Chapter 22
After their stomachs were full, Royce gave Della a very thorough tour of their new home, making sure to point out little hiding areas where they might partake in certain amorous activities.
“Thank you for today.” Della smiled at Royce as she followed him into the study. “I can imagine you have important business to see to. So, I think I shall just go explore the garden since I have yet to see it except from the window of our room.”
“Della, have you forgotten about your surprise?” Royce asked.
“No, I just thought it could wait if you needed to work.”
“Work can wait.“ Royce walked behind his desk, taking a small key out of his breast pocket, and unlocked a drawer that contained a fat stack of documents. Sitting atop of those documents was another key with a bow tied around it. He tossed the key up and caught it as he slid the door closed.
“Just so you know, should Mr. Milby stop by needing information and I am not here, that is where all the documents regarding this house are located. This, however—”he said holding up the key with the bow—“is yours.”
“What does this go to? You have shown me every room in this house.”
“Every room…except one.” Royce’s eyes flicked to his left.
Following his gaze, Della’s eyes landed on a set of bookshelves, which looked like many others she had seen. Their shelves held beautiful leather-bound books of all shapes, sizes, and colors, but nothing about them stood out.
“Is this a puzzle I am to solve?” Della asked, wondering what he could be smiling about.
Royce merely shrugged his shoulder in amusement. Della inspected each shelf, picking up books and baubles in search of whatever she was supposed to find.
She systematically worked her way down from the top—using the ladder provided, of course—and was just about to replace two books at the end of the middle row when she spotted a brass plaque against the back, hidden in the shadows.
Setting the books in her hands down on the table next to her, she leaned in closer to examine the plaque. Not seeing a handle, Della reached out, and noticed that with a swipe of her finger the plaque easily swung side to side like a pendulum.
Moving the plaque to the left, Della held it in place as she looked even closer and noticed a hole that was the perfect size and shape for the key Royce had given her. Grabbing the key from where it lay on the shelf, she placed it in the lock and twisted it to the right.
Nothing happened, so she turned it to the left and heard something akin to the sound of a clock being wound up.
The bookshelves popped open just enough to allow a sliver of light to pour through a tiny gap that had appeared between them. Royce swung the bookshelves open like doors and stepped to the side, allowing Della to peer into the room that lay beyond.
Hues of green, blue, purple, and gold greeted her, a colorful contrast from where they stood in the study. Across the room, Della could see windows reaching from floor to ceiling, letting the sunlight filter in as they looked out over the gardens she had yet to explore.
The curtains were pulled back, exposing a set of doors leading out onto a terrace with a marble balustrade wreathed in a riot of roses. And a chair covered in the same fabric as the drapes sat facing a blue settee, with a gold-footed table between them.
“What is this?” Della asked in absolute awe.
“That is a good question. When I bought this house, I went over everything in excruciating detail with my solicitor—every room, every closet, every creak in the floor, but one mystery remained.” Royce reached around the bookshelf and pulled out the key. “We did not know what this key went to. We searched and searched and asked the seller of the home if he knew, but he said the old man would only speak in riddles and never gave an actual answer.”
Royce motioned for Della to walk ahead as he continued talking.
“Naturally, it bothered me, so I searched for anything that it might go to. Then one day, I was going through the old books on these shelves. I brought several of these books with me, but the gentleman who owned the house insisted his books stayed with the house. Simply told the seller it added character.
“A few books fell over as I attempted to put them back on the shelves when I heard metal scraping. That is when I found the plaque and discovered that the key led to this long-forgotten room. I had not noticed it in my search outside the house because the windows and door had been so overgrown with vines and ivy, I thought it was just a wall.”
“What was in here?” Della asked as she continued to look around.
“There was nothing, really. Just some old brig-à-brac, family portraits, and documents. I showed Maggie, and she is the one who suggested I turn this into a room specifically for you.”
“Oh!” Della squeaked as Royce snaked his arms around her.
“Do you like it?” he whispered in her ear.
“I love it!” She laughed, tilting her head back to look up at the ceiling; even that was elegantly decorated. Della’s eyes traced over the walls and furnishings, honored that Royce and Maggie had done this for her.
Royce’s hands moved up her body, traveling from her stomach, up between her breasts and finally to the side of her face as he leaned in for a kiss.
“Ahem.”
Della jumped at the sound of someone clearing their throat and looked over to see Giles averting his eyes as he placed a tray laden with tea and cakes on the table.
“Is there anything else I can get you, Your Graces?”
Royce did not say a word as he dismissed Giles with a nonchalant wave, causing Della to laugh into their kiss as he guided his hands down to grab her backside.
“I truly love it, Royce, thank you. I will have to thank Maggie as well.”
“Yes, in a day or two.”
“A day or two? Do we have plans?” Della asked, curious.
“As a matter of fact, we do.” Royce sat on the settee, pulling her down to straddle his legs.
Della leaned in and kissed Royce with everything she was worth. The happiness she felt inside, knowing he was hers, gave her hope that one day, he would come to love her as much as she loved him.
But even if that love never came, she could share moments like this with him, and maybe that would be enough.
Over the next several days, neither Della nor Royce ventured much beyond the confines of their bedroom, choosing to have food brought up to them. The few times they had left, they had taken walks in the garden.
One walk had turned into a spontaneous game of tag, and she had lost horribly, which resulted in her owing Royce a boon at a time of his choosing.
They played cards by the fire and chatted about nothing and everything while consuming a shameful amount of desserts. But inevitably, they would end up wrapped in each other’s arms as they fell into bed.
Della was sure she could go on like this forever, but life and responsibilities had a way of sneaking up on one when all one wanted was for them to disappear.
Della swung her knees over the side of the bed and reached for her robe, but her fingers were only greeted with the wooden hook where it usually hung. Glancing around the room, she spotted it discarded in a heap with various other garments by the fireplace. She got up to retrieve it, but her attempt to get out of bed did not go unnoticed. A large hand slid up her side, cupped her breast, and pulled her back into bed.
“Royce, we have to get out of bed eventually,” Della laughed.
“Must we?” he asked, kissing her on the shoulder.
“I am afraid we must. We received a letter from your mother yesterday as a reminder that we are to attend the Marquess and Marchioness of Stilton’s ball tonight.”
Royce sighed as he rolled onto his back. “Are we to be thrown to the vultures so soon?”
Della smacked his chest playfully. “And they say women are dramatic.” She paused and took a deep breath before continuing. “I will admit I am terrified that people will say I should not be the one walking into the ballroom on your arm, but rather Emma. They will say I tricked you into marrying me and not her.”
“Della, we know what truly happened, and that is all that matters; and when did you start calling Miss Putnam, Emma?”
“When she and I talked after our wedding ceremony.”
“Is that why it took you so long to return to me?”
“Yes,” Della said guiltily. “We have become friends…I think.”
“And you did not think to mention this to me?”
“I am sorry. I meant to tell, but it was our wedding day, and I was preoccupied with other things.”
Royce smirked. “What did she say?”
“She said she harbored no ill will against us and that she had been intentionally horrible to persuade you to call of your impending engagement.”
“Why would she do that?” Royce asked, looking confused.
“Because she had fallen in love with someone else.” Della looked straight at Royce as she said those words; when he said nothing, she continued. “But I am afraid she will end up heartbroken, as her father is sending her to Scotland to live with some distant relatives. I feel terrible knowing that we are partly to blame.”
“As do I, but as my mother said, what was done cannot be undone. I hope that Miss Putnam can find happiness away from her horrible father,” Royce said, sitting up. “Tonight, will be our first ball as the Duke and Duchess of Exeter, and our families will be there to show they support our marriage. If it gets to be too much, tell me, and I will bring you home.” He kissed her enticingly. “I will bring you up here and make you scream my name over and over until you remember it is only you and me in this marriage and no one else.”
Royce laid back down and pulled Della on top of him, her breasts plumping as she lay against his chest. Della smiled wickedly as she bent down and lightly bit his nipple. As Royce flailed and fought with the covers, Della quickly spun over the side of the bed and dashed across the room, her bare feet slapping against the cold floor.
Royce freed himself and swiftly lunged toward her, attempting to swat her bottom. “Next time…I will not miss,” he jokingly declared.
“Who said there will be a next time?” Della teased and laughed as she ran to the safety of their dressing room.
Royce stood in the corner; his glare focused on the Marquess of Stilton swirling Della around the ballroom floor. She smiled at him as they chatted through their twists and turns, causing Royce to wonder what the man had said to make Della blush.
“Brooding, are we?” Aden tsked as he appeared, holding a glass of champagne.
“I am not one to brood. I am merely standing in a corner watching my wife,” Royce scowled.
“I stand corrected,” Aden said sarcastically, taking a sip of his champagne. “It serves no purpose staring like you want to place a dagger into the man’s back. Especially not when he is hosting this ball. The Marquess of Stilton is a good man—a married man—who is infatuated with his wife and our friend. He is doing you a favor by dancing with Della, what with it being your first ball as a married couple. And you know he is an excellent ally to have in your corner.”
“That does not mean I have to like it,” Royce grumbled under his breath.
“No, but it proves that you have greater feelings for your wife than you care to admit.”
“What?”
“You, my friend, are in love with your wife,” Aden said, taking another sip. “Otherwise, you would not be over here acting as you are.”
Royce sighed. “It is true I care for Della a great deal more than I ever expected to care for the woman I married,” he admitted. “But I do not love her…I cannot.”
“Do not and cannot, are not the same. You do love her, but you will not allow yourself to admit it,”Aden stated, handing his empty glass to a passing servant. “I do not pretend to know why you are so opposed to saying you love Della when it is so blatantly obvious.”
“If I told her and something happened, what then?” Royce asked.
“Then something happens, but at least she would know.” Aden shrugged his shoulder. “Do not let the fear of something happening make you regret the words you did not say. If I were you, I would swallow my pride and tell her before I lost her.”
Royce leaned against the wall, his mood darkening as he watched the Marquess escort Della off the dance floor.
“Thank you for the dance, Your Grace.” The Marquess said, bowing over Della’s hand.
“The pleasure was all mine, I assure you,” Della replied.
“Your Grace, my lord.” The Marquess bowed to Royce and then to Aden before excusing himself.
“Royce?” Della looked at him questioningly.
“Ignore your husband. He has been over here brooding the entire time you have been dancing.”
“Truly? Royce, it was just a dance. The Marquess is very kind,” Della said, fanning herself as she looked out over the dance floor.
“So, what is the verdict on the newlywed couple?” Maggie asked, sauntering over to their little group.
“People will gossip, of course. They have nothing better to do with their miserable lives, but overall, it is good. Especially since we all entered together, and our sweet Della has danced with practically every lord here, including our host.” Aden glanced at Royce.
“Not brooding,” Royce said, moving closer to Della and placing a hand on the small of her back.
“Of course not.” Della patted Royce’s arm as though he were a child in the middle of a tantrum. “Maggie, I have not thanked you for my surprise! I absolutely love it, and I wanted to go into town to buy a few decorative things. Would you care to go with me?”
“Margaret did something nice for someone?” Aden asked sarcastically. “My, my, this night keeps surprising me. Even with mister broody breeches over here.”
If looks could kill, Maggie would have cut Aden down where he stood, and Royce was about to do the same.
“For your information, Lord Aynesworth, I am far kinder than you give me credit for. The only person who seems to have issues with me is you. Why do I bother you so?” Maggie asked, tilting her head to the side. “What egregious act have I committed to offend our very own Adonis?”
Royce noticed Aden tense at being referred to by the moniker the Ton had given him. He hated the name, and Maggie knew it.
“Think about what I said,” Aden whispered to Royce. “Some of us will never be so fortunate,” he grumbled bitterly, his eyes narrowing at Maggie before he stormed off.
Royce looked at Maggie. “Will you be—“
“I will be fine,” Maggie stated, cutting Royce’s question short. “I just do not understand why Aden is always in such a foul mood when I am around.” She quickly swiped away angry tears and took a deep breath. “I am so glad you like the room. I will see you tomorrow.”
“Maggie…” Della reached out a hand as Maggie left.
“Let her be. I do not know what is going on between them, but it is probably best to let them figure it out on their own,” Royce said, watching his sister leave. “This ball is growing tedious. Are you ready to go home?”
“Please.” Della nodded.
They walked over to bid the Duchess goodnight and went outside to wait for their carriage. Royce looked at Della as they stood there, thinking about what Aden had said.
He was not sure if he could ever summon the courage to speak those three words out loud…because he was afraid.
Afraid that if he did, it would mean acknowledging his life would not be complete without her, that he would always need her.
And the thought of needing someone that desperately was enough to bring him to his knees.