The Duke's Accidental Wife (Dukes of War Book 7) (14 page)

“Could you?” Aunt Havens’ smile brightened.

Kate gazed down at the dahlia and thought about her future.

Ravenwood was wonderful. He was smart. Romantic. She didn’t know how he felt, what he might think or say. He didn’t give his approbation lightly, which increased its value all the more.

She cared about his opinion. Everyone else liked her, but she wasn’t certain they necessarily
respected
her—or her ideas. His respect would mean more than anyone else’s. His love would mean the world.

“He gave me this dahlia.” She held it out for her aunt to see. “He says it reminds him of me.”

“Because you’re beautiful,” Aunt Havens guessed.

“Because I’m different.” Kate gazed at the exotic flower as she remembered the warmth in his eyes.

Debutantes were expected to adhere to the same rules, to follow the same fashions, to mimic each other in comportment and desires.

She had been complimented on her French dresses and perfect ringlets her entire life, but no one had ever told her what they most appreciated about her was that she was
different
from the others. Until today.

If she’d had any skill at all with watercolor, she would paint this beautiful flower to remember the moment forever.

The day she’d discovered herself falling wholly and irreversibly in love.

She might be like a dahlia, but he was like his secret garden. Tall and imposing, with great stone walls and a locked iron gate to keep others out. Wild, untamed beauty within.

A smile that felt like sunshine upon her soul.

They could
not
get an annulment. She would stay married to him no matter what it took. Even if that meant someday having his child. Or trying to.

She brought the dahlia to her chest and closed her eyes. Terror gripped her.

Ravenwood was not an unreasonable man. He’d invited her into his garden. Surely he would understand her need to be intimate with him for the first few times without the specter of childbirth casting its shadow over the marriage bed.

He was a duke. He had resources beyond her imagination. He would not let anything happen to her—or their baby. She opened her eyes and nodded firmly.

Next year would be soon enough to think about children.

She crossed the room to the bell pull in order to ring for a vase. Her mind was already planning where to place the dahlia so that she would see it every morning when she woke and every night before falling asleep.

Even when Ravenwood was too busy to spend time with her, she would be able to look at the dahlia and remember how it had felt to kiss him in his garden.

When she turned back around, Aunt Havens was on her knees, peering beneath the chairs and side tables.

Kate strode forward, frowning. “Did you lose something, Aunt?”

“I’m afraid so.” Aunt Havens let out a deep sigh of frustration. “I can’t find that dog anywhere!”

Kate’s smile wobbled. The blasted dog again. This was the second time in as many weeks.

There had to be something Kate could do. Playing along wasn’t working. Nor did explaining the dog had long since died. What Aunt Havens might need was a new dog. A real one.

And perhaps what Kate needed…was Ravenwood.

Chapter Fifteen

After spending a delightful afternoon with Katherine in the garden, the last thing Ravenwood wanted to do was set off for Parliament and spend the next eight hours shuttered inside the Palace of Westminster with the House of Lords.

But he was a duke who knew his duty, so as much as he might have preferred to stay home and see what the evening might bring, his country needed him. The ridiculous Coinage Committee needed him.

As much as he hated being cooped up with so many people, so many voices, he often feared the whole system would fall apart if he were not present to herd the lordlings back into line every time they strayed off course and out of hand.

Tonight, however, instead of suffering through the usual anxiety of what to say and how to say it, his mind kept slipping back to his garden. The fear of rejection, the relief of acceptance, the joy that had filled them both so vividly that she’d thrown herself into his arms and—

“Wouldn’t you say, Ravenwood?”

“Er…” Ravenwood blinked at dozens of curious faces. Heat climbed up his neck at the unexpected attention. “I would need to…consult some figures.”

“You and your figures, Ravenwood!”

The men turned from him to begin arguing amongst themselves again.

He rubbed his face and forced himself to pay attention. Just a little while longer. These meetings rarely went later than one or two in the morning. Katherine was infamous for going out every evening. She would still be awake when he got home.

Except she wasn’t.

No light shone beneath the crack of their adjoining door. She was in bed, asleep.

Come to think of it, she hadn’t gone out a single time since becoming his wife. No theatres, no dinner parties, not even a stroll in St. James Square. He frowned.

Was she unhappy? Was it his fault?

Pensive, he maintained his habitual silence as his valet removed his boots and dress clothes and prepared his bed.

Until that afternoon, he had never explicitly given Katherine permission to do as she pleased, in or out of Ravenwood House. In all honesty, it had never occurred to him that explicit permission would be necessary. She was his duchess. A duchess could do as she liked.

More to the point: she was
Katherine
. Katherine always did as she pleased.

Or did she?

He sat on the edge of his bed and cast a long, speculative gaze at the closed door standing between them.

This union had not been in either of their plans. However, in Ravenwood’s case, he had always
wanted
to get married. To have a wife, children, a family. To find love.

On their wedding night, Katherine had made it perfectly clear that she did not share those sentiments. She had not longed for a husband, least of all Ravenwood. And she certainly wasn’t delighted to bear his children. She wasn’t willing to entertain the idea at all.

Which left them with what? He leaned back onto his bed and stared up at the tester.

The one thing
he
wasn’t willing to risk was a chance at love. Their wedding night had proven that she felt physical desire for him. This afternoon in the garden had proven that they could connect at a deeper level.

She might not have chosen him at first—but if he gave her time and space, there was still a chance that she might.

He didn’t want her to simply accept his presence in her bedchamber. He wanted her to
want
him. All of him. His mind, his body, his heart. He wanted her to want to create a family together just as badly as he did. He wanted them to
be
a family. Partners in life and love.

He also wasn’t a saint…or a fool. It was possible that their marriage might become the sort of union he’d always yearned for—and it was just as possible that it would not.

He rolled on his side to face away from the adjoining door.

For the next several weeks, he would be too busy with the House of Lords to do much courting, even in his own home. He could afford to give Katherine a month to adjust to her new role, but he would not pine for his wife from no more than a few feet away. The dukedom required an heir.

If she was not ready to come to him by the time the Season ended, he would go to her.

They would either become a family…or end their marriage for good.

Chapter Sixteen

Kate awoke exhausted, due to a fitful night.

Her pillows were the most comfortable she’d ever experienced, her mattress and blankets luxurious, but all she could think about was Ravenwood. Once again, he hadn’t come to her bedchamber.

He was either too busy with the House of Lords…or too uninterested. She tried not to think about that possibility. Until Parliament adjourned, the best thing she could do to stay sane was to keep herself occupied.

She had the Society of Creative and Performing Arts to plan. An aunt to look after.

A husband to yearn for.

She refreshed the water for the vase on her windowsill and bent her head to the dahlia. It smelled like sunshine and secret gardens. Its golden petals made her long to relive every one of his kisses.

To bolster her spirits, she forced her mind away from her absent husband and onto planning her final event of the Season. She was excited to pick a date and a venue and work on creating an opening night grander than any other theatre had ever managed. Ravenwood had promised to attend. It had to be perfect.

She hurried with her morning ablution, intending to pause for nothing more than a quick bite of toasted bread before being on her way. If she dallied any longer, Aunt Havens might decide to accompany her.

While Kate loved her great-aunt more dearly than anyone else in the world, Aunt Havens was more of a distraction than help. Kate needed to use every ounce of charisma she possessed to convince the caliber of performers she had in mind to put on a free show…and then to convince the
ton
to respond the way she had in mind.

Debutantes could sing in musicales, but not in operas—and why not? At least they should be able to
speak
to one another. A lady was expected to be competent in watercolor and embroidery, but to leave set painting and costume design to the vulgar masses. Nonsense! Singers were singers and artists were artists.

The Society for Creative and Performing Arts was a wonderful opportunity for the
beau monde
to explore their interests and passions with the people who had the most experience with them.

And then they could open their pocketbooks to enable emerging artists to live their dreams.

Kate dashed into the breakfast room and drew up short when she realized the table was currently occupied.

Not by Aunt Havens.

Ravenwood
.

Just the sight of him brought back the scent of flowers and fresh grass, the sun on her face, the feel of his arm nestled about her to hold her close.

And their kiss.

“Good morning.” He rose to his feet and bowed.

She curtsied and slid into the chair opposite him, her earlier haste forgotten.

“You’re up early.” His words were casual, but his green eyes drank her in as if he’d been prepared to wait for her all morning.

Her stomach flipped. She hadn’t stopped thinking of him for a single moment. “I’m to make progress on my project today. Or at least, I had been. If you’re home today, we could…”

He was already shaking his head. “I’ve meetings all day, I’m afraid. Go ahead and do as you please. I won’t have much free time until Parliament ends.”

Until Parliament ends. She nodded dully. That was weeks away.

“Tell me about your project,” he said. “It sounds…fun. How will you begin?”

Her mouth quirked as she realized that no part of planning, executing, or attending an intricate, crowded event would sound like fun to Ravenwood.

She was lucky he would be present at all. He would no doubt have preferred to spend the entirety of the night locked in his garden, had she not begged him to lend his support by being the first to offer patronage. She smiled at him.