Chapter 9

Hopes And Dreams

Beatrice removed her dress and laid it beside the bed. Her breathing quickened, knowing the door could open at any time. She hoped it would open soon and she could do what she had come to do. As she got into the large bed, she looked around the room. The Earl of Pemberton’s room was luxurious and decadent, and she could not help but scan every inch of it.

She had been in there for less than a minute when she heard the doorknob rattle, and her heart jumped into her throat. She had on her shift and was covered with a thick cotton blanket, but she felt exposed. She pulled the blanket up to her chin as she waited for the Earl.

When the door was pushed open, she didn’t see the Earl. Instead, the Duke of Walford stood in the doorway, a burning intensity glowing in his eyes. He looked straight toward the bed as if he had come searching for her and the Earl’s bedroom was the most logical place to look.

The fire in his eyes had dimmed, but in the embers was the lustful look of a wild animal chasing down its prey. Beatrice was the prey, but she gave herself willingly to the devilishly handsome man as he gazed upon her. She did not move or reveal herself, but she met his fiery gaze with a softness intended to douse the flames. Her inactivity said one thing: come to me and take me.

The Duke fully entered the room and closed the door behind him. As soon as it clicked shut, Beatrice forgot entirely why she was there. She could not remember anything that happened before the door opened, and in the deep waters of lost memory, she bathed herself. Nothing mattered when a handsome man was undressing before her.

Still, she did not let go of the blankets. Beatrice did not feel shy, but she kept her modesty for now. It almost made her giggle to see the Duke lose his. The shirt came off, and she pulled the blankets up to stifle a gasp. Her eyes fixed on his chest, and in her own chest, a warmth rose and fell in time with her breathing.

It was not only in her chest. Feelings were coursing through her body and blooming like wildflowers in spring. Small explosions of soft passion burst forth from within, making goose pimples spread across her skin.

When his trousers were dropped to the floor, Beatrice almost lost her composure. She had to keep it for… she did not remember what for, now that the Duke was almost completely naked before her. His undergarments dropped, and she quickly averted her gaze, unable to cope with the newest revelation. She buried her head in the blankets, unable to calm her heartbeat or slow her breathing.

She had orchestrated the situation but was not in control of it.

The blankets shifted, and she whimpered softly. She gripped the covers until her knuckles turned white, not daring to look at the man climbing into the bed. She pulled the blankets over her head, unsure if she should climb out of the bed and leave the room. She needed to?—

Her immediate thoughts were interrupted by his touch. It was not a gentle caress or a single finger drawn across her almost bare skin, but a hand claiming her midriff. Tingles shot across her body, ending in her fingers and toes. Beatrice squeezed her eyes shut, not daring to acknowledge the pleasure running through her veins. Every instinct told her to get out of there, but her body betrayed her.

No, it did not betray her, because her heart and mind wanted exactly the same thing. She wanted his pleasure, needed it. She tried not to show how nervous she was, frozen in place. She only focused on his touch, as if it were the only thing in the world. If she were able to think about it, she would have realized it was the only thing in the world. She had forgotten where she was and why she was there—she barely remembered her own name.

His other hand trailed down her thigh until it found the hem of her shift, and then he lifted it over her head. It was terrifying and completely natural at the same time. She was not ready to be with a man, but Edwin was different. Still, she kept her eyes closed.

As soon as the thin undergarment was removed and her creamy body was bare, the Duke’s hands roved over her again. They found curves and valleys, small mountains, and flat plains. They raked over her as if they had done it a thousand times, and it was the most wonderful feeling Beatrice had ever felt—she wished to feel it a thousand more times.

Then his body was on hers, and she did not think the warmth was possible. His skin was burning, but then it cooled. His arms took her in his embrace, and though she knew him to be a cruel man, she felt safe with him. She was comfortable and cautious. His hands went to her more intimate parts, and everything became a blur. His hands moved so quickly as to cover her entire body at once, and her lips ached to touch his without ever finding them.

There was a dam, an old wooden structure holding back too much water. The water was warm and non-threatening, but Beatrice needed to hold it back. She did not know what would happen if the dam broke, but it was too much to imagine. Too pleasurable?

She fought against it, each moment of rebellion making her want it more. She knew she had to fight back against what was coming, but it was hard when she knew that the relief to come was the greatest feeling she would ever experience.

Clarity flashed in her mind—she knew the next moment would decide her fate, and she knew she could not hold out any longer. Not against the Duke. So, she relaxed her body and accepted him. The dam broke, and the water gushed forth, covering her with its intensity, and she was washed away into?—

Beatrice woke up with a start.

She did not know where she was, but she knew what she was feeling. Her face was hot, and she could feel the blush blooming in her cheeks. She sat up in bed, trying to figure out why her chest was heaving and her heart was pounding. There had been water and pleasure, and the Duke was there. And did he?—?

She placed the back of her hand on her head as she gripped onto the dissipating dream. She was with the Duke, and he was… touching her. Beatrice moved both hands to her cheeks as they reddened further. She couldn’t quite remember what he had been doing anymore, but she suddenly needed him to touch her now.

She got out of bed and went to the pitcher of water on the dresser. She knew where she was now—the bedroom assigned to her by the Duke. The bare walls reminded her. She splashed her burning cheeks with water. But with her body moving, she realized it was not only her cheeks that were burning with desire.

Suddenly, a knock sounded at the door, startling her. It had come from the main door and not the one connecting her room to the Duke’s. Still, Beatrice worried that her husband had come to finish what he had started in her dream, and she did not want him to see her in her current state, no matter how much she desired his touch.

“Yes?” she called.

“Your Grace, I have been assigned to you by His Grace. I heard you stir and thought you might need help getting ready for the day. Might I enter?”

“Oh, um, yes, please come in,” Beatrice replied.

The young lady’s maid entered, and if Beatrice’s cheeks were burning bright, she showed no sign of noticing. The maid looked in her early twenties and had a plain face and wonderful bouncy curls that had been tied up in a ponytail.

“What is your name?” Beatrice asked.

“Penelope, Your Grace,” the maid replied.

“Penelope, would you select something from my clothes that would be suitable for breakfast?”

“Of course, Your Grace.”

Penelope picked out a modest morning dress for Beatrice, before pairing it with a simple necklace and brooch and arranging Beatrice’s hair into a simple chignon. Beatrice took an extra moment to compose herself before asking the maid to show her to the breakfast room.

Get a hold of yourself, and don’t let him see how much he affects you, even if it were only a dream.

A dream and a kiss. The dream might have been pure fantasy, but the kiss was not, and she still thought of it. It was likely what had triggered the dream in the first place.

The maid gestured toward the open door, and Beatrice held her head high as she entered. She had not yet crossed the threshold when she felt her lust whip itself up into a frenzy.

Edwin sat at the head of the table, and he did not do anything to provoke her in any way, but she could not help herself after what she had experienced during the night. She did not know what his body looked like under his well-fitting attire, but she could make a reasonably good assumption, as her mind had during her slumber.

He looked up and nodded at her, and his gaze felt like a challenge. His eyes had always held a burning intensity, but that morning, it felt like it was directed solely at her. He deftly moved his fork as he stabbed at small chunks of golden-brown ham, and she remembered his fingers dancing over her body. When he brought the fork to his mouth, she found that she could not take her eyes off his lips.

“Won’t you sit down, my dear,” Modesty said. “You are tiring me out by standing at the door. Come in, come in. We won’t bite. And if we do, it won’t hurt!”

She chuckled to herself, but no one else joined in. That was mainly because the joke was not a funny one, but in Beatrice’s case, it was because she was mortified at being caught staring at the Duke while his stepmother and sister were also in the room.

“Yes, thank you,” Beatrice replied quickly, relieved that her face had not reddened.

She found her way to the chair on the Duke’s left, assuming she should sit there, but she was quite bewildered by the scene. She knew she should have assumed nothing after the previous evening, but she had thought she would be alone with her husband.

Thought or hoped?

“The breakfast looks wonderful,” she commented, trying to break the tension, most of which seemed to be hers.

She was usually extremely talkative and charming, but everything had caught her unaware.

“His Grace made sure we had the very best of everything for this morning,” Elizabeth revealed.

Beatrice sat down, and a footman pushed her chair in. “Oh?”

“We did not have a wedding breakfast, so I thought it fitting that we have a family breakfast to celebrate our union,” Edwin explained.

Beatrice was not sure if she should feel honored or not. It was fantastic to have so much to choose from at breakfast, but it did not feel like a celebration. In fact, it felt like her marriage was done and dusted—a past event that needed no more ceremony.

She began helping herself to food—taking some apple slices, raspberries, and soft cheese. Beatrice caught Modesty’s and Elizabeth’s gaze and smiled at them both politely. She dared not look the Duke in the eye, for the feelings it would bring back.

“Did you sleep well, my dear?” Modesty asked. Her voice had a lilting quality to it, as if she might break into song at any moment.

“I did, thank you,” Beatrice replied.

Edwin continued to eat without saying a word.

“That is a wonderful dress. Where did you get it?” Modesty asked. “I shall have to copy the pattern so I can make one of my own. Do you know that I sew my own garments? Some say it is a waste of time, but I find it much more satisfying.”

“Yes, quite,” Beatrice said. “It was from Gibbard’s.”

Modesty looked at Beatrice with a slightly furrowed brow. “I’m sorry? Gibbard’s?”

“The dress,” Beatrice clarified. “You asked where it was from.”

“I did?” Modesty rubbed her forehead. “Yes, I must have, haven’t I?”

“When will you have children?” Elizabeth blurted out.

Beatrice could not work out the young woman. She had a suspicious attitude, and she did not know where it came from.

“Elizabeth,” Edwin scolded.

“What?” Elizabeth asked, seemingly shocked. “Is that not what comes next, or am I mistaken about marriage? It was a perfectly good question, Edwin.”

Edwin shook his head and picked up the newspaper, leaving Beatrice to fend for herself. Elizabeth clasped her hands together and stared at Beatrice.

“Oh, you wish me to answer?” Beatrice asked.

Elizabeth nodded. “Mmm-hmm.”

Beatrice looked at Edwin, but his face was hidden behind the newspaper. She groaned inwardly.

“Um, I don’t know,” she said.

The question was equal parts intrusive and exciting. The Duke had promised pleasure in a week, minus a day now, and he would surely want to start a family, which meant more pleasure. She hoped it meant more pleasure. He had a well-known reputation in the city, but he had shown tenderness in his kiss.

Still, he was happy to remain hidden behind his newspaper.

“I am sure we will have a family in time,” Beatrice added.

She looked at him again, but he gave no indication that he had heard anything anyone had said.

It made Beatrice nervous to consider starting a family after marriage amid a whirlwind. She did not have anyone to talk to about it. She had expected to be alone with the Duke, but his stepmother and sister were here too, which made her feel more alone. It was as if it were her against the three of them instead of how it should be—she and her husband against the world.

Of course, that would only have happened if she had been allowed to marry for love.

“Will you host a ball here?” Elizabeth asked.

“I… I suppose that will be up to His Grace,” Beatrice replied.

“If it were up to Edwin, we would do nothing in Walford Estate except host business meetings. You simply must host a ball and invite everyone,” Elizabeth gushed.

“Yes, perhaps that is a good idea,” Beatrice said, hoping to get on her sister-in-law’s good side.

She studied both women at the table, and it had become obvious to her that Modesty lived in her own little world. She was unsure about Elizabeth, though. The questions could be the curiosity of a young woman, or she might be probing for more. Such as the real reason they had married in such a rush, when they had no contact prior to the incident at the ball.

Her dream came flooding back. Beatrice could not believe she had tried something so idiotic. What she had expected might happen could never have come to pass, but of all the ways it could have gone, marrying the Cruel Duke had never come to her mind.

Everything that has come to pass is my own fault, and I might as well accept that.

“I suppose you will want to redecorate the entire manor,” Elizabeth said.

“No, I would never dream of it,” Beatrice replied. “I find the manor to be beautiful as it is.”

“Oh,” Elizabeth murmured.

Beatrice knew she had given the wrong answer.

“Change can be good,” Modesty added. “You won’t touch the flowers, will you?”

Beatrice did not know what the right answer to that question was. “I don’t know a lot about gardening,” she said noncommittally.

“Oh, my goodness!” Elizabeth gasped. “I just had a thought. What if you host a ball here, and Miss Jennings attends? After everything that happened, that would cause quite the scene.”

Beatrice was sure Elizabeth was trying to stir up trouble for her.

“Elizabeth,” Edwin scolded again. “Do you need to ask so many questions at breakfast? Beatrice has only just come down for breakfast, and she has not had a moment to eat. Now, I believe you are done and have other things to attend to if you are to debut this Season. Mother, will you help Elizabeth?”

“Yes, she has a lot to do and so little time,” Modesty said, as if there were no tension in the room.

“From now on, I shall have breakfast alone with Beatrice, so she won’t be scared off completely,” Edwin declared.

“I was only making conversation,” Elizabeth mumbled.

Beatrice watched the two women leave. She was unsure what she thought of them but understood they could be a lot. When they had departed, she looked at the Duke, or rather at the newspaper he was still hiding behind.

“Thank you,” she said.

The Duke grunted in response.

“I don’t think you are cruel at all,” Beatrice added.

“We shall see,” he muttered from behind the newspaper.