Chapter Thirteen

W hile the marriages of the Trembley brothers were wildly reported on, considering their unique circumstances, the wedding ceremony itself was a small affair, particularly when bearing in mind that there were three brides and three grooms. Double weddings were uncommon enough, but a triple wedding was practically unheard of, and while only a few had been invited in to watch, there were many people gathered outside who had come out just to see the fanfare.

But that had been expected. Though Derek never much minded crowds, he wasn't particularly pleased when he had seen the crowd upon his arrival at St. George's Church. The pews were filled with family and friends, and for the first time in a long time, Derek was nervous. But all that disappeared the moment he saw Mabel being escorted down the aisle. Silas, who had graciously offered to give away the Meadow sisters alongside Violet, walked behind the three women. Mabel was in the middle, and when she reached Derek, he was at a loss for words.

Her plum-colored gown matched the Trembley tiara perfectly, and the amount of pride he had from seeing her in it did things to him that he never expected. His heart thudded almost painfully in his chest and squeezed when she reached him.

Leona and Violet peeled off to each side of Derek, taking their prospective husbands' hands while his own bride waited for him. Attentively, he reached out his hand, and Mabel took it, standing next to him while they waited for the bishop to step forward and begin.

All throughout the ceremony, Derek could barely follow what the bishop was saying. All he could manage was to stare at Mabel, who appeared lovelier than any woman he had ever seen—but who also seemed to be carrying an alarming amount of tension. Her apparent worry, the slight downward turn of the corners of her mouth, and the anxiety in her silver-blue eyes concerned him. Something was bothering her, and once they were away from everyone, he would discover whatever it was and promptly find a way to set her at ease.

But as soon as the ceremony was over, they were loaded into an open barouche and were paraded through Mayfair back to the Trembley Manse. Derek had barely been able to ask her how she was doing when they were being unloaded in front of the house.

If anyone had believed that the dowager countess's tulip party had been over-the-top, the sheer number of roses that had been brought into the manse that morning would have shocked them. Indeed, they'd have seemed excessive to even the most extravagant party throwers.

Every available inch had been covered in peach and white blooms. The dowager countess had somehow managed to have the house transformed while they were at the church. To see Mabel's face glow with wonder at the sight made Derek's heart expand. As they made their way through the foyer and into the dining room where the wedding breakfast was to be held, he picked up a single, half-unfurled peach rose placed on a hallway table and handed it to Mabel.

She seemed stunned momentarily, but then a small grin curved her lips, setting off a wave of gladness through Derek as she cupped it with her fingers. If he could make her smile, perhaps he could obliterate her anxiety before tonight.

Derek exhaled. He would be lying if he said he hadn't thought about their wedding night ever since she had said yes to his proposal. They had only been together once, yet Derek had been unable to sleep peacefully since. He longed to hold Mabel.

But he couldn't think about that now. Instead, he focused on the table as people congratulated them.

The food was decadent, and the guests were cheerful, but while Derek's bride appeared pleased, her body language conveyed the opposite. Mabel was a woman of contradictions, and there was still so much he didn't know or didn't understand about her. The situation was not helped, of course, by their animosity when they first met. He had to admit that neither he nor Mabel showed the other person their best versions of themselves. Derek had been haughty and arrogant; Mabel had been biting and conniving. They had lived down to each other's worst expectations, bringing Derek a tremendous amount of comfort. Because if that was the worst of Mabel, he couldn't help but be excited at the prospect of getting to know more of her.

"And another toast to my brother, Derek," Alfred said, lifting a flute full of champagne with his arm around the waist of his bride. "While the start of this journey was unconventional, I couldn't be happier for you."

"Here, here!" Fredrick said as everyone murmured their agreement.

It was not lost on Derek that this was not a situation that anyone in the house had anticipated. Yet still, Mabel, who had been perhaps too vocal in her protests the days leading up to the wedding for his liking, was all smiles. She displayed her most pleased personality for everyone else. It was a convincing act, but Derek noted the tension that still held her rigid, and it made him uneasy. He held his tongue and talked with his family and friends as they filtered in and out of the morning room that had an excellent view of the garden.

"It was a lovely ceremony," his mother said behind him. Turning, Derek saw her, eyes glittering. "Imagine. All my boys married on the same day. What were the odds?"

"It was certainly a Trembley wedding. Nothing quite like it in all of London."

"And I suspect all of you will be very pleased with your wives."

Derek took a sip of his champagne.

"I hope so."

His tone didn't explicitly betray his uncertainty about Mabel, but his mother frowned with concern.

"Oh, Derek," she said softly, stepping toward him. "Do tell me that you believe you've made the right choice."

"Little I could do about it now."

"I'm not questioning that," she said. "I mean, you believe that Mabel will be a dutiful wife, don't you?"

The idea of Mabel being docile and obedient almost made him laugh. But he didn't need to worry his mother about such things.

"I'm sure she will."

Placated, his mother nodded.

"Good. You know, I thought it would be a shame for such a woman to disappear from our shores when I first saw her."

"Did you?"

"Yes. She's a spirited woman, but she isn't foolish," she said, lifting her chin. "She reminded me of myself actually, in my younger years."

"Is that so?"

"Yes."

"Well, you've managed to say the exact opposite of what every son wishes to hear on their wedding day—that apparently I've married my mother."

She swatted his arm.

"Sharp-tongued devil," she chastised him. "And you should be so lucky. But no. She is entirely her own person in many ways, though I do believe we share a clever, lively sort of spirit. But your wife comes off as far stronger than most, even to a fault. That is a trait I never had. I was never so bold as to go about believing that I didn't need a husband."

Derek faced her.

"You think she doesn't need me?"

"No. I think she thinks she doesn't need you. Which is a conundrum in and of itself."

"How so?"

"Well, whether she thinks she needs you or not, she has chosen you. And that is far more important than marrying someone because she needs to."

"But she didn't choose me. It was a result of—"

"No, my dear," his mother said. "She could have left and found a fine life in America."

"But her devotion to her sister wouldn't allow it—not when her leaving without a marriage would tarnish Leona's reputation."

"Her devotion to her sister has nothing to do with your marriage," she said softly. "She chose it."

His mother gave him a comforting look and went about her way, engaging in a conversation with an elderly lady, an ancient aunt who had attended the wedding.

Derek glanced across the room to see Mabel laughing and chatting with one of their guests. She appeared so effortlessly engaging and beautiful that he foolishly felt somewhat jealous that he wasn't in her presence at that moment, but that was ridiculous. Mabel was his wife, and he would have the pleasure of her company for the rest of his life.

He certainly wouldn't give her a reason to leave him as her last husband had.

After breakfast, everyone saw the others off. Alfred and Leona were taking their honeymoon to the continent, and Fredrick and Violet were going north to Scotland.

Only Derek and Mabel were staying in London. In response to this, the dowager countess had decided to visit her cousins for the remainder of the summer. It was a tactful way to leave the newlyweds alone, and one Derek appreciated.

The crowd came to the foyer and out onto the front steps of the Trembleys' Mayfair home. Two carriages taking the couples to their different destinations were waiting on the quiet street, and those walking by stilled to watch it all play out.

Alfred smirked at his brothers and patted Fredrick on the back. He grinned up at Derek.

"Well, to new adventures," he said as his bride kissed Mabel on the cheek.

"Goodbye, Mabel," Leona said, her eyes filled with joyous tears as she hugged her sister. "I can't believe we won't see one another for two entire months."

"It will go by very fast, I'm sure," Mabel said, her voice tight. "Besides, you'll be too busy to miss me."

"As will you," she said, facing Derek. "Take good care of her."

"There's no need for all that," Mabel said, but Derek took her arm and met Leona's gaze with calm determination.

"I will," he said, so seriously that he was sure it conveyed all he wanted.

Mabel peered up at him as their siblings hurried away and all too soon, the rest of the newlyweds had departed. The remainder of their wedding guests left, and soon enough, they were left alone—the only two people in the house, aside from the servants who were far too busy cleaning up to pay them any mind.

Mabel and Derek made their way up the staircase for their first night together as husband and wife. As they reached the second story, Derek let himself lean toward her.

"How are you?" he asked gently.

"As good as one can be, I suppose. How are you?"

"There's no need to worry about me."

"I'm not worried," she said. "It's just that you've never had a wedding night before."

The gentle reminder that this wasn't her first marriage made Derek stop in his tracks. Mabel's cheeky grin melted away at once.

"I'm sorry. I don't know why I said that."

"I know why."

Her eyes snapped to his.

"Do you?"

"Yes. It's because, despite everything, you're nervous."

"Nervous? Ha. What do I have to be nervous about?"

"A fine question and one I'd like an answer to myself," he said, holding up her hand. He pressed his mouth to her knuckles, and she shivered. "I noticed it this morning, in the church. What's worrying you?"

Mabel visibly swallowed as if trying to consume her own emotions. But he squeezed her fingers, urging her on.

"Tell me."

"It's just… the last time, I was left quite alone, almost immediately." She spoke with her eyes lowered as if meeting his gaze would expose too much. "And I suppose I'm just waiting."

"Waiting for what?"

She lifted her blue gaze.

"Waiting for you to tire of this situation. To realize that you've won—that there's no challenge left here—and then… I don't know. I suppose I'm waiting for you to leave."

Derek stared at her. He couldn't possibly tell her how his heart ached at her words, but then he couldn't let her keep believing such nonsense.

"Mabel, I'm not going to tire of this situation."

"Aren't you?"

"No," he said, somewhat more forcefully than he had meant to. "I'm not Pascal."

"I know that," she said.

"Do you?"

She nodded. "I didn't mean to upset you. It's just where my mind has been all day."

"Then will you grant me the chance to change it?"

She cocked her head. "How so?"

"Come," he said, taking her hand as he led her away. But he didn't take her to his bedroom. Instead, he led her back down the stairs and down the hallway.

"Where are we going?" she asked, perplexed.

"I'm assuming that once you and Pascal were on the ship that you boarded after your wedding, you retired to a private cabin?"

"Yes, of course."

"Well, that's the thing of it. I don't think you should have quite the same experience."

"You don't?"

"No."

"So where are we going?"

He didn't answer and only led her to the library, where they had first had a private conversation. Derek wished he could eradicate all of Mabel's painful memories but knew it was impossible. He could, however, help her make new memories.

When they reached the library, he cocked his head to glimpse at her over his shoulder and found that she was smiling. Emboldened by that, he dragged her into the room, releasing her as he closed the door. Spinning back around, he saw her watching him with fascination.

"This is rather unconventional, isn't it?"

"It is," he said, stalking toward her.

She laughed, and his entire body pulsated. Her giggling faded, however, when he reached up and touched her cheek. Taking a deep breath, she stared into his eyes. Her sole focus was on him, and he had never been so sure of himself in his entire life.

"I have something for you," he told her.

"You do?" she asked.

"Mm-hmm." He turned away from her as he headed for his desk.

A small wooden box sat alone in the center of his writing table. Picking it up, he handed it to her. Confusion flooded her face as she slowly raised her hands to take it.

"What is it?"

"Open it."

Her mouth scrunched to the side as she viewed her gift before opening the top. He waited, anticipating her reaction. At first, she frowned, unsure what she was seeing, but then, it happened. Mabel's eyes widened, and her nostrils flared slightly. She looked up at him, then back down.

"What… How?"

Satisfaction rolled within Derek's chest as pride filled him. He had surprised her. It was a glorious fulfillment, knowing he could amaze her. Even before she had touched it, he was already devising ways to make her light up like this again.

"Derek," she breathed as she scooped out a deck of Flemish Hunting cards. "How did you find these?"

"I made an inquiry or two," he lied, unwilling to admit just how difficult it had been to find them. "Do you like them?"

She opened her mouth to speak but closed it, obviously uncertain how to respond. He basked for a few moments in being particularly pleased with himself, before his heart sank at the slight, sniffling sound she made.

Oh dear. He had made her cry. Bollocks .

"Are you all right?"

"Yes," she said, shaking her head as she gripped the deck of cards in her hand, placing the wooden box down on the desk. "Yes, I'm quite all right."

Taking a step toward her, he reached out, then hesitated—wanting to touch her, but uncertain if his touch would be welcome.

"Listen Mabel, I want you to know that I'm aware you're not particularly pleased with this arrangement—"

"That's not true."

He didn't believe her. "You needn't lie."

"I'm not lying," she said, shaking her head. "It's just that, it's all rather sudden, isn't it? And I have had years of believing that this was not something for me."

"What? Marriage?"

She nodded.

"Because of the problems with your first marriage? But those were hardly your fault. Why should they mean you could not find happiness with someone else?"

"Because I don't deserve it," she said. "I was too brash in my youth. Too confident in my choices. In the end, I chose poorly, and I suffered the consequences. The experience…it changed me. I'm not as kind as I once was. It might even be said that I'm mean, particularly to you. I'm jaded, distrusting. Those are not the things any man would want in a bride. So, I had made peace with the idea of spending the rest of my life alone."

She was being too hard on herself.

"But my love, if you spent the rest of your life alone, who would I spend my life with?"

The softness of his question made her want to reach out to him, and almost before she was aware of it, she found her hand reaching out to caress his face.

"I think there would have been at least a hundred women better suited for you than myself. This marriage may prove a risky gamble."

He shook his head.

"I doubt it," he said, dipping his head down closer to hers. "Besides, I can't help but think that lady luck has smiled on me today."

With that, he leaned in and pressed his mouth to hers. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Mabel drop the cards to the table. Her fingers came up into his soft hair as she kissed him deeply. Like a man touched by Aphrodite's spell, he peeled back his coat as he kissed her, untying his cravat while she clawed at the bottom of his shirt.

Derek reached behind Mabel as she undid his vest buttons. Her gown was tied at the waist, with a series of clasps held the gown together at the back, and once she was finished with his vest, he turned her in an effort not to tear the garment from her body.

She twitched her right shoulder up, escaping the sheer sleeve of her gown. Slowly, he watched as she loosened her other arm from its sleeve and drew the garment down. He made short work of the long corset with ties down the back as the piece of clothing fell to the floor with a soft thud.

Embarrassingly, though, his eagerness was apparent as his hands began to shake. Pausing for a moment, he flexed his fingers, trying to get a handle on his tremor. But he was not able to repress it soon enough. Mabel turned, reaching for his trembling hands, but he drew away before she could make contact.

She frowned.

"What is it?"

"It's nothing."

"If it were nothing, I'd not be curious about it," she said softly, reaching for his hand again. This time, he let her. "They did not shake the night in the fish folly."

"We weren't…"

She was not his wife then, and as ridiculous as it was, being married, bound to one another, made the moment heavy with meaning in a way that was entirely new to him. Still, he did not wish to admit his feelings at that moment. Thankfully, recognition spread across her face at his silence.

"Oh."

For a moment, he was sure she was going to press the issue. Instead, and quite suddenly, she gathered the chemise she was wearing in her grip and swiftly heaved it up over her head before tossing the piece to the floor, leaving her gloriously bare.

While most everyone believed that a virginal wife on her wedding day was something to be admired, Derek had never been so grateful that the opposite was true. He had worried somewhat that Mabel's previous relationship might tarnish their time together, but in actuality, he could only be delighted that it left him with a woman who knew her own desires.

She stepped toward him, so there were barely inches between them, and once more reached for his hand. She placed it at the center of her chest, between her rounded breasts, and held him there until, to his surprise, the shaking relaxed.

As distracting as it was that she was standing naked in front of him, he couldn't help but be amazed. Usually, the only thing that would stop him from shaking was a forced meditation he practiced when he was alone.

Profoundly grateful, and nearly blistering with his clothes still on, Derek quickly undressed, never taking his gaze off Mabel. Her gentle smirk faded once he was undressed, and for a moment, they only stood there, staring at one another.

With a painstaking slowness, Derek's hand approached Mabel's face, grazing her cheek. She closed her eyes and leaned her face into his palm as the softest of moans escaped her lips. God, she was perfect. Once again, he was grateful that he would not have to go slowly as he pulled her close and kissed her.

Mabel's palms were instantly at his shoulders, her fingertips digging into his skin. She held onto him as his tongue searched her mouth, kissing and nibbling at her lips, tongue, and chin as he gathered her up into his arms.

Skin against skin, he brought her over to the gaming table. He placed her down in a half-leaning, half-seated situation before lowering himself onto his knees before the table's edge. A gasp came from somewhere above his head, but he was too desperate to take any note of it, filled with the need to taste her once more.

When his mouth found her core, Mabel's leg spasmed, which oddly made him gleeful as he feasted on her. Never in his life had he been so desperate to taste a woman again, and yet he knew at that moment that he would likely be desperate for her for the rest of his life.

The slickness increased as he shifted. His middle finger came up and moved in and out, pumping in a slow, near-torturous way as her soft murmurs became moans. He wanted to give her every pleasure, and when he had found the rhythm that suited her best, he carefully maintained it as she crumbled and came.

Mabel was shaking against the green felt of the table as Derek stood on unsteady legs. He thought he had never seen anything so beautiful. Her dark hair was spread out around her head like a halo, with one hand by her head and the other at her breast. One leg was bent up while the other hung over the table's edge.

Consumed with need and desire, Derek leaned over her only to be stilled by a hand on his chest.

"My turn," she breathed as she hoisted herself up while dragging him down to the table.

Before Derek's shoulders were even pressed against the table, Mabel was on her knees and her mouth was on him, causing a ferocious tremor to tear through him. His hips bucked as his fists balled at his sides. Lord above, he wanted to hold her, to touch her, but he held back, more desperate to see what she might do on her own.

Mabel's tongue swirled around his cock, in between short bursts of rapid sucking as his mind went blissfully blank. God forbid she ever ask him anything while performing this task, for he would promise her the world and deliver it, if only for the promise to be at her mercy again.

Mabel was generous, if not wicked. Just as the primal build of his desire became uncontrollable, she drew away and rose so that she was face to face with him. To his surprise, she was smiling. He opened his mouth to speak, but before he could, she shifted, moving so that her leg came over him, and in a stunning second, he was in her.

Slowly, she pumped her hips back and forth as Derek silently swore his undying allegiance to her. It was mad, the things that raced through his heart as she gyrated above him. For a moment, he wondered if he should shift, but then her breathing became short and sporadic, as did his own, and in the next moment, they were both shaking from expended pleasure.

Mabel's limp form fell over his chest, and Derek held onto her tightly as he kissed her shoulder. The fiercest sensations cascaded over him as her breath slowed and evened. He wanted to protect her, to keep her happy and content for the rest of his days, if only for the pleasure of seeing her smile.

He was devoted to her, far more than any man should be to his wife, and yet, even knowing that he couldn't stop himself.

After many minutes, Mabel lethargically lifted her head. Her eyes were half closed, and a satisfied grin appeared on her lips.

"Derek," she whispered.

"Hmm?"

"Take me to our bed."

The gentle command and the promise of things yet to come filled his heart with spirits he couldn't quite name. Instead, he pressed a kiss to her forehead.

"As you wish."