Chapter 11
Chapter Eleven
“ H ave you received much correspondence since you arrived here?” Nancy asked sweetly, after taking a sip of her tea.
“A bit,” Cecilia replied.
It was a relief to have her best friend here. Since that night in the dining room, when she had forgotten herself entirely with Ian, she and the duke had been avoiding each other for nearly an entire week. It had been quite lonely, though she was loath to admit it.
“Mostly from you,” Cecilia continued. “And of course, Mother wrote, as well.”
“And Zachary,” Nancy said.
Cecilia looked over at her, surprised. “How do you know that?” she asked.
Nancy flushed. “He mentioned it to me,” she said. “We ran into each other when my mother and I were promenading in the park, and I told him that I was going to visit you. He misses you. Are you planning to write him back soon?”
Cecilia pursed her lips. She took another sip of tea and sighed. “In truth, I do not know what to put on the paper,” she admitted. “I fear I am still too angry with him to know what to say.”
“Angry with him?” Nancy asked, a delicate crease between her light brows. “For what?”
“For this,” Cecilia said, her tone disgruntled. She gestured at the air. “For sending me here.” She looked down at her wedding ring. “For marrying me off to the worst kind of rake, despite all of my protestations to the contrary.”
“Oh, Celie.” Nancy tilted her head, looking at her friend with the most pleading expression on her face. “You must forgive him that, surely?” she asked.
Cecilia stared into her teacup as she took a sip. “Must I?” she muttered.
“He was only doing what he thought best,” Nancy said cautiously. “And is it truly all that bad, to be married?” She gestured at their resplendent surroundings. “You are a duchess now, after all. The estate is truly beautiful.”
Cecilia fell quiet for a moment, looking around at their surroundings. “Yes,” she said quietly. “I suppose it is.”
Nancy smiled sweetly, and nodded, though there was some hesitance on her face.
Cecilia, noticing, bent her head to catch her friend’s gaze. “What is it, Nancy?”
Nancy looked at her cup of tea on her lap. “Well,” she said. “I was a bit surprised to hear from you so soon after the wedding. That I was the first person you wanted to see.”
Cecilia could not help but laugh at that. “Don’t be silly. Who else would I rather see?”
“Well. Apart from your husband…” Nancy hesitated. “I have been fearful you might forget me,” she confessed. “Now that you rank so highly. I imagine you will be receiving all sorts of invitations from ladies of a similar rank. I thought perhaps you might no longer wish to be my friend.”
“Nancy.” Shaking off her surprise, Cecilia put her cup down and leaned forward to take her friend’s hand. “Nothing would ever make me forget you. You are my best friend, and the very finest of best friends, at that.”
Nancy smiled at her. “I am relieved to hear it.” She squeezed Cecilia’s hand back. “Well, then, as your friend I will tell you what I think about it all.”
Cecilia lifted a brow. “Oh?” she asked, smiling slightly. “And what is it you think about it all, mighty Miss Banfield?”
“Well, Your Grace …” They both giggled at the sound of her new title. Nancy finally cleared her throat, and continued, “I think you should write your brother back.” Before Cecilia could protest, Nancy raised a hand and continued, “I understand you being angry with him, but it is no good to have those sorts of squabbles between family. Family is all we have, and can be gone all too soon. You and I both know that.”
“Yes,” Cecilia said. Immediately, thoughts flooded her head of the loss of her father. “You are right.” She looked off into the distance for a long time, then shook her head with resolve. “And, anyway, it is not really Zachary I am angry with. I know it is not his fault, not really. It is the duke that is to blame.”
“What is my fault again?” a new voice asked.
Both women nearly leaped to their feet. Nancy bowed deeply. “Your Grace!” she exclaimed.
Cecilia’s bow was somewhat colder. “Husband.” She kept her voice cool, though she could not deny her heart fluttered at the sight of him.
“Wife.” Ian matched her tone and inclined his head genteelly. “Miss Banfield,” he said, more gently.
That was no surprise; even such a terrible rake as her husband could not help but be kind to a girl as sweet as Nancy. Though, Cecilia realized, there was no flirtation in his voice, none of the customary rakish charm she had come to expect from him. Was he really taking his vows of fidelity seriously, then? “It is a delight, as always.”
“Thank you for hosting me,” Nancy said fervently. “I am most grateful. You have a truly beautiful home.”
“Yes, yes,” he said. “Somewhat busier, as of late.”
“Oh!” Nancy cried out. Her hand fluttered to her cheek. “I do hope I am not imposing.”
“Not at all,” Cecilia said firmly. She reached out and placed a hand on her friend’s shoulder. “I invited you, Nancy, don’t be silly. Besides, as our mothers say, it is always a blessing to have guests. Never an imposition. And, speaking of guests,” Cecilia said, nodding her head at the man who had entered with Ian. “Who is yours?”
“Ah. Yes. This is Mr. Pendleton,” Ian said, clapping the other man on the back. “My fencing instructor.”
The instructor bowed. “Your Grace. Miss Banfield.” They returned his greeting with a curtsy.
“I see.” Cecilia nodded. Then she turned back to face her husband. “May I inquire then as to why you are not fencing inside, husband, as is the usual custom?”
Ian tilted his head. “For starters,” he said, his calm and pleasant tone belied by the fire in his eyes, “this is my house. As such, I shall train wherever I please, as I have always done. And, secondly, on this particular day, I merely thought it prudent to take advantage of the weather. Same as you two are doing, I see. It has been a long time since tea has been held in this garden.”
Cecilia crossed her arms and stared him down. When he did not budge, she leaned back, raising her brows. “Well,” she replied, “the weather is excellent. And it is our house, after all. I shall have tea wherever I please.”
She locked his gaze for another moment. The look in her eyes brought her back to a not-entirely-unwelcome memory of last night. How he had looked at her, just like that, with that same unbridled passion, before kissing her against the wall.
She cleared her throat, and shook her head, tearing her gaze away from him to look back at Nancy. “That said, I do believe we ought to finish our tea indoors, Nancy. Rather a sudden influx of bees and other pests, would not you agree?”
Nancy nodded, though hesitantly, eyes wide as she looked back and forth between the two.
“Whatever you would like,” Ian said, before nodding at Pendleton. “Shall we?”
As they parted ways with the men and began to walk back inside, Nancy turned to Cecilia with a hushed voice. “Goodness, Cecilia, forget forgiving your brother. If anything, I should think you ought to thank him. You could do much worse than to be married to a man like that.”
“I have not the faintest idea of what you could be referring to,” Cecilia replied, trying to keep her tone even.
“I mean only to say that…well. You must admit, he is quite pleasing to look at, is he not?”
“Why, Nancy!” Cecilia said, grateful to have a moment to tease her best friend. “Do not tell me your eye has been taken by the duke! Whatever shall I tell my brother?”
Nancy giggled. “Oh, don’t make fun, Cecilia.”
“You make it so easy!”
“You must admit you are a well-matched pair,” Nancy said.
“I will admit no such thing,” Cecilia replied firmly.
They walked into the parlor, which, though it lacked the clement weather of the outdoors, still at least afforded them a lovely view of the garden.
“However,” Cecilia finally continued as they sat down, “I will say that I at least appreciate your continued attempts to search for some silver lining to my situation.”
As they walked further into the room, Nancy gasped, clapping her hands together beneath her chin. “Oh!” she exclaimed.
Cecilia followed her gaze to the instrument in the corner of the room.
“Cecilia, that must be the most beautiful pianoforte I have ever seen,” Nancy said, her voice bubbling with excitement.
“Yes.” Cecilia smiled at her friend’s enthusiasm. “It is in tune, I believe, though I have not touched it much. How have your lessons been coming along?”
Nancy’s face fell slightly, and she shrugged dejectedly. “I have not had much time for them, I am afraid,” she confessed. “All of the excitement lately has not left any time for it.”
As they continued to chat, Cecilia found her gaze continuing to drift outside the window.
There was no denying Ian’s prowess as an athlete. Every movement conveyed strength and agility; his movements were smooth, and practiced, while also showing off ferocity. He had already disarmed his instructor twice in the short time since they had begun their sparring, and he somehow had yet to have been disarmed himself.
As they continued fighting, his shirt clung to him, damp with exertion and with the heat of the pounding sun overhead. Eventually, he held up his hand. The two men paused in their sparring. Ian began to unbutton his shirt.
Though at first she had looked only reluctantly, Cecilia now found herself unable to look away as, button by button, the strong planes of his chest were exposed. When he reached the bottom of the row of buttons, he shrugged the shirt off, revealing his equally muscular arms, ripping with each movement.
“Cecilia!”
Cecilia came to. “Hm?”
She looked over at Nancy, who had her hand in the air, as though she had just been waving at her. “Are you all right? Whatever are you looking at?”
“Nothing!” Cecilia said, too quickly, before clearing her throat. “Nothing at all. Just—enjoying the view of the gardens.”
Nancy followed her gaze and giggled. “Ah,” she said coyly, raising an eyebrow at Cecilia. “Yes. The gardens. Nothing else?”
“Nothing else.” Cecilia turned bodily away from the window, reluctant as she was to stop looking at the beautiful view. All of those muscles moved even more spectacularly when he was once again sparring. “Forgive my distraction. How are things between you and Zachary? Has he made any more progress in courting you?”
Nancy’s smile fell from her face. “I am afraid not,” she said quietly. “Apart from our brief encounter in the park. It seems his attention has been much diverted—understandably so, of course, given all of the excitement with the wedding and all. I certainly would not expect anything else. Perhaps you overestimated his affection for me, Cecilia.”
“Nonsense.”
Nancy shrugged. Seeing that her friend was still a bit downtrodden, Cecilia clasped her hands together gently. “Nancy. Would you do me a favor?”
Nancy looked up. “Anything, Celie.”
“Would you play a bit of pianoforte for me? As I said, I have been neglecting it terribly, and I would hate for the poor thing to go out of tune or collect dust.”
Immediately Nancy’s face brightened. “Oh, that is no favor at all! I would absolutely love to.”
As she went over to the pianoforte and began playing, Cecilia could not help but steal just one more glance at the window. As before, Ian moved strikingly, every movement purposeful and stunning as though he were some majestic cat on the prowl. The sun glinted off the sweat on his shoulders, highlighting further the contours of his well-developed muscles.
Nancy’s beautiful music continued in the background, providing accompaniment to this display of strength and grace. As her thoughts continued to return, again and again, to the events of last night—to the heat of his touch; the size of him, the form; how desperately she had wanted him to do anything and everything he wanted to her—Cecilia was frustrated by how she simply could not shake the duke from her mind.
She needed a project. Something to take her mind off such inconvenient places.
As the music came to a stop, Cecilia sat up straighter in her seat. “Nancy! That was wonderful, and even better, I have an idea!”
Nancy swiveled on the piano stool to face her. “What is it?”
“I am going to host a musical evening. Here, at the estate.” She stood up and crossed the room to Nancy. “And you must agree to play.”
“Play for an audience, you mean?” Nancy’s cheeks reddened at once. “Oh, Cecilia…I do not know.”
“It will be a most intimate crowd. Friends and family. An evening to socialize and relax. And, most importantly, if you play the pianoforte, Zachary will have no choice but to bring his attention back to you! It is a most perfect and brilliant plan.”
“What if I embarrass myself!” Nancy cried. Cecilia took her hands.
“You will not,” she said certainly. “I have never heard you sound anything but beautiful on the pianoforte. If you do not wish for Zachary to come, fine; I shall not invite him. But it would mean a great deal to me for you to lend your musical talents to the night. It will be the first event I host as the new duchess, after all. I so dearly wish for it to be a success.”
Finally, Nancy smiled. “I would love to contribute to your first event as a duchess,” she gushed, squeezing Cecilia’s hands back. “And of course, you must invite your brother. But do not have your hopes up that he will pay any sort of attention to me, Cecilia.”
“Don’t you worry about that,” Cecilia spun around, pleased with herself. “I shall take care of everything. Do you think next week is too soon? I need to draw up a guest list, send out invitations, plan decorations and food…”
“Oh, yes!” Nancy said, growing animated at the prospect of such an event. She continued, “You know, Mother hosted a musicale just last season—perhaps I shall ask her to write you with advice?”
Cecilia walked Nancy to the door, as the two of them continued to chatter excitedly about the evening in store.
After she waved goodbye to Nancy, she turned around—and nearly walked into her husband.
Her infuriatingly handsome, glistening, and very shirtless husband.
If she had thought Ian was distracting through the window, it was nothing compared to how it felt to be so close to him while he was wearing such little clothing. Up close, the contours of his muscles were even more well-pronounced. She could better appreciate his height from this proximity, as well, observing how his muscles stretched from the proud line of his shoulders, all the way down to the hard, flat planes of his stomach, and lines that disappeared into the top of his trousers.
“Tea is over already?” While the words he was saying were common, and unremarkable, there was a devious edge to his tone that set her loins on fire. A small smirk rose to his lips as his eyes raked over her. She tried not to flush at the expression on his face—and, more pressingly, the thought of how those lips had felt against hers. “Whatever did you do to chase Miss Banfield away so soon?”
Cecilia cleared her throat. “I will be hosting a musicale here, at the estate next week.”
“Oh? Is that so?” Ian raised an eyebrow. “I suppose you have forgotten the small detail of asking me first?”
“Why should I have to ask you?”
“I am the lord of the estate, for one thing.”
“And I am the lady of the estate,” she retorted. “I would have thought you would be glad, to hear I am taking my duties as duchess seriously. After all, this is a marriage of convenience, is it not?”
He paused, eyes raking over her in a way that sent a shiver down her spine. She half hoped he would kiss her again, would do more than kiss her… Instead, he shook his head abruptly. “Why do you want to do this?”
She folded her arms. “It is what wives do.” When he did not respond, merely narrowing his eyes, she tilted her head, and sweetened her tone further. “I promise I will not get in the way of your day to day activities,” she said. “And besides, I think you will enjoy the event. You have the pianoforte in the parlor already, after all.”
Ian paused. “It was my mother’s,” he said stiffly.
Cecilia’s smile dimmed. “Ah,” she said. “I see.” She chewed on her lip, searching for words to say. “I will not do anything you do not wish, my lord,” she finally said, keeping her tone gentle. “But it would bring me great joy to do this.”
Ian sighed but held his hands up in surrender. She could not help but glance at the movement of the muscles in his arms and shoulders as he did so. “Fine. If only because I know you would annoy me to death if I attempted to stop you.”
“Finally, a point which I concede to you,” she replied, a smile of victory rising to her lips. “Have a good evening, my lord.”
With that, she took off briskly down the hall. But even as she resisted the urge to look back, she could have sworn she felt his eyes following her, heating her through to her very core.
There were no footsteps, so she knew he was not following her.
But she would have been lying if she said she did not wish he would.