don’t want me to?” His free hand lifted, and he traced the line of her throat with his fingertips. Deena let out a soft moan. “Are you afraid you’ll want more, Deena?”
She swallowed. “I’m afraid of what this will turn into. I want to go back to the way we were before… any of this began. Please.” She looked up at him helplessly, and his heart lurched.
“And how were we before?” he asked with a raised brow.
“We were friends,” she said simply.
Austin did not hate the idea of them being allies even in marriage, but he did not like it either.
He backed away from her reluctantly. He had to remind himself that his main concern was to protect her from her blackmailer.
He could be anyone, and he could be anywhere.
Austin gritted his teeth and pushed aside every distracting thought.
“I’m not going to pretend I don’t want you, Dee.
I’m not going to pretend I haven’t spent every night imagining you in my bed.
Under me. On top of me. Against the wall.
In every room of this house. But if friendship is what you desire, if that’s what you need.
I’ll be your ally. Your…friend. And your husband in name only. If that’s what you truly want.”
Deena stared up at him, eyes glistening. “You’d do that?”
“For you?” He looked at her intensely. “Yes.”
Silence stretched between them.
Then Deena whispered, “I don’t know what I want.”
Austin exhaled, picked up his drink, and downed it. “We’ll figure out, Dee.”
She searched his face for a long moment. “Together?”
He grinned at her then. “Of course, you’re my wife now. We’ll do everything together.”
Deena rolled her eyes, smoothing her skirts with shaking hands. “I should… go to bed.”
“I’ll walk you up,” Austin said without hesitation.
They moved through the quiet house together, past the darkened drawing-room, up the wide staircase, and down the corridor lined with ancestral portraits that watched them pass in silence. At her door Deena hesitated.
“Austin?”
He stopped beside her and wondered briefly if she’d invite him in. “Yes?”
“Thank you,” she said softly. “For… everything.”
Austin reached out, brushed a stray curl from her cheek and silently promised to always watch over her. “Get some sleep, Duchess.”
Her breath caught at the title.
“Goodnight,” she whispered and entered her chamber.
Austin looked at her between the spaces of her door and smiled.
“Goodnight... friend.”
I’m married.
The word felt foreign, like an unworthy garment that didn’t quite fit yet.
Deena rose, bathed, and her new housekeeper, who happily took on the role as her own personal lady’s maid as well, Mrs. Mildred, dressed her in a simple morning gown of dove-grey muslin.
She was a quiet woman, and she was gentle with her hands.
Austin confessed that she was excited to finally have a Duchess in the Windemere estate, and she insisted on taking care of Deena personally.
“Thank you, Mrs. Mildred.” Deena looked at herself in the mirror and smiled.
“You are most welcome, Your Grace.” The elderly woman curtsied before she left.
Deena took a minute to catch her breath before she went downstairs to the breakfast parlor. Her stomach twisted not just from hunger, but from the knowledge that she would see Austin. Alone. With no guests around them. Just them, and their heated memories.
We are friends now.
She stopped and reminded herself before she entered his breakfast room.
Austin was already there, seated at the head of the table, newspaper folded beside his plate, coffee steaming in a porcelain cup.
He looked up the moment she entered. His gaze flicked over her, quick, appreciative, and lingering just long enough on the soft swell of her breasts beneath the muslin before settling on her face with unmistakable heat.
God help me.
“Good morning, Duchess,” Austin said, rising to pull out the chair beside him rather than across the table. His voice was low and intimate and the title felt like a caress wrapped in velvet.
Deena’s stomach flipped. She managed a small nod. “Good morning, Duke.”
“You mean Velvet Duke.” He winked at her and she scowled at him.
Austin waited until she sat. Their fingers brushed against each other’s briefly and Deena felt the heat that stayed behind on her bare skin. He sat so close to her that their knees brushed beneath the table, and he made no move to shift away.
A footman poured her tea without being asked, and Deena wrapped her hands around the cup, grateful for the distraction.
A tense silence stretched for several heartbeats between them.
Austin broke it first. “I thought you might prefer it if I gave you some space today. Time to settle in. Get used to the house. Spend the morning with your family when they arrive.”
The words were perfectly reasonable and considerate. Exactly what a gentleman should say to a bride rushed into marriage under scandal’s shadow.
But a part of her didn’t want space.