Chapter Twenty-Two

L ucy stood waiting outside the drawing room, flanked by Adeline and Violet. Based on the volume of conversation coming from the other side of the door, she doubted there was only a handful of people. “How many people did Trudy invite?” she asked Violet.

Her friend shrugged. “My best guess is there are about twenty or so guests.”

She hoped Hart was all right in there. Forced to make small talk with people for the last hour, he probably was grumpy as a bear. “How do I look?” She nervously brushed a hand down her pale blue skirt.

“You look beautiful,” Adeline assured her. “Nothing to worry about, just marrying a duke today. Happens all the time.” Addie giggled at her own joke.

Lucy’s nerves were frayed. Ever since her talk with Hart, she could focus on nothing except what he said about their wedding night. He was being so kind, but she must tell him that there never had been an engagement to Mr. Murdoch. She didn’t want Hart to think she pined for anyone but him. Even if the idea of their wedding night scared her to death.

She knew absolutely nothing about what happens between husband and wife. She had been too young when her mother died to have had any more than a cursory conversation about becoming a woman when she had started her courses. Beyond a few stolen kisses, the mysterious act of love was just a hazy concept that everyone seemed to have an opinion about. Matrons warned that it was something to avoid before marriage and after marriage, something to be endured.

But why then did so many women risk their reputations for trysts in dark gardens or elicit affairs with a rake? It couldn’t be so unpleasant, right? Besides, Hart was an expert at pleasure. For years, she had watched women throwing themselves in his path. And his kisses had been sinful and delicious, making her want more, making her wonder what more pleasures could be had.

Lucy leaned in and gave her friend a hug. Then she turned and embraced Violet as well. “Dear Lord, what have I gotten myself into?”

Violet gave her a knowing look. “This is everything you have been longing for since you were sixteen. Don’t worry. Are you sure you don’t want me to cover that bruise with some powder?”

Lucy shook her head. If Hart could walk with courage each day, showing his scars to the world, she could certainly join him without shame over one small bruise. Besides, she quite liked his idea of them making a spectacle. She had spent far too much time in her life keeping herself in check, hiding the bits of herself that were too outlandish, too bold for society. She was going to be the Duchess of Hartwick; she could be a spectacle if she chose.

The door opened, and Trudy came through the threshold. “Are you ready, dear?

Lucy nodded. Violet and Adeline walked ahead of her down a makeshift aisle. Chairs had been set up on each side and were filled with guests. As she walked with Trudy to the front of the room, she kept her eyes fixed on Hart.

He stood tall and ramrod straight next to the minister. He had forgone his cane, although she spotted it nearby, leaning against a windowsill. He looked every inch the handsome aristocrat with his dark hair tucked behind his ears and his bland social mask firmly in place. But she could see his hot gaze track her as she made her way toward him, transforming the nerves in her stomach into a warm pool of desire. This man would be hers in just a few short minutes.

The ceremony itself was a blur. She said yes at the appropriate times and smiled brightly at each well-wisher afterward. Hart’s warm grip kept her hand in his for the entire afternoon. Wine was served, and someone played a lively song on the pianoforte. Guests danced and mingled. Only after everyone had the opportunity to ask them about their courtship, make exclamations about her eye and what a devil Fitzwilliam was, and comment how glad they were that Hart was recovered and back in society, did they all finally leave.

“Success, my darlings!” Trudy clapped her hands together. “Now, the two of you may go home. Everything is packed in the carriage. Thomas Kent is waiting outside.”

“Everything is packed?” Lucy dropped Hart’s hand. She felt a bit panicked at the reality that her life here with Trudy was ending so abruptly.

“Well, everything you will need for the next few days. I will send the rest over soon.” She winked at Lucy. “You both did a wonderful job handling the guests today. Even I believed you two were a happy couple.”

Lucy glanced at Hart and found that he was staring at her contemplatively. “I am happy to have Lucy as my wife.” His lips quirked up at one side. “Who else will badger me into taking care of myself?”

“No one, that’s who,” Lucy replied tartly. She relaxed at his gentle teasing. Inhaling a deep breath through her nose, she turned to embrace Trudy. “Thank you for all you have done for me. You took me in as part of your family, and I will always be grateful for all the advice and wisdom you have imparted over the years. And be grateful for all the adventures we have shared.”

Trudy patted her back. “Me, too. You have kept me young, my dear. Now, don’t get sentimental on me. You are not going so far.”

Lucy pulled back and slipped her hand back into Hart’s. He led them outside.

Thomas opened the carriage door. “Many felicitations on your nuptials, Lady Hartwick.”

At hearing the moniker, Lucy paused for a moment before giving the man a smile. “Thank you, Mr. Kent.”

Hart followed her inside and sat across from her with a smirk on his face.

“What?” she asked.

“It’s just strange. Lady Hartwick. It reminds me of my mother.”

Lucy stuck out her tongue at him.

Hart laughed and the carriage set into motion. He switched sides to slide next to her on the bench seat, slipping his arm around her waist. He placed a kiss to her temple. “What shall we do first when we get home, Lady Hartwick?”

“Eat.” As if on cue, her stomach growled in the most unladylike fashion. “I’m famished.”

Hart scooted her closer, tucking her against his side. “Your wish is my command, Your Grace.”