Chapter 20

CHAPTER 20

When Evie dreamed of her wedding, she did not think that she would be married by a special license in one of England’s oldest and finest estates, nor did she think she would actually marry one of her brother’s closest friends.

And not just any friend, but Daniel Stanton.

She stole a glimpse at him over her glass of celebratory champagne, her breath catching in her throat as she beheld him in his full wedding regalia.

Was there ever a time he did not cause her breath to hitch in her throat? Evie could not recall such a moment.

For that morning, he had worn a dark green jacket, which was a departure from his usually more somber and austere garb. A flawless emerald the size of a robin’s egg winked from within the folds of his snowy white cravat.

Despite the more festive clothing, nothing could detract from the harsh beauty of his features. The jacket only seemed to emphasize his broad shoulders and brought out the vivid green of his eyes.

It could not be helped—she had married a devastatingly handsome man with the power to dissolve any woman’s resistance with a single smoldering, broody look.

Hers, especially.

From across the room, he seemed to notice her looking at him. A slight smile touched the corner of his lips, and he raised his glass slightly in her direction.

Get ahold of yourself!

Evie inwardly admonished herself as her knees knocked together, suddenly, inexplicably weakened with a single glance and a smile that was both secretive and hinted at many, many dark and forbidden things.

Or did it really? Perhaps she was only reading too much into these looks. After all, they had hardly talked in the days leading up to the wedding. Somehow, that did not exactly convey the message that he wanted her as much as she wanted him.

Unfortunately.

“My dear, are you all right?” Phoebe peered at her in concern. “You look a little… flushed.”

Evie tamped down the frustration and yearning that simmered just beneath the surface. She managed a reassuring smile for her best friend and shook her head.

“No, no, nothing is amiss,” she told her.

“Well, in that case, you should probably mingle a bit more with your other guests, instead of looking at your husband the whole day,” Scarlett teased her. “Although I do not blame you—he is an exceedingly fine-looking man—but you have the whole of tonight and the rest of your lives for that.”

If Evie had felt a little heated earlier, her cheeks were now burning.

“Do not tease her so,” Phoebe chastised with a knowing smile. “It is a good thing for the bride to at least like her husband.”

“Yes, yes.” Scarlett laughed. “But do spare us unfortunate souls who have yet to find our matches!”

The young ladies burst into giggles at her theatrics, and Evie finished her glass of champagne. It was much too early for her to be drinking, but since it was her wedding, some things could be overlooked.

Besides, it was just the thing she needed to boost her courage and do as Scarlett suggested. As a bride, it was only proper that she attended to their guests.

Unlike the ceremony itself, to which only close friends and family had been invited, there were slightly more people on the guest list for the wedding breakfast. Appearances must be made, after all, even if the Duke of Ashton did have a reputation for holding most of Society in scorn.

That has to change.

If there was anyone who could improve the reputation of the Duke of Ashton, then it should be his Duchess. Thus, in the next half hour, she applied herself most assiduously to the task of greeting the guests and establishing herself as the most gracious of duchesses.

To a baron with finicky tastes, she said, “Lord Horace, do have some more of this fine hot chocolate. I assure you, it is to die for.”

“Lady Wilmington.” She beamed at a countess. “I absolutely adore what you have done to the gardens of Wilmington Hall. Exquisite, I tell you!”

“Oh, Miss Warren, you must tell me where you got your bonnet,” she enthused. “It is the prettiest thing I have ever seen.”

Poor Miss Warren, who had never been praised her entire life, could only stammer her profuse thanks as Evie convinced her to come over sometime in the future for tea. By the time she had moved on to the next guest, half of the room was laughing and smiling more freely.

As Evie looked on with a smile at her handiwork, she helped herself to a cup of the hot chocolate she had exhorted Lord Horace to try.

“I had never thought that His Grace would be capable of hosting such a lively event, but it appears I was mistaken.”

Evie turned around to find Mr. Bernard Turner looking at her with a most affable smile. For that morning, he had chosen his clothes far more carefully, and his cravat even looked… all right.

“Mr. Turner!” she gasped in shock.

“Your Grace.” He bowed with unexpected poise. “Last time, our conversation was unfortunately cut short. If you will, I would like to be able to talk with you at greater length. It is so rare that I find a kindred soul who shares an interest in these little hobbies of mine.”

Evie laughed. “Mr. Turner, if these are just little hobbies of yours, then I must prepare to be awed by the things you consider with greater seriousness!”

“Such a glib tongue you have, Your Grace.” Mr. Turner joined in her laughter, wagging his finger at her. “Why, I am convinced that perhaps you might have a way with words, as well as with paints!”

“My good sir, you have yet to see my feeble attempts. You cannot possibly say that I have a way with paints.”

She could not linger with Mr. Turner, as she still had other guests she must attend to, but by the time their conversation ended, she had managed to get an invitation from him to paint together.

She had to fight back the urge to gasp in wonder as she walked away.

Painting with the Mr. Bernard Turner?

Evie could scarcely believe her good fortune!

And she knew very well who she must thank for that.

“You invited her favorite painter to your wedding breakfast?” Ethan shook his head with a look of surprise. “Careful, Ash. One might think that you care a great deal for your new bride.”

“But, of course,” Daniel drawled. “Is not a groom supposed to care for his wife?”

“I have to applaud your restraint, though,” Hudson muttered. “After all, he is still a man, and even if you do not see her that way, your Duchess can be quite charming.”

Daniel shot his reclusive friend a pointed look, but Hudson did not seem to notice it. Or care.

Good. It had better stay that way.

His grip on his glass tightened as his eyebrows drew together just the slightest bit, the dark frown noticeable only to those who knew him best. He did not know where this reaction came from—all he knew was that he did not like anyone looking at Evie that way.

Even if it was one of his oldest friends, a man he would trust with his life.

When it came to Evie, nothing really made sense anymore. She had thrown his entire world upside-down and inside-out from the moment she crashed into it.

Nothing was the same ever since, and he was still grappling with the ramifications of that.

However, he did not have very long to dwell on his thoughts because his new bride rushed over to him, her eyes wide and sparkling with some undecipherable light. Her cheeks were flushed most delectably, and her breasts were heaving from her excitement.

If they had not been surrounded by a roomful of guests, he would have snatched her into his arms and had his way with her.

Out in the gardens. In broad daylight.

A slight cough from Ethan jolted him out of his lurid fantasies and back to reality, where the object of those said fantasies was looking at him as if she just discovered that he hung the moon and the stars in the sky.

Damn it, what the hell is wrong with me?

“Mr. Turner is here,” she breathed in wonder. “It was your doing.”

Daniel did not even bother to deny it. Her enthusiasm was just so that he could not even suppress the slight smile that tugged at his lips.

“My wedding gift to you,” he told her softly.

Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw Hudson shoot Ethan a glance, and both of his friends quietly excused themselves.

Daniel snorted at that. At least they knew to do that.

“I cannot believe it!” She beamed at him. “Thank you so much!”

She threw her arms around him with such force that if Daniel had not instinctively braced himself, they might have toppled over. They were slightly out of the line of sight of most of the guests, but if they did fall over, it would have attracted some attention.

He ran his hands down her sides, finding a great deal of pleasure in the slight shudder that ran through her at his touch.

“Thank me with a kiss,” he murmured.

The shocked look in her eyes made him want to take back his words and curse himself. However, before he could do anything else, Evie had braced her delicate hands on his shoulders, stood on her tiptoes, and pressed her lips to his. She might have meant to kiss him so innocently, but there was nothing innocent about Daniel.

Not at all.

With a groan, he crushed her to him, his lips angling over hers as he devoured everything she was willing to offer him and more. He kissed her hungrily, his tongue plunging boldly into her mouth as she welcomed him with a soft moan.

Bloody hell, what is she doing to me?

With a mere kiss, she had him painfully hard with want, his desire a thick haze that clouded all logic.

She was like a flame that taunted him, dancing and flickering before him. How could he resist when it was she who now pressed herself so closely to him?

Where was his vaunted self-control when he needed it the most?

When he finally drew back from her, Evie let out a little growl of protest, and it took everything in him to keep from pressing her against the wall and hiking her skirts up to her waist.

Does she not recognize the danger she is in?Does she not realize that she should stay away from men who look at her a certain way?

Even if that man was him.

“Evie,” he groaned. “We need to see to our guests.”

The hurt look she gave him almost made him capitulate.

She gave a childish pout. “Do we have to?”

He sighed. “You know that we have to.”

If she had burst into tears, he might have thrown out the lot of them and indulged in his husbandly privileges. Fortunately, Evie had the good sense to not try because heaven only knew he did not have the fortitude to resist her.

“Fine.” She sniffed. She wriggled out of his arms and smoothed out her hair and dress.

She was about to walk back to where their guests were happily chatting and helping themselves to the feast spread out before them when she stopped and glanced at him over her shoulder.

“Shall I be expecting you in my chambers tonight?” she asked him, with a coquettish look in her eyes.

“No,” he said tightly.

“No?” Her eyebrows snapped together, and he knew that he better think about his next words.

“No,” he said with utter finality, his voice gravelly. “I cannot make the same mistake over and over again, because the next time I do, I will not stop until I finish inside you, and I cannot do that.”

A stubborn tilt of her chin. “Why not?”

“Because then, you might get pregnant, and I cannot allow that.”

The admission left him drained, but she had barely scraped off the first layer of the darkness that shrouded him. If she learned more, would she still look at him the same way?

Or would the affection in her eyes harden into cold derision?

“You know, I do not understand you at all.” She glared at him. “You claim that you married me to save me, but then you are merely condemning me to a life devoid of love and passion, after showing me just how much pleasure we could have.” She pressed her lips into a grim line. “Your Grace, I have known you to be cold, but I never thought you could be this cruel.”

He clenched his hands into fists at his sides before he could be tempted to reach out for her.

“And therein lies our problem, Evelyn,” he told her. “Pleasure might not be the only thing I show you.”

And you might learn to hate me for it even more.

“Just let it go.”

She smiled sadly at him. “As you wish, Your Grace.”

She left him with her head held high, her back ramrod straight. They had barely been married for an hour and she already possessed the aura of a true duchess.

Caroline was right—Evie would make a fine duchess. He just wished that he had not made her that way. That he was not the one to harden her heart and steal the sunshine from her smiles.

But if it was the only way to spare her from any further pain that he might inflict on her, then he supposed he could learn to live with it. Just as he learned to live with everything else.

He must.