Chapter 19

“You still up for that boxing match?” Philip asked as he strode into Aaron’s front room.

Aaron, clearly startled to have a visitor so early in the morning, least of all Philip, lowered his newspaper and looked at Philip over the very edge.

“You did offer to be my sparring partner, didn’t you?”

“I did,” Aaron said slowly, clearly looking around Philip for a sign of how he got into the house.

“Your butler let me in,” Philip explained with a wave of his hand. Aaron nodded then folded up the paper.

“Very well, follow me.”

Philip was glad not to have to explain anymore just yet.

As soon as he could, he escaped his bedchamber and his house that morning. He’d gone for a ride first thing, but still unable to go home again, he found himself at Aaron’s door, quite determined to distract himself.

A chance to forget about Grace for a little while would be a fine thing indeed.

A few minutes later, both Philip and Aaron were in a sporting room at the back of Aaron’s townhouse. There were racks across the walls of pistols, muskets, and bayonets from Aaron’s days as a soldier, yet there were other things too. Framed were newspaper clippings bearing the stories of war, successful battle, and even illegal boxing matches.

“Ready?” Aaron said. He’d shed his cravat and waistcoat, standing before Philip in his trousers and a loose shirt.

“I’m ready.” Philip nodded, holding up his hands.

The first strike came fast.

Aaron was indeed a skilled fighter, much quicker an opponent than Philip had ever fought before. He had to move faster, be light on his feet, darting out of the way of each encroaching blow and missing the latter one by a hair’s breadth.

“You’re too slow,” Aaron said, stepping back for just a minute. “Are the men you fight in those illegal boxing bouts of yours too large and sluggish on their feet?”

“Usually. Their might comes in their strength, not their speed.”

“Then stand on the balls of your feet and be ready to move. Let’s go again.” Aaron moved forward. The following blows were a little easier to dodge this time as Philip did as he was instructed and stayed on the balls of his feet.

When he came close to catching Aaron in the cheek with a strike, he found his first caught in Aaron’s palm. Aaron absorbed the strength behind the hit then thrust Philip back again.

“Well, it can’t have been a good wedding night then,” Aaron said, stepping away to grab a towel and wipe his head.

“What?” Philip spluttered, reaching for his own towel.

“You’re fighting like a man full of need. Did you not consummate the marriage?”

“Aaron!” Philip threw down the towel over the racking nearby, startled that Aaron of all people would ask this question. Aaron just shrugged, as if it was a natural thing to ask. “This is my wife we’re talking about. She’s not just another lady anymore. She’s not my sister’s embarrassing friend. She is my wife.”

“Embarrassing friend? A curious description,” Aaron mused on these words. “Let’s go again.”

Philip was still debating what his friend meant by this when the next blows came. Absorbed in the fight, he could only parry, blocking some of Aaron’s hits and coming very close to landing a few of his own though he never quite caught Aaron. He was too much the skilled soldier.

“I was just wondering,” Aaron said curiously as they rocked back and forth on their toes, sizing each other up in a natural pause.

“What?”

“If you had forgotten she was your wife. You’re here, Philip. The day after your wedding, you’re here and not there.”

Sudden vehement anger overtook Philip, and he tried to lash out again, but his fury made his technique sloppy. Aaron blocked the blow all too easily.

“Get your head in the game,” Aaron barked, walking around him. “Or are you not training up for a proper fight?”

Philip didn’t answer. He focused instead on the match for a few hits before Aaron’s previous question wormed his way into his mind, and he had to say something.

“We did our duty as a married couple,” he said, dodging another one of Aaron’s hits. “We hardly need to spend more time together than that.”

Abruptly, Aaron lowered his hands. Rather than Philip taking advantage of the relaxed stance, he stopped too.

“What’s wrong?” Philip asked. “We’re not done, are we?”

“One minute.” Aaron moved to the side of the room and grabbed the towel again. He sat down on a bench, eyeing Philip carefully. Distracted, Philip reached for his own towel and wiped his brow.

“What is it now?”

“Where have you got this idea that you and your wife are best when you’re far apart from each other? Surely not your father.”

Stunned at the intimacy of the question, Philip turned to look at his friend. The serious look told him all. Aaron thought he was perfectly entitled to ask this question.

“Aaron —”

“You and I have told each other plenty of secrets in our time,” Aaron said stoically in a low tone. “You know most of mine.”

Philip sighed, knowing it was the case. There was darkness in Aaron’s past, demons that had chased him from the battlefield. He also knew that it was Aaron’s way of coping not to talk about what had happened at all, but they had spoken a little of it at some point.

Slowly, Philip moved to the bench. He sat down too though at some distance from Aaron.

“You know about my father,” Philip said in a low tone, preferring to stare into the distance across the room at the muskets on the far wall rather than at Aaron at all.

“His gambling, I know. How bad was it?”

“More so than you know.” Philip wasn’t talking about money. Things hadn’t been easy, but he was coping. Just the day before the wedding, he’d heard great news of another of his investments in foreign trade doing surprisingly well. He was now confident of reclaiming the fortune the dukedom needed.

“What is it I don’t know?” Aaron asked calmly.

“He wasn’t just a gambler though that was traumatic enough for my mother. His infidelities also plagued her. His constant furies, his coldness toward her.” Philip muttered curse words under his breath. “Even though he is long gone, it still affects her.”

Philip sighed, thinking of how his mother wouldn’t come up to London particularly often, of how large crowds still made her uneasy, and how often she cried over losing his father.

“She loved him, badly,” Philip said coldly. “And he did nothing but return her love with darkness.”

At last, Philip looked at Aaron, watching his friend take in this news thoughtfully.

“I see,” Aaron said eventually.

“I will not have that power over anyone. I won’t let it happen,” Philip said with sudden urgency. “Least of all to Grace.”

Aaron’s eyes shot toward him.

“She’s stronger than she looks, Philip.”

“I have no doubt of her strength.” Philip shook his head. “It’s her brightness and freedom I fear strangling.” He remembered the first night he ever met her and the way she clumsily fell into the water then climbed out again, defying his orders.

Secretly, he’d admired her so much for that, despite how scandalous it was.

“I already tell her what to do. That’s not good.”

“I bet she doesn’t listen to you,” Aaron said knowingly.

Philip smiled a little, for it was the case. So far, Grace had only listened to his orders in the bedchamber the night before.

“It would simply be unfair to her to let the past repeat itself.” Philip stood, feeling he was done with this conversation. “I won’t let it happen.”

“Very well.” Aaron nodded, clearly intending not to push him anymore. “As for your boxing, keep practicing with your weight forward. When you tip too far back, it will be easy for an opponent to take you down.”

“Thank you for the advice.” Philip smiled, glad his friend was now moving onto talking of other matters. “I should go.”

“You going home?”

“Maybe.” Yet Philip had no intention of going home. He would have lunch at his club and while away the time elsewhere before he had to return to the house. “Will you be at the assembly tonight?”

Aaron winced.

“You hardly ever come,” Philip said with a sigh. “I’d be glad of your company there.”

“You have your wife’s company for such events now,” Aaron observed thoughtfully.

Philip looked at his friend, feeling that Aaron was trying to walk him to some conclusion, but Aaron said nothing more on the subject. He threw his towel to the side and stood.

“I’ll happily be your sparring partner again, though. Just come back when you need another hit in the face.”

* * *

Philip adjusted his cravat one last time. His valet had finished brushing down the back of his suit, so there wasn’t a hair or fleck of dust in sight. In the low evening light, Philip turned back and forth, examining every inch of the fine suit in the mirror.

Everything was in place. He was the regal and poised duke again, a far cry from the boxing match earlier today and how he had spent the night.

In the reflection, his eyes caught sight of the bed behind him. His gaze tarried there as he thought of what he and Grace had shared. He thought of the heat, the passion, the pleasure, the thrill of the way she had clung to him, and the feeling of just sleeping beside her.

He’d given into a weakness halfway through the night, nuzzling his head into her neck and tangling their limbs together. She had sighed pleasurably in her sleep, tipping her head back toward him. It was all he could do to hold himself back from taking her again at that moment.

“All set, Your Grace,” the valet said.

“Thank you, Thomas.” Philip came back to himself, snatching his gaze away from the bed. He brushed a hand over his wild hair that was refusing even more than usual to stay flat then he turned and left the room.

He crossed the landing and walked down the stairs, strange thoughts entering his mind as he went.

He realized that he had never shown Grace to her new chamber, but as he hadn’t seen her since his return to the house, he could only presume that Mrs. Williamson had already done so. He hadn’t introduced Grace to her new staff either, so they must have all handled it alone.

I haven’t been a proper husband or duke today, have I?

The thought irritated him more than before.

As he reached the hallway, he found the butler waiting for him.

“The carriage is ready, Your Grace,” the butler said kindly.

“Thank you. We won’t be long now. Why don’t you retire for dinner?”

“Thank you, Your Grace.” The butler bowed and left, disappearing through the nearest door that led to the servants’ stairwell.

Philip peered out of the open door to see that the carriage was indeed on the gravel drive, awaiting them. The driver and footman were all in place with the door of the carriage even open, waiting for him and Grace to climb inside.

Philip reached for the waistcoat he kept in his pocket and checked the time. It was bang on seven o’clock. It was exactly the time they needed to leave.

He turned and looked back at the staircase, but there was no sign of Grace at all.

“Damn,” Philip muttered under his breath as he started to pace. “I should have added a rule about her being punctual for events.”

He turned to face the hall mirror, somewhat struggling to stand still at all. He adjusted his cravat a little, making it just that inch more perfect. Then he checked his pocket watch again. It was now two minutes past.

We’re late.

He paced once more. He itched, scratching his chin and running his hand through his hair, now realizing that he should have kept the butler here, so he could go and find Mrs. Williamson and ask her to check on what was keeping Grace.

Wait… we are husband and wife now. I can simply go to her chamber and find out for myself what is taking her so long.

He waited another minute, but when the hands of his pocket watch showed four minutes past, he lost all patience. He turned sharply back toward the staircase and marched toward it.

His first footstep on the bottom step, however, was matched by another step, much higher. He froze, his body feeling it turned to an icicle as he looked up at the bearer of that step.

It was Grace. She was here at last.

Her eyes found his as she took hold of the banister and walked down the stairs though his gaze could not possibly stay on her face, for he was taking in every inch of her.

Her honey hair was curled beautifully, fastened into an updo high at the back of her head, so it cascaded down and emphasized the curve of her neck. A thick ribbon necklace hid the place where he had left a kissing mark upon her the night before.

The deep burgundy material was a shock indeed. The fashion for ladies of the ton may have been pastel, but Philip didn’t care in that moment. The deep burgundy suited Grace perfectly, contrasting the tanned hue of her skin and her honey hair.

What had Philip’s mouth turning completely dry though was the cut of the dress. Unlike any of the frilly or oversized gowns he had often seen her wear, this one was completely fitted.

It hugged her breasts perfectly, the deep ‘v’ neckline revealing her round and perfect cleavage. The empire line of her gown stretched a bit deep down her ribcage, emphasizing how slim her waist was compared to the voluptuous curve of her hips. The burgundy silk skimmed those hips, taunting him with what was hidden beneath.

She looked down as she walked, picking up her skirt a little to reveal not only her burgundy shoes and a flash of ankle but even the curve of her calf.

A rumbling started in Philip’s chest, a rumbling he was sure would not be satisfied until he took Grace in that dress.

“That’s quite a look,” Grace whispered as she stopped in front of him, just two steps up so she was at his head height.

He swallowed, struggling to phrase any words at all.

“That’s what you’re wearing tonight?”