Chapter 9

CHAPTER 9

" Y our Grace, will you be staying here tonight?"

She tried. Oh, she tried so hard but Lucy couldn't help it. It had been an eventful day, and not in a good way. She just had to know. Duncan looked at her with a glimmer of astonishment as his eyes jerked up.

"Will I stay here?" he asked in a deep, rumbling voice.

She still couldn't believe it. She was a married woman. This man, standing here in front of her was now her husband. It was hard to fathom.

And now, I pronounce you man and wife.

The words kept ringing in Lucy's ears, tormenting her with their falsehood. A farce. A bloody farce. That was all this marriage was. There was no other reason for him giving her the briefest of kisses in the corner of her mouth. Not when he had…No. She wouldn't go down that road.

Here she was—Lady Lucy Elkins, Duchess of Northwick. She felt like a fraud. Her body agreed and it stood, rigid from nerves and exhaustion. Her wedding ring felt oddly ominous on her finger; it was a thick band of gold set with a single, cold sapphire.

The previous hours had been a whirl of nervous meals in a room large enough to feed a small army, where Lucy sat opposite Duncan at an unending table, picking at her food, her appetite stifled by the deafening silence.

Now, she couldn't take her eyes off the dark gloves on his palms. A persistent hunch had been festering in Lucy's head all day. She couldn't get rid of the impression that Duncan had purposefully left his gloves on during the wedding. Was it just a coincidence, or was there another reason?

Maybe he couldn't bear the thought of touching her. He couldn't stand the feel of her skin. Maybe he hated everything about her. That would not be far-fetched.

It was almost as if Lucy was attending a funeral and not her own wedding feast. But something had been niggling her brain. No. She should be quiet. After all, a good wife was to be seen and not heard. But she had to know their living arrangements.

Lucy's cheeks flushed. "I mean, in my chambers. Or am I to stay in your chambers?" Her heart hammered painfully in her chest. There was a tense stillness for a while.

"Do you even realize what it is you are asking, Duchess?" he finally said, his voice laced with a dangerous glint in his eyes. Duchess. She shivered at the word as her heart raced.

"I…I think so," she stammered, a flicker of defiance rising within her.

What else could it mean? Wasn't it the norm for couples and newlyweds to spend the night in the same room? Or was she mistaken? At least, it was what she assumed Papa and Mama did whenever it was time to retire for the night.

Lucy remembered noticing the slight look of worry on her mother's face just before she had followed the duke into his carriage. Was there something she was supposed to know?

The look the duke gave her was a mixture of amusement and something darker, something that sent a shiver down her spine. He pushed back his chair and rose to his full height, towering over her.

"This is a marriage of convenience, Duchess," he said, his voice a low rumble. "We made a deal. I will never touch you. It was a promise I still intend to keep."

Lucy's breath hitched. "Touch me?" she echoed, a bewildered frown creasing her forehead. "I…I didn't think you meant…" she trailed off.

Duncan's eyes narrowed. "And what did you think I meant?"

Lucy's cheeks burned scarlet. "Well, I…I thought you meant…" she stammered, unable to voice the unspoken desire that had bloomed within her during their stolen glances throughout the day.

Lucy stared as he took a menacing step closer, the air around them crackling with tension. Lucy stood her ground, her chin held high, though her heart pounded a frantic rhythm in her chest. They were mere inches apart now, the heat radiating from his body a sharp contrast to the chill in his eyes.

She was trembling. Oh, she knew it. It was the way he looked at her — like he would consume her if he could.

She was small, compared to his large frame, and he towered over her. She wanted him to touch her, to hold her, to caress her with those strong hands that seemed so close, yet so distant. And maybe even a kiss…

She allowed her eyes to linger over his body. She was his wife. She allowed her eyes to stray ever so slowly further from his face, losing her breath as her gaze fell upon the opening on his shirt created by a few loose buttons.

"This is not a game, Duchess," Duncan finally said, his voice a low rasp as he moved away from her reach. "There will be no… misunderstandings."

Lucy met his gaze, her own blazing with a mixture of anger and defiance. "Perhaps not," she whispered, her voice surprisingly steady. "But I will not be treated like a… like a… possession."

His jaw clenched and his eyes darkened even further. For a long moment, they stood locked in a silent battle of wills. She could swear there was a crackle in the air — one with unspoken emotions, the weight of their unspoken desires hanging heavy in the stifling silence.

But he wanted her . Or was she now seeing things? But she had seen the desire in his eyes. And she wanted a taste of it. It was the same as that night when they had been overcome by foolishness. Why had he leaned in then, but refuses to now when he had the rights?

And just as she had thought he might kiss her…he stepped back abruptly.

The tension dissipated as quickly as it had risen, leaving a cold emptiness in its wake.

"Get some rest, Duchess," Duncan said, his voice devoid of emotion, as he turned to leave. "We have a long life ahead of us."

Oh, she was very much aware. He never tired to remind her of it. "Is that it?" Lucy blurted, regaining her voice.

Duncan paused in his stride and turned to face her, "Is what what?" he asked, his voice not missing that familiar impatience and annoyance. However, this did little to deter the young duchess.

"Is this how our marriage is to be? How my life is to be?" Lucy near-yelled, the anger and frustrations of the last few days slowly creeping into her voice. "I never asked for any of this. I never asked for you to come to my father's house and propose to me!"

"Neither did I." Duncan near-growled. She didn't miss the tight control in his voice. "Neither did I. I have told you before and I will repeat it again since you seem hard of hearing. This marriage is one of convenience. And I'm quite certain your family received the longer end of the stick."

"I—"

"And I will remind you that I do not appreciate being spoken to in such a manner. You will regard me with respect." He bit out through clenched teeth.

Lucy stared back in shock. This was a fact she had known and come to accept, but having it thrown at her, and by her newly wedded husband caused a lump to form in her throat.

"I would not have accepted your generosity if I had known it would only be thrown back in my face." Lucy replied in a quieter voice. "We would have found a way."

He remained silent, not bothering to give a reply. Apparently, she wasn't worthy of one. This was it. This was her life now. And she had never felt so low.

"Have I offended you in any way, Your Grace?" Lucy asked, drawing closer to the duke.

"Not that I can recall." He was distant. Aloof.

"If that is so, then why do you intend to deny me of your touch and the pleasures of marriage? Or do you only see me as a means to father an heir?" Lucy enquired.

If she was to be forcefully joined to a man as cold as the duke, she wished to at least get certain assurances that he would be gentle with her. She knew better than to envision a blissful marriage. If their wedding was any indicator, she would be lucky to grow old and happy.

Should the duke fail to provide her with happiness, she would find it in her children. And she would raise their offspring with all the love and care that she could muster. Her children must not grow up to be like their father. No! Not if she had anything to do with it!

"I believe you are mistaken…wife," the duke's voice pulled Lucy from her reverie. "I will not touch you. There will be no consummation. And therefore, there shall be no children. I hope that is crystal clear enough for you."

His voice held no room for argument. And his words? They pierced harder than Lucy would ever admit. She had believed his words to mean he would deny her the joys and pleasures of a wife. But to think that he would deny her the pleasures of a mother…

"I… I…" Lucy stuttered. No words could quite capture the hollow feeling gaping in her chest; the devastation that threatened to envelop the entirety of her being.

"Get some rest, Duchess," was all Duncan said in that time that brooked no argument before walking out into the darkness, leaving Lucy in the hall.

And like a ship captured by a raging storm with nowhere to lay anchor, Lucy wept harder than she had ever done before. Only this time, she had neither her mama nor Caroline to ease her worries.

For the first time in Lucy's entire life, she felt truly alone.