Chapter 13

CHAPTER13

“Isuppose this is farewell for a month,” Harry muttered, sweeping a hand through hair that was in dire need of a wash.

He stifled a yawn, his breath sour with the scent of the wine and brandy he had consumed the previous night, at the height of the unexpected festivities.

Adam smiled, leaning against the door of the carriage. “I suppose it is. You could return with us if you want. I am not certain you are in any condition to ride your horse.”

“I have ridden my horse while utterly intoxicated and never caused myself, or anyone else, so much as a scratch,” Harry insisted, smiling. “Nor would I want to intrude upon lovers’ paradise.”

“Hardly.” Adam snorted, thinking of last night.

It had taken every shred of willpower he possessed not to turn the handle, step into Nancy’s bedchamber, sweep her up in his arms, and teach her everything she did not know about passion, intimacy, pleasure, and anything else her body and mind and heart desired to know. A true wedding night of first discoveries for her, and of delicious exploration for him.

The door was open. I could have turned the handle and come to you at any moment.

But he had not wanted her to be afraid, and for as long as he lived, he vowed never to tell her that the door had not been locked at all.

“If I open this door, you might try to lick me again.”

He groaned inwardly at the memory of her words, for nothing would have delighted him more than to taste her and tease her, to hear her sighs and moans of bliss as he elevated her to the secret realms of womanhood.

Even now, his body thrummed with the need to please her and to know her intimately as two people could. So much so that he had already decided to have a steady stream of ice sent up from the icehouse at Stapleton Court so he could cool his desire whenever she stirred it up into a maddening inferno.

“Are you well?” Harry asked, holding his stomach. “You have a redness in your cheeks. It is not a fever, is it? You might have a month of nothingness ahead of you, but I cannot afford to miss a single social occasion.”

Adam touched the back of his fingers to his cheeks. They were, indeed, rather hot. “It is merely fatigue, my good man. You know when you have not slept in days, and you feel all warm and uncomfortable—that is my ailment, nothing more.”

“I am beginning to feel that myself,” Harry replied, his eyes widening as he looked toward the front porch of Tillington House. “Ah, here she is. The terror that has taken you away from me.”

Adam chuckled. “I can think of no one less terrifying. She is like a fieldmouse.”

“I have never seen a fieldmouse as beautiful as that.” Harry pointed with his chin toward Nancy, who had just emerged from the house, looking angelic in a flowing dress of white muslin, the curve of her waist hinted at by a light blue ribbon beneath the bust.

An immaculate bust, in Adam’s humble opinion. Milky white and plump, pushed up in a pleasing manner.

“Do not forget me, Adam,” Harry said, though it sounded more like a warning.

“As if I could.”

“I do not know. I am beginning to worry that you have put yourself in far graver danger than you realize,” Harry insisted.

“In what way?”

Harry shook his head. “I cannot say for certain, but there is something in the way you look at her. I do not think I have ever seen you look at a lady like that, in all the years—and all the women—I have known you.” He paused. “It troubles me.”

“It should not. The look you are referring to is… surprise,” Adam explained, trying to convince himself too. “Every time I see her, I remember that she is my wife. You would look at a lady rather strangely if the same were true for you.”

It is because I have vowed not to have her that I look at her that way. It is like being presented with the juiciest peach you have ever seen, and then immediately being told you cannot, under any circumstances, eat it. You cannot even have a nibble.

Harry scratched his stubbled chin. “I suppose. Just… be cautious, that is all I shall say. It might seem exciting, but I know you, Adam, and the novelty will wear off soon enough. If you have involved yourself with her, she will be the only one with a broken heart when you decide you have tired of her.” He hesitated. “When the lady in question is of little concern—a passing fancy—that is to be expected, but she is your wife, as you said. It is a different kettle of fish.”

“As soon as she is settled at Stapleton Court, I will present the terms of our arrangement,” Adam said firmly. “There is no cause for worry. By this time next year, I imagine we shall be living separate lives quite happily. No harm done.”

Harry narrowed his eyes, clearly dubious. “Very well.” He clapped Adam on the back. “Enjoy your honeymoon. If you get too bored, send word, and I shall come and commiserate with you.”

“I will.”

Adam smiled as his friend went on his way, heading for the horse that waited impatiently on the side of the driveway, snatching up tufts of grass.

Yet, as he watched his wife say farewell to her family, her chin raised as she tried to be stoic through what was undoubtedly an agonizing goodbye, he sensed she was not someone who could easily bore him.

Then again, he had been wrong before.

* * *

Having chosen to ride alongside the carriage to allow Nancy some privacy to rest or weep or curse her bad fortune, Adam’s backside was rather numb by the time Stapleton Court came into view, just as the early evening had begun to bleed into the sunset.

The couple had stopped several times to feed and water the horses, but Nancy had not emerged from the carriage. Indeed, Adam was beginning to wonder if she might have snuck out during one of their brief stops, running back to her family before ever having to set foot inside her marital home.

He passed through the tall gates of his family seat.

What would I do? Would I have to go back and retrieve her? Or would I just let her be?

He had no answer, though he supposed it might be better for them both if she had slipped out of the other side of the carriage and gone back to her family.

“Have we arrived?” a small, sleepy voice drifted toward him from the half-open carriage window, letting him know that his wife had not, in fact, absconded.

Adam drew his horse level with the window. “We have.”

“Can we halt so I can see it from afar?”

Adam hesitated. “I do not see why not.”

He gave the instruction to the driver, who looked equally puzzled as he brought the two large draft horses to a standstill. Having brought no footmen with him, Adam climbed out of the saddle of his own thoroughbred and opened the door for Nancy.

“Go on without us,” he told the driver, who tipped his hat and urged the draft horses back to their plodding walk.

Rubbing her eyes, Nancy took Adam’s proffered hand and allowed him to help her down from the carriage, though she quickly withdrew her hand as her feet landed on solid ground. He noticed the way she crossed her arms over her chest as if she was cold, though the evening was balmy, and understood the warning well enough—keep away from me.

“Would you like a blanket?” he asked.

She frowned. “Whatever for?”

“You look cold.”

She shook her head shyly. “No, thank you. I am quite warm. I am just shaking off the weariness of the journey. I did not realize it was… so far.”

“It is not as far as your sister is from Tillington House,” he pointed out, though he did not know why. He supposed he was trying to make her feel better about being so far from her family.

She shrugged. “I suppose not.”

Her eyes fixed upon the grand manor in the near distance, illuminated by the bronzed light of sunset. Adam had to applaud the heavens for putting on such a gorgeous display, for even he had never seen Stapleton Court look so otherworldly in its beauty.

The hazy glow caught the sandstone, making it gleam almost golden, and the windows twinkled a warm welcome, while the four square turrets waved their flags like ladies waved handkerchiefs while bidding farewell to their loved ones.

Two of the flags were the red and white of England, while the other two bore the crests of his lineage: the black lion of Stapleton, and the three unicorn heads of Wilkinson—his mother’s coat of arms.

“My goodness,” Nancy whispered. “It is… vast.”

“Offensively large,” Adam agreed. “I assume, long ago in our history, it was filled with soldiers and nobility and servants aplenty. Now, even if every inhabitant were to stand in one room, that one room would seem too big.”

Nancy glanced at him. “Is that why you choose to reside in London?”

“The townhouse does not feel as empty,” he conceded. “I have often thought about selling the manor to a large family, or renting it at least, but my mother would not like it. She is not fond of company.”

A wave of panic washed over Nancy. “Does she know about me?”

“Not yet.”

Adam put on one of his most irreverent grins and, taking her by the arm, began to lead her up the long, winding driveway to the house.

As they walked, they were hit with the potent aromas of the immense gardens. At least four acres of manicured lawns and landscaped gardens of every kind—rose gardens, winter gardens, ornamental gardens, wildflower gardens, kitchen gardens. There was even a large pond in the center, traversed by a red and green bridge that was supposed to emulate an oriental garden, though Adam had never been to the Orient to confirm the authenticity.

Either way, it was one of his favorite parts of the garden, where he had spent many an afternoon watching the fish slowly swim through the water while dragonflies skimmed the surface and frogs cooled themselves. In the winter, when the pond froze over, it was perfect for ice skating, though it had been years since he had indulged in the pastime.

“And I… am the duchess of all of this?” Nancy gasped, breathing too quickly.

All of the color had drained from her already pale face, prompting Adam to hold her arm tighter, pulling her closer.

It was a mistake. The sweet scent of her hair hit him like a punch to the gut, his breath catching in his throat as he inhaled. He liked to think he was an expert when it came to perfumes, but hers… hers was unique—sugary and earthy and spicy, all at once.

“You are,” he choked out, wishing he could clog his nostrils.

Nancy nodded slowly, pulling away from him. “It is a beautiful… um… Goodness, manor does not seem like a large enough word. It is a castle, by any other name.” She swallowed loudly, pressing on toward the cloistered walkway that shrouded the entrance. “I am sure I shall grow accustomed to it.”

He frowned, remembering when he had said those exact words to her, after she had responded to him calling her “wife.” But as he followed her, he began to wonder if either of them would ever grow accustomed to this. He was not used to such stilted, awkward conversations, nor had he ever introduced anyone to his mother or his country residence before.

All at once, the enormity of what they were doing struck him, far harder than her perfume or the scent of the gardens or a donkey kick to the chest.

“I shall leave you with the housekeeper,” he said, rushing past her to reach the front door first. He opened it without ringing the bell. “She is a kindly woman. She will show you everything that the manor has to offer, and if you have any questions, I am certain she will be happy to answer them for you.”

Nancy halted. “You are not going to show me around the house?”

“I have business to attend to,” he lied, already halfway across the grand entrance hall, striding toward the first of many staircases that would take him to his private study in the western turret. His sanctuary. “Mrs. Holloway, there is a visitor!” he called as he made his way up the steps.

The housekeeper, Mrs. Holloway, bustled out of a nearby corridor with a startled expression on her weathered face. “Your Grace, what are you doing here? Not that you can’t be in your own residence whenever you please, but you weren’t expected! You’re supposed to be in London.”

“I am married, Mrs. Holloway. Quite the surprise, I know,” Adam replied, gesturing toward Nancy, who stood as still as a statue on the threshold of the manor. “Please, show my wife around the house. I have some correspondence that cannot wait. I am not to be disturbed until I am done, so please inform everyone not to bother me.”

With that, he took the rest of the stairs two at a time, running from the crashing wave of his sudden responsibilities as fast as his legs could carry him.