Chapter 11

Chapter Eleven

"I … I suppose I could. For one drink."

The uncertainty Nancy felt was slight, but she paid it no mind as she stepped back into her husband's study.

She lowered Dash to the floor gently, smiling softly at the puppy, only to tense up as Richard reached around her and pushed the door shut.

She hadn't realized he was so close, pinned down by his dark stare as he gazed down at her. She nearly expected him to change his mind and send her back to bed.

Instead, he stepped back slowly, gesturing towards a settee by the fireplace. "Make yourself at home. I will pour you a drink."

She nodded, wrapping her arms around her middle. "All right… thank you," she replied softly.

He nodded, curt and quick, before walking away from her and Dash.

Nancy looked down at her puppy once more and inhaled deeply, silently hoping for things to go well, as unexpected as this opportunity was.

"Come along, Dash. Let us sit by the fire," she prompted, walking ahead of her dog.

Dash followed her eagerly but overtook her shortly, settling on the elegant rug by the fire with what looked like a content expression. She chuckled softly and sank down into the plush cushions of the settee, sighing softly as her body seemed to relax into the seat.

Richard joined her moments later, holding out a glass with a dark liquid inside it to her. She took it with words of gratitude, only to stare at its contents with suspicion. She glanced up at Richard warily, startled to find him watching her already.

"If you do not wish to drink it, you do not have to," he stated simply, reaching for her glass.

"N-No." Nancy held it out of his reach. "That's not—I will. I will drink it."

Richard huffed with a slight smirk, seemingly amused by her antics.

With a nervous inhale, Nancy lifted the glass to her lips, closing her eyes as she took a sip, oddly calm as the familiar burn of whiskey flooded her senses when she lowered the glass.

"I did not think you would be able to handle it," Richard remarked, impressed.

Nancy shrugged. "My father had no sons or nephews to converse with over a drink. At some point, I took on the role—though most of what I was given was sweet wines. He did offer me whiskey on special occasions."

The Duke's lips curled into a small smile. "He sounds like a special man."

Nancy took another sip, forcing herself to bear the burning sting of the drink, and nodded afterward as she said, "He was."

Richard nodded as he lifted his glass to his lips, downing more than half of its contents.

The silence that filled the air was not uncomfortable but more of a gentle, warm blanket that had settled over them. Even Dash seemed to be enjoying the atmosphere, already asleep where he lay, and Nancy could feel herself relaxing even more—likely because of the whiskey in her veins.

She took a moment to observe the study Richard spent most of his time in, noting that while the room was generally organized, the desk was cluttered and messy, covered in what appeared to be documents and books of different sizes.

Just as she was about to look away and tease him for his disorderliness, her eyes caught something hanging on the wall above his desk.

She recognized the person in the portrait quite quickly as she had seen him a few hours prior in the family portrait that had been in the library.

Without thinking, she asked softly, "Why haven't you put up your own portrait instead?"

"Huh?" Richard made a sound of confusion at first then he followed her gaze, his expression turning blank for a moment.

Nancy feared she might have upset him and opened her mouth to utter an apology.

"Do you not miss your father?" he asked in return, catching her completely off-guard as he cut her off.

It startled her how quickly and readily she responded, practically exhaling, "Terribly."

For the first time since she had known her husband, his expression seemed sad, his gaze wavering slightly. He seemed… apologetic that he had brought up the matter at all.

But to Nancy… he had opened a door she had struggled to open for far too long. And she wasn't going to let it swing shut until she had faced all that she had been unable to face.

"He… My father left us far too suddenly," she began, staring down at her glass. "It was such a normal day. There was nothing amiss—nothing that could have forewarned me of what was going to happen. I … I went to see him in his study for a game of chess. As long as he was not busy, we always played chess together in the afternoons. A-And he had seemed so healthy and happy to see me…"

"I sat down, and we exchanged a few words, after which he urged me to make the first move. I did, but he never got to make his. He—he suddenly was struggling to breathe, and I panicked, not knowing what to do. I called for help when he fell, but… but it wasn't—we couldn't do anything. He died holding onto my hands, trying to speak but…"

"Sometimes… I wondered if it would have made a difference had I known what would befall our family that day. Would… would I have gotten to say the words I desperately wished I had told him before he… Would it h-have been better if he had been sick beforehand, and we knew to expect the inevitable? Would we have had more time? Would it have helped?"

Sometime during her retelling of the events that led to her father's passing, she had stood up and walked to Richard's desk, leaning against it, mindlessly running her hand over the swirls of the gleaming oak top.

With a shaky breath, she raised her glass to her lips, downing a large mouthful of whiskey, barely regretting it as the liquid seared her throat.

Suddenly feeling ashamed, she sighed, risking a glance at her husband. "I am sorry. I didn't mean to?—"

"I never wanted to be a duke."

The admission was so quiet that she nearly missed it. But once the words began to echo in her mind, she couldn't help but shift her whole attention to him.

He was standing now as well, walking towards her slowly as he continued to speak in a voice that seemed heavy with emotion and yet somehow… devoid of it at the same time.

"I am well aware that the entirety of London sees me as a joke, compared to my brother William. I agree—I, better than anyone, was well aware of how perfect he was. I admired him a lot. I loved him very much. And I know I cannot compare to him," he began bitterly and Nancy stepped closer to tell him he was doing just fine, but he simply went on.

"When I inherited the dukedom after his death, it came with a letter from him. He told me he had found me a wife, a woman he thought was perfect for me."

Their eyes met as he finished his sentence, and a shiver went down her spine.

"He said… your social standing wasn't the reason he had chosen you, but it was because the first and only time he had met you, you had been with your father at a ball. And he admired your closeness which greatly contrasted with the… tenuous relationship we had with ours," he added.

Nancy realized that she had indeed met with the Duke's brother once, barely a week after her debut. That time had been such a whirlwind she had barely registered all the names and faces she had become acquainted with. And yet, William remembered her.

"Although I didn't feel as though marriage would suit me or anyone would give me the time of day, because of my reputation, I did it anyway. Because he meant a lot to me, and this title was his before I had to take it on. And I do not want to sully his name and reputation, but I fear I might do that anyway. Just as I have everything else."

Richard looked… tired. She had never noticed how exhausted he appeared until then, the effort and time he had devoted to keeping his family name and honoring his late brother suddenly evident as she saw him in a new light.

And her heart began to ache for him again.

He was so close to her now, enough that she could easily touch him if she simply reached out her hand.

But she didn't. Instead, she spoke up softly, blushing beneath his heavy gaze. "I do not think you are a joke. And neither does Dash."

It sounded quite silly to her after the words were spoken. But they seemed to be the right words to say because shortly after, Richard smiled, the look stunning her into silence, and he chuckled.

"Thank you. I'm glad you both feel that way," he replied in an impossibly soft tone.

"Of course," she meant to say in a cheeky, teasing manner, but it came out breathless instead.

He must have heard it because his eyes darkened suddenly, and even more air escaped her lungs.

Richard stepped closer, now a mere breath away, his touch setting her alight as his hands rested on her hips.

"Nancy," he mumbled, his grip tightening slightly.

And then, his lips were on hers.

Nancy had imagined what her first kiss would feel like, had fantasized about the butterflies she had read about in books and craved the warmth she had dreamt of on warm, sunny days in her mother's garden.

But none of that compared to this moment.

Richard had always seemed somewhat overwhelming to her. And especially now, that notion rang true.

His touch burned her sweetly, more so than the whiskey had, as he held her close, demolishing every single thought in her mind with his lips. His mouth moved hotly against hers, insistent and demanding, and it wasn't long before her lips parted to welcome his tongue, moaning into his mouth as it caressed hers heavily.

His grip on her hips tightened, and before she knew what was happening, he lifted her onto his desk, giving himself more access as he wedged himself between her legs. One of his hands cradled her face, his thumb drawing circles on her cheek while the other ran up her thigh, slipping under the silk fabric of her nightgown.

Nancy shivered, whimpering as his hands continued to explore her, and she braced her hands against his shoulders, knowing nothing more than her desire to have him even closer than he had been.

"My God, Nancy," he panted against her lips, pressing forward.

Just as his thumb trailed up her inner thigh, anticipation thrummed in her veins, and her breath hitched in her throat as his teasing hand finally slid between her legs, his fingertips brushing against her damp center.

"Don't fret, darling," he whispered against her jaw. "I'm going to take very good care of you."

And then he slid a finger inside her.

A breathless moan escaped her lips, and she clapped a hand over her mouth, the other twisting into his soft hair in an effort to ground herself somehow.

The sensations coursing through her were strange but not unwelcome, fueling the desire for more with every passing second.

Richard worked his finger in and out of her slowly, trailing kisses down her neck. Somehow, he managed to slide her dressing gown off her shoulders. Next, he slid the thin straps of her nightdress too, and the fabric pooled down in her lap, exposing her breasts to the cool air of the study.

"Mmm," Richard growled as he lowered his head to her chest, his lips parting over her breast to take a nipple into his mouth.

Nancy gasped into her hand, her eyes squeezing shut as she willed herself not to feel too overwhelmed, shaking when he slid a second finger inside her.

"Don't hold back," Richard hummed in disapproval, the pet name sounding like a purr, making her heart pound erratically.

"Let me hear all the pretty sounds you'll make because of me. Let me know just how much you like this."

Embarrassment burned in her cheeks, and she whined pathetically, still doing what he asked, her now free hand clenching the sheets as his fingers began to slide in and out of her at a faster pace.

She could feel the shattered pieces of her self-control turn to ash, and she dug her fingernails into his back as his fingers increased their pace, stroking her insistently.

Something heavy in her stomach began to unfurl, gradually fueling her with desperation that spilled out in broken moans as the tension rose.

"R-Richard—please?—"

It hit her like a sudden storm, causing her back to arch, her toes curling as the waves of pleasure ripped through her.

She held onto her husband tightly, the sensation sizzling over every nerve within her until she was left panting helplessly.

That… was unlike anything she had ever felt before in her life.

Just as she opened her eyes, she yanked Richard close and kissed him, still dazed from the newfound sensations.

She must have pulled at him clumsily, because she suddenly heard something fall off his desk and land heavily on the floor. The sound startled her such that she nearly yelped, breaking the kiss.

The noise had also woken up Dash, who had immediately risen to his feet and was now whining in fear.

Nancy sat there for a moment, catching her breath as she collected herself, but she'd barely managed to do so as a knock sounded on the door.

"Your Grace? Is everything all right?" a woman's voice came from behind the door and Nancy, too startled and embarrassed by her nakedness, hurriedly put her nightdress and dressing gown back on.

Dash trotted towards her, standing on his hind legs and placing his paws on the side of Richard's desk for balance, his tail waggling with excitement.

Not the best time now, my friend , she thought.

"Yes, yes. Quite all right, thank you. Goodnight," Richard called out in annoyance.

"Very well. Goodnight, Your Grace," the voice said and their footsteps soon faded away.

When Richard turned back to her, he frowned.

Dash barked at both of them, begging for some attention.

Then, Richard stepped back and said, "It is late. You should go to bed. I… I've kept you for long enough."

"Oh, you have not. I'm sure Dash just wants to roam around the castle for a bit, then he'll fall back to sleep quickly," she tried to reach for him, but Richard shook his head.

"You should get some rest too. You've been so busy with the ball's preparations."

Rejection burned hot in her stomach, and she hung her head, embarrassed and defeated as she slipped past him, heading to the fireplace. He didn't stop her as she walked to Dash and scooped him up into her arms.

"Goodnight, Richard," she muttered as she left his study, rushing to her room as though she was being chased.

It wasn't until she was behind locked doors that she felt as though she could breathe again. She set Dash down, and the puppy immediately went to bed, falling asleep the moment he had made himself comfortable.

Nancy stayed where she was, the feeling of her husband pressed against her, his hands holding her as his lips ravished her and his fingers caressed the most secret parts of her body, still fresh in her mind, the heat of his touch lingering on her skin.

Slowly, she reached a hand up to her lips, her fingers lightly tracing them, quietly admitting to herself that she had not wanted it to end.