Chapter 8

A New Life

“Welcome, Your Grace. My name is Mrs. Belcot. It is a pleasure to welcome you to your new home,” the housekeeper greeted. “If there is anything you need, you need only ask. His Grace has an experienced staff here on the estate, and I am sure you will be more than comfortable.”

Mrs. Belcot was in her late fifties and was stout without being overweight. She looked like the type of woman who would unload deliveries when they arrived because the delivery boys were too slow.

“Thank you,” Beatrice murmured, unsure what came next.

“Can I get you something to eat? The kitchens will cook up anything you might want. Or some tea, perhaps?”

“Would you show me to my bedroom?” Beatrice asked.

“Of course, Your Grace. Right this way.”

Beatrice followed the housekeeper, her eyes pinned to the back of her dark dress, unable to take in the grandeur of her new home. She knew from the exterior that it would be magnificent inside, but she could only concentrate on getting to her room, and holding back the tears blurring her vision.

They went up two flights of stairs and down a long, well-lit hallway. The housekeeper opened a door, and she gestured for Beatrice to enter.

The new Duchess wiped her eyes with the backs of her hands enough to see again. She entered the room and looked back at the housekeeper, as if the older woman might tell her what to do next.

“Can I have anything brought up to you?” Mrs. Belcot asked. “Have you eaten anything today?”

“I will come down soon,” Beatrice said. “Thank you for treating me so kindly.”

“You are welcome, Your Grace. I shall leave you to settle in, and your bags will be brought up shortly.”

“I’m sorry,” Beatrice said quickly. “The room is very bare.”

She looked around, taking in the decor for the first time. She knew the rest of the manor would not be like this—the bedroom had the necessities for clothes storage and such, but there were no artworks on the walls, no curtains, no bed dressings, or anything else to suggest it was lived in.

“Yes,” Mr. Belcot replied. “His Grace thought you might want to add your personal touch to your room. That way, you might feel more at home.”

That is thoughtful, but…

“His Grace does not sleep in here?” Beatrice asked.

“He has the adjoining room,” the housekeeper explained.

She went to the door on the opposite side of the room and tapped on it. She did not open it, however.

The housekeeper’s speech and actions told Beatrice that the setup was the most normal thing in the world. Or perhaps she did not question the Duke in any way about his motives.

“Of course,” Beatrice uttered.

She wondered what else she had not thought of. She had not thought about sharing a bedroom with the Duke, only sharing his bed, but she had not imagined adjoining rooms. In a way, it gave her more freedom, and she liked that.

He mentioned carrying on with our lives as they were before we got married. Does that mean he does not wish to consummate our marriage? Does he not want a family? Or does he have plans to have children with someone else?

“I shall rest,” Beatrice said, wanting to be alone for now.

The housekeeper nodded curtly and left the room, closing the door behind her.

Beatrice flopped down on the bed, surprised at how soft it was. She was in a bad mood and wished for everything to worsen it, but the bed did not comply. It was far too luxurious and comfortable. Still, it did not stop the tears from coming. She didn’t even know what she was crying for. Everything had been clear in her mind at the ball, but she had no idea what her life would be like now. She did not have the faintest idea where she stood with the Duke.

The only thing she had been looking forward to in the entire ordeal was sleeping with the Duke, and that had been taken from her.

Beatrice remained in her bed until a knock sounded at the door and two maids carrying her bags entered. She had them leave her bags by the window. The housekeeper offered her more food, but she declined the offer. She could not stomach anything.

She was restless and tired, while thinking she might never sleep again. The hours passed, and when the sunlight began to dim, the exhaustion took over, and she fell asleep.

* * *

Edwin sat at his desk, eating a small plate of bread and meat the kitchen had prepared when he returned from his business dealings. He’d not had time to eat while he was out, and while he was ravenous, he still did not have time to sit down for a full meal. There were ledgers to review and contracts to double-check before being sent to the lawyers.

He looked toward the doorway and almost dropped the hunk of bread in his hand. His initial shock clouded his judgment, and he thought a spirit had visited his room, but he quickly realized it was Beatrice. No one else would visit him so late in his study without him sending for them, but Beatrice had.

He was used to solitude, and having a wife would take some getting used to.

“Beatrice, are you well?” he asked. “I thought you were asleep.”

“I couldn’t sleep, and then I could, and then I couldn’t again,” she replied.

Beatrice wore a housecoat, and Edwin could only imagine the thin shift she wore beneath. He had no time to indulge her, with his pressing business dealings to attend to, but his mind did stray to what was beneath her outer clothes.

“I thought I should find you,” she said.

“Oh,” Edwin murmured.

“I wanted to apologize again for everything that has happened. If you let me explain everything, I am sure you will understand completely.”

“I already understand completely,” Edwin replied, eager to get back to work. “You need not explain anything, and if I am being honest, your reasons don’t affect mine. I saw an opportunity, and I took it.”

“I need to talk to you,” Beatrice stated.

The Duke looked at her—she looked a different woman, someone not to be trifled with.

“Then talk,” he told her.

Beatrice looked frustrated. “You mentioned that we should live our lives as we have been living them, and I wish you to know that if you are to take a mistress or mistresses, or if you have some already, I will not be annoyed by it. I will do as you ask to make amends for all that has happened.”

“Oh, stop apologizing,” Edwin huffed. “And what is this talk of mistresses? I have no time for such nonsense. I have you, don’t I?”

Beatrice frowned. “I came here to talk, and you dismiss my apologies. I only thought with it being our wedding day, and then the business that you had to attend to, that…”

Edwin placed his quill back in its holder and gave her his full attention. “Is that what this is all about? You think I invented an excuse to leave this morning?”

“Did you?” Beatrice asked. “I thought it was traditional to… you know?”

Edwin let out a laugh—a full, hearty, booming laugh that had not come from his lips in some time. Of everything he had done so far, his laugh was the one thing that surprised Beatrice the most, and she looked positively shocked, standing in the doorway.

“You don’t need to laugh at me,” Beatrice huffed.

“I can’t help it,” he replied.

“I am trying to find some common ground.”

“It sounds as if you are begging me to bed you.” Edwin smiled.

Beatrice gasped, and her face reddened. “I am doing no such thing. I only want things to be done properly.”

“As do I,” the Duke replied. “If I did not wish to have you in my bed, I would tell you, Beatrice. Don’t worry, I want to see your body, but perhaps when you are less confrontational.”

Beatrice put her hands on her hips. “I am not confrontational! I’m only… clearing the air. I don’t care one bit if you want me in your bed or not. I only want to know where I stand.”

“Or where you lie?” the Duke teased.

Beatrice shook her head and tried not to smile. “I am trying to remain civil.”

Edwin laughed again—she had looked so nervous while accusing him. “And I am trying to make you uncivil.”

Beatrice kept her hands on her hips and shook her head. “I am not in the mood for such games. Did you really have business to attend to?”

“Yes, I did. I have a lot of business to attend to in the coming months, and if I am not on top of it all, well… I don’t need to bore you with the details.” Edwin chuckled. “To go back to your previous point about mistresses, I thank you for your permission, but I don’t need it. I don’t need to explain my business to you either. And I don’t need to give excuses for things I don’t want to do. However, in this instance, I will indulge you.”

“You don’t have to indulge me,” Beatrice said. “We are married, and we are supposed to work together, are we not?”

“Perhaps we are,” the Duke replied.

“I don’t want to sit around and do as I am told. We both have lives to live, but we have a life together also.”

“That is true.” The Duke weighed her words. “When I went to your father’s house to ask for your hand, you mentioned something that has stuck with me. It is why you ran away from your first match, and it is part of the reason you didn’t want to wed Lord Mutton. You wished to get to know your suitor before you married him. In my case, that was an impossibility. However, I do have a lot of business to attend to, so I will grant you a week.”

“A week?” Beatrice frowned.

“A week to get to know me before I take you in my bed. I believe that is fair.”

Beatrice looked disappointed, but she quickly composed herself. “Yes, that is more than fair. Why are you doing this for me?”

Edwin stood up, and if she had been in the room, she might have backed up to the door. She looked like a little mouse, ready to scurry away at the first sign of danger.

“Come here,” he ordered.

Beatrice hesitated but did as she was told. She approached him cautiously, looking over her shoulder as if checking that there was still a way to escape him.

The Duke continued to beckon her over until she stood before him. He thought about ripping her housecoat off her right there, but he really did not have the time.

“I am doing this for you because I am a reasonable and honorable man, despite what you might have heard about me. I don’t like to have something I have not earned. I took you, but you are not mine. I want you to know who I am before I claim you, Beatrice. I don’t want you to do as I bid because you feel it is your duty—or worse, because you are scared of me. I do not need to bed any other women, only you. Do you understand?”

Beatrice’s cheeks reddened, and her breathing became shallow and quick. The housecoat was thick and wrapped around her from both sides, covering her bust, but her chest still rose and fell beneath, betraying her pleasure.

“I am not a savage,” Edwin added.

Beatrice was at a loss for words and could only nod.

Edwin wanted to send her off, but he needed a taste of what would come. He grabbed her by the waist, and she let out a small yelp. He pulled her into him, holding her tight, and his lips met hers without resistance.

The kiss was slow and passionate, his tongue working its way carefully into her mouth. It was not met by her tongue but with a moan. She brought her palms first up to his chest and then around to his back, her fingers digging into his flesh through his shirt.

Edwin explored her back, his hands trailing down to her plump rear, squeezing it. Another moan escaped her lips. His heart beat quicker, and his hands itched to move inside her robe and take her on his desk, but he had made a promise to her (and to himself), and he would keep it.

They broke apart, and Beatrice stood panting and looking down at her feet. She had not expected anything when visiting his study, especially not a kiss. Edwin enjoyed catching her unaware, and he enjoyed the look of submission on her face. Despite what he had told her, he could do whatever he wanted to her and she would not resist.

He was not a man who needed power, but he enjoyed having it. Perhaps the short time in his study had shown her he was not a man to be afraid of, and she would stop acting like a submissive mouse when in his company.

“You have one week to prepare yourself,” he reminded her. “You should get some rest. I like to have breakfast early, and I would like you to be there with me.”

“All right,” Beatrice said softly. “Thank you, Your Grace.”

Before she turned to leave, she looked up at Edwin, and while he expected to see her lust, he saw something else. He couldn’t quite decipher the new look in her eyes, but it was akin to acceptance. Perhaps acceptance of her new life.

He knew it was not easy for her, but it was not easy for him either. If he could have done it another way, he would have. Their life together would take some getting used to, but he felt a difference during his time with her.

The Duke enjoyed the way her hips swayed from side to side as she sashayed out of the room, and he imagined his hands on them as he kissed her neck. He might have had a good life with Agnes if they had wed, but during their time together, he had never wished to get to know her better. Beatrice caught his interest in some way, and he wanted to know who she was before he explored her intimately.