Chapter Twenty-Three

W hen they arrived at Hart’s house in St James Square, the entire household staff was lined up in the front hall to greet her.

Mr. Townson greeted her with a rare smile. “Felicitations on your marriage, Your Grace. We are pleased to have you return to Hartwick House as its new mistress.” He gave a low bow.

“Thank you, Mr. Townson.”

Next was the housekeeper, Mrs. Hunt. “It’s lovely to have you with us again, my dear. Please let me know if there is anything you need. Helen is already busy unpacking your things in the duchess’s suite.”

Helen was here already? Of course, she was. While Lucy had been handling wedding guests, Trudy had made sure that her transition to Hart’s household would be seamless. Knowing that her lady’s maid was here already smoothed some of her nerves.

“Thank you, Mrs. Hunt.”

Hart put a hand on her lower back. “Let me introduce you to everyone. Some you may know already as many of the staff have been with the family for years.”

She walked down the line of staff members greeting each one with a smile, Hart’s hand warm and firm at her back as he guided her down the line. Hart introduced her with surprising ease. He knew the name of every person on his staff, all the way down to the kitchen scullery maids. When they got to the end Townson clapped his hands and the staff dispersed.

She glanced up at Hart. “Well, how did I do?”

He smiled. “Excellent first impression, Your Grace. I’m just glad none of the maids ran away in horror at having to face me. I haven’t seen half those girls since the accident. I know they work here but they must do their best to avoid me.”

“Actually, sir,” Townson interrupted. “I told the staff to be discreet and stay out of your way. I wished to give you time to adjust to being back in town.”

“That is his polite way of saying he wanted to see if I would still be drunk and wandering the halls scaring the maids with my unkempt appearance.” Hart’s wry half smile was in place but behind it she could see regret in his eyes.

Townson for his part remained silent and stoic. Always the utmost professional.

Lucy clapped her hands together. “Well, there will be none of that when I am here. I will keep my husband far too busy to be roaming the halls at night.”

Hart made a choked sound from next to her. She turned to see what the problem was and caught him covering a grin with one fist as he coughed. Strange.

“Mr. Townson, could we have some refreshment set out? I’m famished. I spent too much time this afternoon talking and not enough time eating. And I know I did not see His Grace eat a single thing either. Perhaps just in the breakfast room?” She turned back to Hart. “I don’t think I am up for spending our first meal together as husband and wife at that large imposing dining table.”

“I have a better idea,” Hart said. “Why don’t you let Mrs. Hunt show you to your room to freshen up. And when you come down, I will have everything arranged.”

“What are you arranging? Where will we eat?”

Hart gave her a little nudge toward the stairs. “Just change into something comfortable for an evening in.”

Lucy couldn’t imagine what he had in mind, but she was grateful to go to her room for a few moments of peace. And to change from her silk gown with its five layers of petticoats and stiff-boned corset. The layers of undergarments had made the skirts look lovely and full, and the corset had given her small breasts a well needed lift to fill out the bodice. But as Helen helped her take off each layer, Lucy also began to shed the nerves she had carried with her all day.

She donned her more comfortable short stays over a fresh chemise, and then Helen held out her favorite cotton summer dress, the empire waist style comfortable and cool and the lilac color flattering to her complexion. She stared into the looking glass and felt like herself again. She needed to remember that even though the man downstairs was the Duke of Hartwick, he was also just Hart. There was no reason to be nervous.

She made her way back downstairs and found Hart standing at the bottom, waiting for her. He had removed his jacket and rolled up the sleeves of his shirt to reveal his forearms. One covered lightly in dark hair, and the other covered in smooth pink scars. Pleased that he felt comfortable enough to show her some of the scars he usually kept concealed, she gave him a bright smile as she descended the last few stairs.

He held out a hand. When she crossed to him, he tucked her arm through his elbow.

“Where are we going to eat? We are still going to eat?” she asked.

“Yes. You have often made sure I ate, and now it is my turn to feed you. This way.” He led them to the back of the house and out through French doors to the back garden. The sun low in the sky cast golden light over the lawn and pierced through the leaves of the great aspen tree, leaving patterns of dappled light on the grass underneath. Past the stone terrace, in front of the Koi pond, a blanket was laid out in the grass. A large wicker basket sat in the center.

“How about an evening picnic? It’s beautiful weather, and we have been cooped up inside all day.”

“I’ve never heard of having a picnic in the evening.”

“Welcome to my world; haven’t you heard?” Hart lowered his voice conspiratorially. “Dukes can do whatever they choose.”

She grinned and hopped off the terrace to make her way to the blanket. Settling herself as gracefully as possible, Lucy spread out her skirts. “It is lovely out here.”

Hart grabbed two lit lanterns from a table and came to join her. He set the lanterns at the far edge of the blanket. “These are for when the sun sets. Now let’s see what my cook has packed for us.”

He reached into the basket and brought out a small bouquet of daisies. He handed them to her with a flourish. “For you, Lady Hartwick.”

Their yellow centers were so cheerful and sunny that Lucy couldn’t help but smile as she petted the delicate petals with one finger. “How did you know what my favorite flowers were?”

“I know everything about you.”

“Ha! You’ve never paid an ounce of attention to me except when your father made you come fix things at the school.”

“You were a lot of trouble back then. But I admired your spirit. You didn’t let that finishing school mold you into some insipid debutant. And I do so know all about you.” He held up one finger. “You like daisies. You have them planted all throughout the garden at the house in Portman Square.” He raised another finger. “You never wear the color yellow. You dislike fish of all kinds.”

Lucy scrunched her nose and nodded her agreement.

“You never back down from an argument. You like to beat on bags of sand with a big staff, although that is a new discovery.”

Lucy laughed out loud at the last one. “I only fight the sandbag because it’s socially unacceptable to pick fights with people on the street. I could teach you some techniques, and then we could spar together. It might even be a good way to loosen up your shoulder.”

“I’m not sure my ego could take being taken to task by such a small woman.”

She laughed again because she absolutely could beat him in a match. He noticed more than she ever thought about her. “I concede, I am surprised at the things you’ve noticed.”

Hart leaned forward. “Lucy, you are a beautiful woman. There are a myriad of things for a man to notice.”

Lucy’s breath caught. Kiss me. But Hart pulled back and dug into the basket again.

“Try this.” He held out a small bite of cheese. “It’s an Italian variety, made from goat’s milk. My chef says it is creamy and a bit tangy.”

Lucy reached out and took the bite. Indeed, the cheese melted in her mouth. “Delicious.” She glanced at him through her lashes as he continued to pull food out from the basket and arrange it on the blanket. “Hart, will you tell me what happened between you and that Seaton fellow?”

Hart plucked a large strawberry from a bowl and offered it to her. “I was told these are perfectly ripe and sweet.”

“Hart,” she warned as she took the berry from him. “I won’t be distracted by food.”

“Are you sure? Mr. Bell makes divine bread. Try a piece with a bit of that cheese.”

She sent him a stern look. “Hart, please tell me what happened. Maybe I can help.”

“Like you helped by threatening him with the end of my cane pressed to his neck?” Hart held up his hands when she huffed. “Alright, I will tell you. But I guess I should start earlier that day. All of it pertains to my father. I went to the Earl of Blackpool’s home. He had been ignoring my invitations to meet, so I stopped by unannounced in the hope of catching him at home.” Hart plucked a berry and popped it into his mouth. After a moment, he continued. “I saw the Knot of Isis on his wall and asked him about it. He said they had a club at Eton, just as you guessed. My father had chosen the symbol to represent it, for protection against their enemies.”

Lucy nodded and tore off a piece of crusty bread from a loaf that had been wrapped in a colorful gingham cloth.

“I asked him what had happened to their friendship, my father and his. They used to be close, but years ago, they ceased socializing.” Hart looked out toward the tall garden wall at the back of the property. “Blackpool said my father had an affair with his wife. That he’d always known my father was a womanizer but that he never thought he would cross that line with a friend.” He blew out a long breath.

“Oh my,” Lucy said, at a loss for the appropriate response. She watched Hart carefully to judge his reaction.

He turned stormy eyes to her. “I know it’s na?ve to think that ton marriages aren’t rife with infidelity.” He ran a hand through his hair. “But I suppose I had held my father to a high standard. I guess I always thought he was so upright. He taught me everything I know about being a gentleman.”

“I understand that. I have always held my father up as the ideal husband and father. Of course, a son would look up to his father. And your father was wonderful. I knew him to be kind and magnanimous to a frightened young girl just because of a promise to a friend. So, he wasn’t perfect, but that doesn’t change the good parts of who he was.”

“There’s more.” Hart grimaced. “Let’s have some of this champagne.” He pulled a bottle from the basket and two glasses. Then he uncorked it with a pop and poured the sparkling wine for them.

Lucy sipped her wine and waited for the more.

Hart took a long swallow, draining half the glass. “I was walking a bit, thinking about what I had just learned, when out of nowhere, Seaton appeared. He knew where I had been. He had been following me, I guess. He said that he’d been hired to watch over me. That the person who hired him felt guilty about what happened to me and that they wanted to prevent me from coming to further harm.”

“Who?” she asked.

“He wouldn’t say. Seaton is a cryptic bast… man. But during the course of our conversation, he said something else. He tauntingly called me little brother. He claims to be my half-brother. That his mother was my father’s mistress.”

She gasped. She couldn’t help it. A half-brother?

Hart’s lips lifted in a wry half smile at her gasp. “That’s how I felt as well. What you saw was my denial in the form of anger. I don’t think he would have hurt me despite his threats, but I have no doubt that he is deadly. I don’t know exactly what he does, but somehow, I think protection is not his normal job assignment.”

“Dear Lord. Do you think he is some sort of criminal?”

Hart shrugged and finished his glass of wine in one long gulp.

“I guess it’s better to have him protecting you than the opposite.” Lucy shook her head. This was a lot of scandal to absorb. How had his father kept it all a secret? She frowned. Perhaps it wasn’t. Perhaps many knew. Did it even matter if a duke had affairs or illegitimate children? “Do you think it is well known that your father had sired illegitimate children?”

“I honestly don’t think so. I feel as though I would have known or heard the rumors if that was his reputation. My guess is that he was discreet and preferred to keep a more spotless reputation. Perhaps to protect my mother. I think he did love her or at least respected her enough to not flaunt his affairs.”

Lucy bit down to rip off another piece of bread. Did Hart feel the same about marriage? Would he take a mistress once he had his heir? Their marriage was just one of convenience, a way to protect her from scandal. It wasn’t as though he loved her. But the thought of him finding pleasure in the arms of another woman made her stomach churn.

“Lucy, your expression is pained. What’s the matter?”

She shook her head. “Nothing.” She would not admit how upset she was at the prospect of him taking a mistress.

She was in no position to make demands on his affection. But he had said she belonged to him, and didn’t that mean he belonged to her as well? She would not share. Lucy hurled the last of her bread at him.

“What was that for?” Hart brushed the crumbs off the front of his jacket. Moving quickly, he placed his arms on the ground on either side of her, crowding her back until she lay down staring up at him. “I never can figure out what you are thinking when that clever brain of yours starts churning. Tell me what’s the matter,” he demanded.

There was nowhere to hide from his direct gaze. Overwhelmed, she turned her head to the side.

Don’t ruin everything. He doesn’t want to hear about your jealousy over fantasy women.

Hart leaned in to rub his nose along the side of her neck. His warm breath tickled her ear. “Are you worried about what sort of husband I will make? Lucy, look at me.”

She reluctantly turned her head back to meet his gaze. “I understand that powerful men often take mistresses. But…”

“You wouldn’t like that?”

She huffed. “Of course not! No woman wants to feel that she is not enough.”

Hart froze, staring down at her. “Lucy, I would never want to make you feel that you were not enough. I know too well what that feels like. I promise, no affairs.” His features softened to a half smile. “I always intended to be a faithful husband. My biggest concern is whether you will be satisfied with this wreck of a man in front of you. Because once I make you mine, I won’t let you go to another.”

His sweet, possessive words settled into her heart. She nodded because she didn’t have the words to reply. Reaching up, she caressed his cheek, tracing his scars lightly with her fingertips. She would love him so well that he would have no choice but to love her back. Right now, though, she might expire from the heat burning in his eyes. He’d told her to tell him what she needed. “Hart.”

“Yes?”

“I need you to kiss me.”

He leaned forward until his lips were millimeters from hers. “A kiss, hmm? My pleasure.” He kissed one corner of her mouth feather lite. Then brushed another light kiss across her lips before sinking against her and languidly exploring her mouth, his tongue dipping inside to taste before he pulled back to suck her bottom lip. Unlike the other kisses they had shared, this kiss was long and sultry, leaving her wanting more.

But then Hart sat up and pulled her up to sitting as well. He tore off a piece of bread and spread some of the goat cheese across it. “Eat. I promised you food, and I shan’t be distracted.”

“But kissing is so much more fun.” She bit down on her bottom lip and grinned.

Hart groaned and leaned forward to place a swift kiss against her lips. “You are addictive. But I promised you time and space. Eat.”

Lucy dutifully took a bite of bread. Noting to herself that his eyes heated every time they strayed to her mouth. She tucked the information away for later.

*

This was not what she had dreamed her wedding night to be like. Tucked into bed, alone. Lucy stared up at the canopy. The yellow-gold fringe along the edge of the pale pink velvet was the most hideous thing she had ever seen. She blew out a long breath. This morning Hart’s sweet words that they would wait until she was ready seemed so chivalrous. Now she craved his presence. More kisses, more heated looks, more… well… more.

After dinner, Hart had led her up to their suite. He had given the room a cursory glance and asked her if it was satisfactory. When she nodded, he had strode across to open a door and proceeded to show her the dressing room and adjoining sitting room.

Then back through to the bedroom they had trooped, where he had opened another door to reveal the water closet, which had a large claw foot tub at its center. He pointed to the other side of the room. “That leads to my bedroom. If you need anything at all, let me know.” He had stood there for a long moment, almost as though he wanted to say something else. But then he turned and disappeared into his suite.

Lucy had stared at the carved wooden door. What now? Was she to get ready for bed? She’d called for her maid. Helen helped her change into a beautifully embroidered nightgown in a gossamer fabric that was quite transparent. When she raised her eyebrows at her reflection, Helen had giggled, actually giggled, and then said that the duke would be so pleased. She’d brushed out Lucy’s hair and tucked her into bed before leaving for the night. And that was where Lucy had lain for the last hour.

Hart was not going to come to her. She sat up in bed with a huff, pushing the sheets off. He had made it plain he planned to wait for her to make the decision as to when they would consummate their marriage. But she had not expected it to be this hard to gather her courage. Just get out of bed and go to him. Perhaps he is waiting for you, desperate, wanting you. She swung her legs over the edge of the bed. Crossed through the water closet to the door to his room, but then she paused. Should she knock? It was polite to knock.

She knocked. No response. Was he asleep? She knocked louder. Still nothing. If he was asleep, would he mind if she crawled in next to him? She glanced back over her shoulder toward her bedroom. Anything was better than sleeping in that cavernous bed by herself.

Lucy turned the knob and slowly opened the door. The room was dark save for the moonlight that shone through an open window onto an obviously empty bed. Lucy crossed her arms over her chest. So much for her fantasy that he would be in bed desperately waiting for her to come to him.

Where was her husband? She glanced around the room. Just as large as hers, his was decorated in dark blues and greens. A single leather chair sat in front of the fireplace. Beyond that, she could make out the shadowed shape of an armoire and a wash basin beside it. A breeze blew into the room, fluttering gauzy curtains. Lucy turned and went back to her room. She marched across to the dressing table and snatched up a silky robe from the chair. She tied the belt tightly, slipped out of the room, and headed for the stairs.

At the top, she paused. Should she be walking through the house in her nightclothes? This was her house now; she could explore it looking for her errant husband if she chose. Resolved, she padded down the stairs. The footman assigned to the front door startled when he spotted her. Which one was he? Herman? Herbert?

“May I help you with anything, Your Grace?”

Lucy pulled herself up as tall as she could. Trying not to blush at being seen in her robe and bare feet. “Yes, Herbert. I’m in search of my husband.”

“Yes, ma’am. I saw him go into his study about an hour ago. Down the corridor, third door on your left.”

“Thank you.” She hurried towards Hart’s study and, without knocking, slipped inside. She leaned back against the door and briefly shut her eyes.

“Lucy?” Hart’s deep voice called out.