Chapter 6
Chapter Six
Andrew checked his pocket watch as he sat at the head of the table.
Dinner was at eight, and he had sent a reminder up to Jessamine at seven, in case she should get carried away in her duties toward the child.
There were certain expectations that they both, as duke and duchess, ought to uphold, and he would do everything in his power to ensure that happened. No matter his bride’s reluctance.
They would, on occasion, eat together. The staff expected it, and servants gossiped. Always. He had certain expectations, and he would always adhere to them.
And she was late.
Punctuality was the most basic demonstration of respect, and he felt irritation grow in his chest as he stared at the door and waited for Jessamine to appear.
Finally, ten minutes after dinner was supposed to start, she appeared in the doorway.
Andrew stood out of habit, but his mind was entirely occupied by her appearance. Her maid must have forcibly sat her down in order to curl her hair into a flurry of perfect ringlets, and her chosen gown, a soft pink, clung to her curves.
His new wife was generously apportioned. The delectable curve of her breasts showed just above the neckline of her dress, and the flare of her hips meant that her thighs pressed against the thin material of her dress.
Of course he knew she wore at least a chemise underneath. Yet his imagination still plagued him with thoughts of that soft silk sliding against soft, bare skin.
He cleared his throat. “You are late.”
“I did not want to be here at all.” She swept in a swirl of perfume to the other set place on the table. Far away from him. Good. They ought to speak about the future, and he needed his wits about him, not distracted by just how appealing his new wife was.
Damn it, Nicholas was right.
But he was not an animal.
“We are husband and wife, and dinner is a convenient time to discuss everything that must be discussed. That way, we can ensure we are always in accord when it comes to making decisions.”
She raised a brow at him, but the footmen served them, and she leaned back in her chair, falling silent again. It was only when the servants left that Andrew felt the full extent of the silence. It draped about them like a shroud.
Still, there was much to be discussed.
“Rebecca said you were close when you were both young,” she ventured.
The mention of Rebecca was a knife slicing through him, and he gripped his knife more firmly than necessary. “Indeed. How are you finding the arrangements for William?”
“Perfectly well, thank you.” Her nostrils flared, and he had the impression she was fighting herself for something before she said, “Mrs. Bragg said you had asked for the nursery to be placed beside my bedchamber. Thank you.”
“Think nothing of it.” That had been a practical arrangement that had just made sense to establish. “It will be easier for you to establish a meaningful routine with him if you are closer.”
“A meaningful routine?” Jessamine paused with her fork halfway to her mouth and stared at him. “He is a baby. His needs dictate the routine.”
“Perhaps now, but that will change over the coming weeks and months.” Andrew laced his fingers together.
“I expect we shall have many conversations about the best practices to raise a child as we learn more, but while you may have anything you desire, William will receive what he needs here. This household is one of order. I like things to happen according to a schedule, and I will teach my second cousin these things. That schedule begins now, with a strict routine of feeding and napping. At six months of age, his lessons will begin. At first, we will focus on talking, and when he can hold a pen, handwriting and arithmetic will follow. I have an itemized list.”
“Naturally.” Her mouth twitched down. “And where in that list is ‘fun?’ Or ‘freedom?’”
“Fun and freedom do not teach a boy the things he needs to know.”
“I disagree. What he needs more than anything, now and in the future, is love and freedom. Do you not want him to be happy?”
Now it was Andrew’s turn to stare at her in frustration. Freedom did not broker happiness; his brother was a perfect illustration of that. George had been a wild boy, hardly handled by his father, given all the freedom to make the mistakes he would, and he had made vast collections of them.
As the younger son, Andrew had been given far less leave to make mistakes, and he was grateful for that. It allowed his character to be built, and George had just stepped from one misery of his own creation to another.
Of course, George was his father’s golden child, capable of doing no wrong in his eyes, but that had not made either of them happy. Happiness, Andrew had long ago decided, was something no man could ever fully obtain, and it was foolish to try.
He would do his duty. And he would do said duty in far better ways than his father had ever achieved. Perhaps he would not be what the world expected of him—nor did he care to be—but he would be fair to the people who relied on him, and he would be a guiding hand in William’s life.
That was all he could ever hope for. Wanting more had been systematically forced from his system; he could not remember how it felt to want something utterly forbidden to him.
Aside from Jessamine, of course. But matters of the flesh were not the same thing as matters of the heart.
“You perhaps do not understand,” he said, but her eyes flashed, and she placed her fork down with a clatter.
“I understand perfectly. Do you think I was never a child, or I never grew up around children? I daresay I saw more children in their formative years than you have.”
“While sojourning in Scotland?”
“Don’t make it sound as though it was a charming little trip when I was essentially exiled there. I regret nothing about my life, but it was not easy.” She pushed up from her chair, and once again he stood out of habit, anger igniting in his chest.
“I never implied it was easy, but I will not have my suggestions dismissed so readily.”
“Will you not?” She stormed over to him, planting a hand on the table and leaning up to him.
If it was an attempt to intimidate, she had a lot to learn. Perhaps it wasn’t an attempt to seduce, but she was certainly enticing enough to make the success of that venture immediate.
Her lips parted, presumably in outrage, but the sight of them sent a bolt of lust right through him. She was pretty at all times, but especially now, with this new rage running through her.
“Your suggestions are a recipe for making him miserable,” she continued, magnificent in her anger, and prodded his chest with her free hand. “And I will not allow you to suffocate the poor child as he grows.”
Andrew caught her wrist, her bones so fragile in his fingers. Life in the army did not make anyone soft. And for Andrew, it had hardened him into a dozen different diamond edges, and the feel of her soft skin under his made his pulse quicken, and his mind wander to far darker and forbidden places…
Such as her lips parting, and her breath coming faster—
Andrew firmly halted that thought.
“He will not be suffocated,” Andrew said, clearly and distinctly.
“The duty and privilege of parents, as we have now become, is to shape the new generation into being the best for the Dukedom we can. I will have an heir who will do right by the people he manages. Do you suppose an estate like this is easy to handle? He must have discipline, and it will make him happier, too, in time. The happiest soldiers are the ones for whom discipline comes easily.”
“He is not a soldier,” she cried. “He is a baby.”
“Babies grow into boys, and boys grow into men.”
“What of fun, then?” she demanded, looking straight up at him.
He had the temptation to grab her chin and crush her lips with his. Would she use that bold mouth of hers to protest him then, or did she feel this same pull?
If he kissed her now, he would be tempted to lay her across the dining table and feast on her instead of the food his cook had prepared.
The force of his lust took him by surprise. Their marriage was a front, a means of providing William with a mother. They had nothing else in common.
“What of fun?” he asked, returning to the conversation.
“Young boys require fun. To be happy. Fun and laughter and love.”
“That sounds like a recipe for ill-disciplined, spoiled—”
“Ensuring William is happy is not the same as spoiling him! But a child should have the things he wants and needs.”
“The things he needs, certainly. But no one should have all the things they want all the time. That is not how life works, Jessamine. If you spoil him too much, you are setting him up to fail. Believe me, I know.”
She drew herself up to her full height, looking up at him from dizzying proximity. “I would rather he be spoiled and happy than denied, neglected, and miserable. I will not allow you to be cruel to him!”
“You—”
She raised a hand, pressing her finger to his lips. Instinctively, he quietened, shocked by the intimacy and the confidence of the gesture. Her gaze moved past him, upstairs, listening. After a moment, he caught it, too: the slight sound of a baby’s cry.
“I should go to him,” she said, stepping away. “Do not try to stop me.”
Andrew did not. he stayed where he was, motionless, as her footsteps disappeared upstairs. Then he returned to the dinner they had ruined.
Sipping his wine, he thought about the days ahead and wondered, for the first time, how well he would weather them. Or rather, if he would manage to weather them at all.
Jessamine curled her legs up in bed, pretending to read the book in her lap but really glancing at the door between her suite and Andrew’s. It remained closed. Every time she thought about what might happen if he opened it, a new thrill ran through her.
A bad thrill. One which she did actively not want.
Because she did not, under any circumstances, want Andrew to visit her tonight.
They had agreed, more or less, that he would not.
The marriage was one of convenience, and they had no immediate need for children.
There would be no reason for Andrew to sire an heir—at least, not at present—and he had made it plain that his interest in her started and ended with what she could do for William.
And even that, it seemed, was limited, given their argument earlier.
She drew her legs to her body and hugged them, book forgotten.
If he continued in this awful, high-handed way, they were going to clash even more. Rebecca would not want her son to be treated as a little soldier, created only for the purpose of commanding and expecting instant obedience.
Rebecca was no longer there to advocate for William, but Jessamine was, and she would not fail him.
She glanced across at the open door leading to William’s room. For now, he slumbered, but if this was like any of the other nights she’d spent with him, he would awaken, needing to be fed or changed or perhaps both. And she would not hesitate.
“I miss you,” she whispered to the empty room, aiming the words at Rebecca.
“How can your cousin be so very different from you? I thought he might love William, but I doubt that now. How can I continue in a marriage with a man who does not love your son? Our son,” she corrected.
“He will always be your son first. But he is mine second. I have claimed him. I will always claim him, no matter what he truly is to me. Brother or not.”
She rolled over, blowing out the candle.
Next door, she heard Andrew’s footsteps creaking away.
He was not coming to her.
Good.
“I don’t know how I will survive this marriage,” she murmured as though Rebecca were right beside her. “What on earth am I to do about that, Rebecca?”
The empty room remained silent.
And Andrew did not come to visit her.