Chapter 9

Bathed and attired in the nightdress that her maid, Beth, had chosen for her, Lydia had done everything to try and keep the maid in the room with her. She had asked Beth to stay while she ate her supper, she had asked if she might read aloud to her, she had asked to go through all of her belongings to select a dress for tomorrow, and the poor girl had obeyed at every turn, stifling yawns.

She is going to think I am quite mad.

Lydia would have laughed at her own antics if her nerves had permitted it.

"I have kept you too long, have I not?" she asked apologetically.

Beth discreetly rubbed her tired eyes. "Not at all, Your Grace. It's your first night in a new manor—you're bound to want things just so. It's my duty to learn how you like things done." She hesitated. "Do you look through your entire wardrobe every evening to pick a dress for the next day?"

"No, I cannot say I have ever done that before." Lydia swallowed a chuckle. "I want to make a good impression, I suppose."

The maid seemed relieved. "Will you be reading to me every evening? Is that something you did with your former maid?"

"Oh, I should think not." Lydia offered another apologetic smile, but the maid suddenly looked disappointed.

"Of course, Your Grace. I liked the story, is all." Beth fixed her cap. "I can't read, but my ma can. She used to tell us all sorts of tales. That's Jenny Hen."

Lydia frowned. "You call your mother Jenny Hen?"

"It's what everyone calls her," Beth replied with a shy shrug. "She's the cook here. Made that supper for you. She'll be eager to meet you, but she'll likely be baking bread about now. And you ought to be resting, Your Grace."

Lydia leaped on the opportunity. "Or I could meet her right now? I am not as weary as I thought I was."

"Your Grace, I—" Beth jumped at the sound of a knock on the adjoining door, while Lydia's heart lurched. "Ah, I ought to be going, Your Grace."

The maid hurried for the door and was out into the hallway, closing the door behind her before Lydia could muster a word of protest. There would be no late-night visit to the kitchens, no distraction to keep her downstairs until morning.

Unless…

She dove for the bed, wriggling beneath the coverlets, pulling them up to her chin and squeezing her eyes shut. A second later, the adjoining door opened, and footsteps echoed into the room.

"I know you are not asleep," William said. "That is, unless you have the ability to fall into slumber within a minute. I heard you and your maid."

She cursed silently, eking open one eye. "No, but you are disturbing the preamble to my sleep. I cannot be interrupted once the routine begins, or I shall have to start all over again."

He stood by the side of the bed in a state of undress. His waistcoat and tailcoat were gone, along with his cravat, his shirt untucked and his feet bare. More like the wolf-pirate than the stiff-backed duke she had married.

"That was not so terrible now, was it?" He moved to the end of the bed as she sat up, her charade of slumber rendered useless.

She forced a smile. "I did not have to run, after all. What a waste of a carriage, just sitting there unused."

His eyes darkened, his hand reaching up to grip the bedpost in a manner that was likely meant to be intimidating.

Lydia rolled her eyes. "It was a joke, Your Grace. Should I have no expectations of humor either?"

"Will," he replied.

She raised an eyebrow. "Will I have no expectations of humor? I do not think that is correct grammar, Your Grace."

"You keep calling me ‘Your Grace.' I am your husband. You should refer to me as ‘Will.' William is too formal, and there are no other abbreviations that I can abide."

He did not say it, but he was not asking kindly now either.

She nodded her head. "If that is your preference." She paused. "What of a pet name? I thought ‘My Darling Weasel' suited you rather well."

"Speaking of preference," he continued, ignoring her as he came back to her side of the bed, "I have been observing you today, and there are some… factors to be addressed if we are to make a success of this marriage."

Lydia tilted her chin up, annoyed. "I was not aware that I was under examination. If you had warned me, I might have studied ahead of time. How many questions can I expect for this review?"

He leaned across the bed, one powerful arm holding him up as he reached forward. She sat frozen, not knowing what to do or where he intended to touch her. Two fingertips came to rest on her lips, pressing into the soft flesh.

"As sweet as your voice is," he said, "just listen."

She nodded slowly.

"You will have the freedom you were promised," he continued, easing the pressure of his touch, his intense gray eyes holding hers. "The freedom your new title allows. But freedom always has a price."

"Everything does, according to?—"

He added a bit more pressure to his touch. "Listen. Not a word until I am done, or I shall use my lips to silence you next time."

She blinked furiously, holding her tongue.

"It will not cost you much," he carried on, "just the adherence to three simple rules. One, you will not flirt with any gentleman other than myself when we are in public. That includes dancing, smiling, laughing, teasing—all the things you do so well. In private, waltz all you like, tease until you drive a man to madness, it matters not."

I will drive youto a different sort of madness.

She fumed in silence. Who did he think he was, silencing her at all? And what on earth was wrong with her that she felt all hot and tingly at such an intrusive touch?

"Two, if you do desire to take a lover at some point, you must be discreet and cautious. Any children you bring into this world should be mine and mine alone," he said, his thumb lightly brushing her jaw in a manner that seemed accidental.

She could not be quiet at that. She would not. She was appalled by the very suggestion.

"I do not know what your experience of marriage is, Will, but I would not sully myself with an affair! It is… reprehensible! Why make a commitment at all if you are simply going to look elsewhere?"

He smiled slyly. "Forever is a long time, Lydia. Do not be foolish. We will grow bored of one another and seek attention from others. I hate to disappoint you if you believe otherwise, but it is simply how it is. It is better to become friends and have an understanding about these things, devoid of petty concerns like jealousy."

"You are merely saying this so that you may have as many affairs as you please." She could see straight through him. "Indeed, this rule is naught but a trick, for how could I even hope to find a lover if I am not permitted to dance or flirt with other men?"

Will shrugged and drew his fingertips away. "How you find a lover is none of my concern. My concern is with the discretion."

"So much for romance," Lydia scoffed, but he did not smile at that.

He sat back. "I never promised you romance. I told you, no expectations. If you thought me insincere in that regard, that is your fault. I was quite clear."

"As clear as mud," Lydia muttered, for his words and his actions were becoming a messy confusion in her mind.

In one moment, he told her to have no expectations, but in the next, he was waltzing her about the room as if no one was watching. He told her to take a lover but have no children that were not his, as if that was something she could control.

He said she would have freedom, yet he had barged into her room without permission, his knock on the door more of a vague courtesy. And how could freedom be true freedom if it came with provisos?

"And what is rule number three?" she asked coldly. "Let me guess, every morning I am to eat toast and marmalade, but I am not, under any circumstances, to swallow even a crumb of the bread. Or… I am to sleep but never rest. I am to write letters of appreciation without using a drop of ink. I am to take a walk in the fresh air every afternoon, but I must not leave the confines of the manor."

He arched an eyebrow. "Are you finished?"

"Goodness, no. I can do this all night."

"Three," he said, ignoring her. "You are never, ever to listen to the Dowager Duchess."

If she had rattled off guesses all night, she would never have struck upon the correct answer.

"Because she embarrassed you?"

Lydia could not imagine her own mother behaving in the same fashion as Will's mother, but nor could she imagine herself holding a grudge if her mother happened to imbibe a little too much.

Will's eyes flashed. "Because it is my rule."

"Eliza has been embarrassing Marina for years, but she would never forbid us from listening to her. Indeed, if several people I know did not listen to Eliza, they would not be happily married." Lydia flashed a sarcastic smile. "Perhaps I should have spoken with her myself."

Will slid his hand across the bed and caught hold of her wrist. "If you do not obey the rules, there will be consequences."

"You will take away my freedom?" She laughed bitingly. "This is not freedom, Will. I should have trusted my sister's judgment and run away, after all, because I will not sit here in your house, living my life as your puppet, following your ridiculous rules. I would rather be scorned."

He moved closer, raising her hand. Turning his head, he pressed a kiss to her wrist before returning his powerful gaze to hers. "But you are different from your sister," he whispered, his breath tickling her skin. "You enjoy being told what to do every now and then. You like being led. I know you do, kitten."

"You do not know what you are—" A soft gasp severed her sentence as his other hand gripped her thigh above the coverlets.

"When I showed you how to waltz," he purred seductively, "moved you, guided you, urged you, you liked it. You would not have if I had merely told you."

"I was… too shocked to protest," she breathed.

He smiled. "And instead of asking me to leave, that night in the library, what did you say?"

Lydia swallowed thickly. "I… do not remember."

He draped her hand over his shoulder and teased his fingertips along the bridge of her arm, caressing up the side of her neck. He held her chin lightly, smiling as he murmured, "You asked me what I was planning to do in there."

"Yes, and you stole my first?—"

He did it again, his mouth catching hers so swiftly that she had no time to draw breath. A soft, searing kiss that would have made her forget her own name, much less that she was supposed to be annoying this man so much that he annulled the marriage. But he did not stop as she had made him do the last time, his lips moving against hers, guiding her in what to do.

With every ebb and flow of his mouth, his hand gripped and relaxed on her thigh, teasing out sparks of excitement that crackled all the way to her stomach. There, butterflies fluttered, and her nerves made somersaults.

Tentatively, she kissed him back, following his lead. Like the waltz, she picked it up quickly, allowing herself to be lost in the rhythm that he was setting. A slow, sensual caress of lips one moment, a crushing press of urgency the next, keeping her on her toes.

Her arms slipped around his neck, pulling him closer despite herself. And he came willingly, urging his mighty, muscular weight against her, pushing her down onto her back. The coverlets were still between them, his body at an angle. But he soon reached for the edge of the bedlinens, tugging them down, the side of his hand brushing all the way from her bosom to her stomach as he did so.

The bubble burst.

What am I doing?

Lydia broke the kiss and slammed her palms into Will's chest. "You are wrong about me," she gasped, her head spinning. "If you can have rules, so can I."

He pushed himself up on his strong arms, still too close. "I am listening." His tongue rolled across his lower lip. "I am distracted, but I am listening."

"One, you and I will not share a bed, nor… um… be man and wife in said bed unless you stay out of other ladies' beds for at least… a month," she replied, making it up as she went along. Anything to buy herself the time she needed to no longer be his wife.

Amusement danced in his wolfish eyes. "After tonight, you mean?"

He dipped his head to kiss her again, and her hand shot out to cover his mouth.

"No, from this moment on," she rasped. "Let us see how honorable you really are."

He pulled back, and sat on his haunches, staring at her with the sort of fascination one reserved for oddities and curios. "Do not forget, it is our wedding night."

"I know," she replied, grabbing the book she had left on the side table and lifting it as she had done in the library. "And I am kicking you out. If you do not obey the rules, there will be consequences."

A dark smile played on that sensual mouth, and he got up off the bed, walking to the adjoining door. He opened it wide, and with laughter in his voice, he replied, "Very well. Let us see who breaks your solitary rule first." He paused to look at her. "I guarantee, it will be you."