Chapter 8

CHAPTER 8

A diminutive, white-haired woman and a tall, stately-looking man, both in their late middle years, stood waiting by the doorway.

Anna felt flustered, too hot and disheveled, and not at all ready to meet her new housekeeper and butler. There were already two lengthy ranks of servants stretching out down the steps, all eyeing her with barely concealed interest.

“Mrs. Haunt, and I believe you remember our butler, Mr. Timmins, my dear,” the Duke— Theodore— said, gesturing to the pair. “We would have had all the servants out to see you, but naturally, a great many of them are downstairs with Cook, working hard.”

“Your Grace,” Mrs. Haunt murmured, dipping into a curtsey. “I do hope you’ll find everything to your satisfaction.”

Anna swallowed hard, feeling out of place, like an uninvited guest that everybody had to be polite to.

“Thank you, I’m sure I shall,” she managed, but the woman did not smile or react in any way.

“Show Her Grace to her room to refresh herself, and then escort her back downstairs for the party,” Theodore said, his gaze already fixed elsewhere. “The guests will be arriving soon.”

“Of course. This way, Your Grace,” Mrs. Haunt said, motioning for Anna to follow her.

It took Anna a moment to realize that the housekeeper was addressing her . It was an odd feeling, and one she did not think she would ever get used to.

The small woman set off, her heels clacking on the stone floor, and Anna scrambled to keep up.

“Your quarters are in the west wing, Your Grace,” Mrs. Haunt said, leading the way towards a wide, red-carpeted flight of stairs. “The same wing as Lady Katherine’s. It was His Grace’s request.”

“Yes, of course.”

“His Grace, naturally, sleeps in the gentlemen’s wing—the east wing,” she added, glancing over her shoulder at Anna, who carefully said nothing.

It was fairly normal for a duke and duchess not to share a bedroom, wasn’t it?

The house was huge, much larger than she remembered from her mad dash around the place only a week ago, and the west wing was entirely new.

Mrs. Haunt stopped abruptly before a door marked The Chrysanthemum Room .

“After you, Your Grace,” she said, deferentially stepping back.

Anna did not think she was going to get used to this treatment, but she smiled weakly anyway and stepped inside.

The room was gorgeous. The windows were large, facing the gardens, and let in plenty of light despite the clouds. Rain drummed rhythmically on the glass, an almost soothing sound.

The carpets were thick, and most of the fabrics and materials in the room were a pale shade of blue or purple. To her surprise, Anna noticed her much-used writing desk standing in the corner.

“My things are already here,” she said, not able to hide the surprise in her voice.

Mrs. Haunt nodded. “Yes, Your Grace. Your writing desk has not, of course, been touched. I will be most happy to tidy up your correspondence and such, with your permission.”

As her eye fell on the writing desk, Anna realized with a horrible sinking feeling that she had entirely forgotten to burn Henry’s letter.

Idiot! What if somebody finds it and reads it?

She was grateful that Mrs. Haunt hadn’t taken it upon herself to go through her letters.

She wandered over to the desk, located the incriminating letter, and stuffed it up her sleeve. She would have to destroy it as soon as possible, and until then, best not to leave it lying in a drawer with a broken lock, where anybody could read it.

“No, no, thank you. I can manage myself. Thank you, Mrs. Haunt, this is lovely.”

The housekeeper gave her a quick, tight smile, so quick that Anna thought she might have imagined it.

Perhaps I can manage here, after all.

By the time Anna made her way downstairs, the party was in full swing. She was greeted by cheers and applause when she first stepped onto the black-and-white tiles of the huge ballroom.

She stood awkwardly, not entirely sure what she should do.

At that moment, the Duke— Theodore— stepped through the crowd toward her. He didn’t seem to have to zig-zag through the guests, or shoulder people aside. They just moved .

“There you are, my dear,” he said, flashing her a tight smile. “The dancing is about to begin. Shall we?”

He extended his hand, and Anna took it. Her mouth had gone dry all of a sudden. She should have asked Mrs. Haunt for a glass of water before she came downstairs.

“Of course, husband,” she responded in a voice that seemed suitably cool and refined for a duchess.

The crowd parted like magic, revealing a large, empty space in the middle of the ballroom. The musicians sat or stood on a low wooden podium nearby, poised expectantly. The balls and dances Anna had gone to were very different—the musicians played, and she danced or not as she chose. Here, it was clear that not a note would be played until she and Theodore had taken their places on the dance floor.

Not even then, it seemed. Theodore turned to face her, twisting his arm gracefully to spin her towards him, and placed a hand on her waist. Then he glanced over at the musicians, and the music began.

A waltz. Of course, a waltz.

It had been a while since Anna had danced properly, but her feet seemed to remember the rhythm, and with no other dancers on the floor, there was plenty of room.

She was entirely too close to Theodore, of course. There was a vibrant red pin on his cravat—a ruby, most likely—and it was at eye level. She stared at it for a moment or two, trying to ignore the feel of his hand on her waist, firm and warm, and their entwined hands. Her other hand rested on his shoulder, as form dictated, and it seemed that he was as big and strong as his figure implied.

“It is a nice pin, isn’t it?” he said in a low voice, after a minute or two of dancing. “It’s going to look odd if the bride doesn’t look her husband in the eye at least once, though.”

She flushed. “I beg your pardon. It’s been a while since I danced. Why is nobody else joining us?”

“Because we’re the bride and groom, of course,” he answered, sounding confused. “They’ll join in halfway through the dance, I guess. I promised Kitty she could watch one dance, then it’s off to bed with her.”

The mention of the word bed —any bed—made Anna shiver. She resolutely forced away the thought and tilted her head back to look him in the eye. He was watching her, an expression of cool amusement on his face.

That feeling coiled in her gut again, desire and anxiety and something else that worried her.

“Are you much of a dancer, then?” she said, at last.

He smiled wryly. “Not if I can help it.”

There was more silence after that. A few more couples joined them on the dance floor, then some more, until Anna did not feel like the center of attention anymore. Even so, it was a great relief when the music ended and she could stop dancing.

Kitty, flanked by her maid, came running out of the crowd, beaming.

“I saw you dancing, Papa!” she chirped, holding up her arms.

Face creasing into a smile wider than Anna had ever seen, Theodore swept his daughter up into his arms.

“Well, I shan’t be dancing anymore tonight, I fear,” he said jovially. “But it’s getting close to your bedtime, don’t you think?”

Kitty pouted. “It’s not so very late, Papa.”

“No, but you need your sleep. Come on now, Martha will take you to bed.”

“Can I say goodnight to Miss Belmont first?”

Theodore hesitated, glancing over at Anna.

This is what I am here for, she reminded herself and smiled at Kitty.

“You can call me Anna if you like, Kitty. I’m not Miss Belmont anymore, and it would be silly for you to call me Your Grace .”

Kitty nodded eagerly, wriggling in her father’s arms. He put her down at once, and Anna was sure she saw a quick, approving expression cross his face.

Kitty eyed Anna’s dress with wide eyes. “It’s so beautiful . You looked very beautiful, Miss… Anna. Are you glad to be married?”

“Yes, very,” Anna said. It wasn’t the truth, of course, but it wasn’t exactly a lie either. “Kitty, since our rooms are in the same wing, perhaps I could tuck you into bed tonight? I’m sure Martha has had a long day.”

Kitty perked up at this suggestion, glancing at both her father and her nursemaid for permission.

Theodore’s eyes were fixed on Anna when she glanced at him, his expression unreadable.

“Of course,” he said. “But Anna can’t stay too long. This is her wedding party, after all.”

There was something about his tone that made shivers run down Anna’s spine. Not unpleasant shivers.

It was simpler to turn her back to him, offer her hand to Kitty, and set off across the ballroom, with Martha trailing behind.

People moved to get out of her way when she passed by, murmuring congratulations and compliments. She heard more than one Your Grace and was quite sure that it would never feel normal.

It’s like I’m a different person from the one I was this morning, she thought and had to bite back a laugh.

Kitty’s room was exactly what one would expect from a child of her age. It was messy, despite Martha’s obvious best efforts, and there were dolls and toys everywhere, and a surprising amount of books.

Once Martha had gotten the little girl ready and into bed, she whispered her goodnights and left Anna and Kitty alone together.

“I’m allowed to have the candle burning while I fall asleep,” Kitty said, indicating the half-burned candlestick on the bedside table, “but somebody comes in and blows it out when I’m asleep. When I wake up in the middle of the night, it’s always dark.”

“Ah, that’s to avoid fires. It’s always better to be safe than sorry.”

Anna perched on the edge of Kitty’s bed. The little girl’s eyes were already closing, despite her protestations of not being tired at all.

“You are a very nice dancer, Anna,” Kitty said drowsily. “Everybody said so. I wish I could dance.”

“It takes a great deal of practice,” Anna acknowledged. “I’ve been having lessons since I was only five years old.”

Kitty’s eyes flew open. “ Five ? I am seven, and I’ve never had a lesson!”

Anna chuckled. “Then we must arrange some lessons for you.”

Kitty seemed pleased at this. “I suppose it wouldn’t have occurred to Papa to give me lessons,” she said thoughtfully. “He’s not very good at lady things.”

Anna bit her lip, fighting back another smile. “No, I imagine not.”

“He is… he is so very man ,” Kitty murmured.

Suddenly, Anna found herself conjuring up an image of Theodore’s cool, amused expression, looking down at her when she finally dragged her eyes up from the pin on his cravat.

“Yes,” she agreed. “He is very man.”

Less than five minutes later, Kitty drifted off to sleep, and Anna was able to sneak out of the room, gingerly closing the door behind her.

After the warm, buttery light of the nursery, the hallway seemed exceptionally dark and gloomy. There were candles set into the walls at intervals, but the difference in light was so stark that she stood there for a moment, waiting for her eyes to adjust, virtually blind.

“Your Grace.”

She nearly jumped out of her skin, spinning around. “Mrs. Haunt,” she gasped. “I… I didn’t hear you there. You nearly scared the life out of me.”

The housekeeper smiled wryly. “Haunt by name, haunt by nature. I beg your pardon, Your Grace. I didn’t wish to disturb you and Lady Katherine.”

“Yes, that’s probably for the best. I think she’s just fallen asleep.”

Mrs. Haunt nodded meditatively, her eyes giving away nothing. “She seems to like you a great deal already, Your Grace.”

Was that a compliment or not? Anna wasn’t sure.

“She’s a very sweet little girl.”

Mrs. Haunt nodded again. She reached into her pocket and pulled out a neat twist of paper. “His Grace requested that I bring you this note. Good night, Your Grace.”

With that, she slipped past Anna, pale as a ghost in the dim light.

Anna watched her go, a little baffled. Did Mrs. Haunt like her or not, or was she simply reserving judgment?

Sighing, she unwrapped the note and read it quickly.

Dear Wife,

The guests are beginning to leave. If you would like to retire for the night, go to your room and meet me there. If not, return to the party. The choice is entirely yours.

T.

A shiver ran down her spine.

She didn’t have to go. He’d said as much. She could pretend that she hadn’t received the note, or simply pretend that somebody had waylaid her on her way to meet him. Better yet, she could take a firmer stance and simply refuse to meet him at all. Her message would be clear.

I… I think I want to go. Best to get it over with, anyway.

Crumpling the note in her fist, she turned on her heel and strode down the hall, towards her brand-new bedroom.

Anna assumed that just about every woman in the world spent her entire wedding day thinking about the fateful wedding night. She hadn’t even been sure she would get a wedding night. He’d said that they wouldn’t share a bed and that he would summon her and she was not to seek him out, so there’d been no guarantee anything would happen tonight.

Apparently, she was wrong.

As Anna approached her room, she saw a thin beam of light filtering underneath the door, and anxiety coiled in her gut again. Approaching the door, she had the oddest urge to knock.

She did no such thing, of course.

Drawing in a breath, she pushed open the door, not entirely sure what she would find.

A few candles had been lit, enough to fill the room with a warm glow, and a small fire crackled in the grate.

Theodore sat with his back to the door, facing the fire, one leg crossed elegantly over the other. He glanced over his shoulder at her, and she caught a glimpse of a half-full brandy glass hanging from his fingers.

“Ah, the Duchess,” he remarked. “Here she is.”

“Of course, I am here. You summoned me.”

He winced. “Don’t make it sound so mercenary. I am sorry to drag you away from the party, though. Feel free to return if you like.”

She shook her head, stepping further into the room. Anxiety bubbled inside her.

“It feels as though it’s not for me. The party, I mean.”

He raised an eyebrow. “It’s not. Wedding parties are never for the bride and groom. A popular misconception, though.”

Setting his brandy glass down with a thunk , he rose smoothly to his feet, turning to face her. Anna was suddenly very aware of the bed, a huge, four-poster thing, piled high with quilts and cushions and pillows.

Theodore gave a slow smile as if sensing her anxiety. He stepped closer until she could smell wet earth and grass and feel the heat radiating from him, and she had to tilt her head back to look him in the eye. He lifted a hand and trailed a fingertip down the side of her neck. It was a feather-light touch, barely there, but it seemed to leave a trail of fire in its wake.

“I never did kiss my bride,” he drawled, almost to himself. “Properly, I mean. I don’t enjoy bestowing kisses for the enjoyment of an audience. Perhaps I might kiss her now.”

Her heart drummed urgently in her chest, and heat pulsed somewhere in her core. Anna knew, with something like resignation, that she did want to kiss him. Whatever the night held for her, whatever the intimacies of man and wife turned out to be like, she wanted to kiss the wretched man very, very much.

“For a man who talks so much,” she whispered, “you don’t do a great deal.”

Theodore’s eyes narrowed. “Oh?” he said lightly. “Is that so?”

In an instant, he caught her around the waist, pulling her hard against him, and pressed his lips to hers.

All things considered, it was not a good kiss.

Anna had, of course, never kissed anyone before, and had no idea how things worked. She kept her lips pressed to his for a couple of seconds, hardly daring to move, and then pulled away, dropping back onto her heels, breathless.

Theodore blinked down at her. “Well,” he said, at last. “That wasn’t very good, was it?”

She felt the color rush to her face. “I did my best.”

“Hm. Well, your best must be improved, don’t you think? Here. This is how it is done.”

Before she could protest or give a sharp retort, Theodore’s long, cool fingers curled around her chin, tilting up her face, and he smoothly leaned down to kiss her.

It was different this time.

He angled his head so that their noses didn’t bump, and the pressure was much softer. His lips were oddly soft, too, a counterpoint to the stubble on his chin. Anna remembered to close her eyes, and as the darkness closed in, her senses were overwhelmed with the feel and smell and heat of him.

Her arms were around his shoulders before she knew what she was doing, her fingers grazing the soft hair on the back of his neck. His hands were on her waist, reminiscent of the way they’d waltzed together, but this was different. His hands were edging up her ribcage towards the swell of her breasts, and it had never occurred to Anna that he would touch her there, but she wanted him to do it so, so very badly, and it would feel?—

Something hard bumped against the back of her legs, and the spell was broken. Anna broke away from him with a squeak of alarm, grabbing at whatever it was to steady herself.

“Careful,” Theodore said, sounding a trifle breathless. “It’s your writing desk.”

She glanced up at him, but he looked as cool and unruffled as always. No doubt Anna looked hot and flustered and entirely wanton, which wasn’t the worst idea in the world, if only…

He glanced away from her, bending to pick something up.

“You dropped a letter, I think…” He paused, frowning down at the envelope.

Anna’s heart sank as she recognized the handwriting and the message on the front. It had not fallen out of her writing desk. It had fallen out of her sleeve, which had seemed to be the safest place to leave it, far from prying eyes.

Forgive me, Anna

“Henry’s letter,” he said flatly. “Why do you have a letter from my brother up your sleeve?”