Whirlwind Wedding (17 page)

Bloody hell, he was proud of her.

When they reached his private study, he opened the door. A fire crackled in the grate, casting a soft glow over the room. Closing the door behind him, he leaned against it and watched her. She stood in the middle of the room, her hands clasped in front of her, looking more lovely than anyone he'd ever seen. Tenderness flooded him along with an overwhelming urge —no, a
need
—to kiss her. Before he could act on his impulse, however, she spoke.

"May I ask you something?"

"Of course."

A frown knitted her brow. "What happened to me at dinner . . . did that same thing happen to you?"

"I beg your pardon?"

"When you inherited your title and became the duke, did people
change
toward you? I'm the same person I was last week, last month, but everyone is treating me differently."

"Not unkindly, I trust."

"On the contrary, everyone seems quite
determined
to be my friend. Did that happen to you?"

"Yes, although before I was a duke, I was a marquess, so I was quite used to it already."

She studied him for a long moment, then shook her head sadly. "I'm so sorry. It must be very difficult for you, not knowing if someone likes
you
or your title."

He drew a deep breath. Would her words ever cease to amaze him? He walked across the floor, his footsteps silenced by the Axminster carpet, and stopped in front of her. She looked at him and his heart jumped. Tender warmth glowed from her beautiful eyes, sincere, honest, and unmistakable.

He simply had to touch her. Now.

Cupping her face between his hands, he brushed his lips across hers.

"Austin . . ." she breathed.

What was it about the sound of his name on her lips that moved him so?

He'd only meant to give her a brief kiss. He'd brought her to the study for a different reason altogether. But now, with her soft curves so enticingly close, and her voice sighing his name, he promptly forgot his reason.

Gathering her closer, he traced her full lower lip with the tip of his tongue.

She needed no further urging to part her lips and welcome him. He half whispered, half groaned her name and deepened their kiss.

He slanted his mouth over hers and his senses caught fire. The warmth of her body, the strawberry sweetness of her mouth, her delicate lilac scent, all surrounded him, blanketing him from head to toe with a fierce heat that quickly turned into a burning, raging need. When he finally forced himself to lift his head he was breathing hard and his heart rate had doubled.

Possibly tripled.

"My goodness," she panted clinging to his lapels. "You're quite good at that."

He pulled back slightly and took in her dazed expression with a swell of masculine satisfaction. "So are you."
Incredibly, indescribably good.

"My mother once told me that Papa's kisses made her bones melt. I had no idea what she meant at the time."

A smile quirked his lips. "And now?"

A peach blush suffused her cheeks. "I understand. Exactly. It means you can no longer feel your knees. I must say, it's a delightful sensation."

"Indeed it is." And it would soon be more delightful— when they were in his bed naked making love.

A dozen erotic images popped into his mind but he firmly pushed them aside. If he allowed his thoughts to dwell on
that,
she wouldn't make it out of the study with her virtue intact.

Reluctantly he released her and walked to his desk. "I want to give you something."

Her dimples flashed. "I thought you just did."

"Something else." He unlocked the bottom drawer, picked up what he wanted then returned to her side. "For you," he said handing her a small velvet box.

Her brows lifted in surprise. "What is this?"

"Open it and see."

She drew back the hinged lid and gasped. Nestled in a bed of snowy velvet sat an oval-cut topaz surrounded by diamonds. "It's a ring," she breathed staring wide-eyed at the glittering gem. "Good heavens, it's extraordinary."

Just like you.
The thought popped into his mind startling him, but he couldn't deny its truth. She was extraordinary—and in ways that had nothing to do with her physical beauty. In ways that confused him and left him unsettled.

Removing the gem from its velvet perch, he slid it on the third finger of her left hand. "It's part of a collection that's been in the family for generations. I chose it because the color reminded me of your eyes."
The
most beautiful eyes I've ever seen.

Staring at the ring, she slowly moved her hand and stared at the glimmering shafts the stone threw off in the firelight. Then she raised those eyes to his. Tears shimmered on her lashes and he feared she was going to cry. Instead she leaned forward and lightly kissed his cheek.

"Thank you, Austin. It's the most beautiful ring I've ever seen. I'll treasure it always."

His insides squeezed tightly together at the emotion in her voice. That now familiar warmth he always seemed to experience whenever she was near assailed him—a sensation he couldn't name other than to dub it the "Elizabeth feeling."

God. She possessed a sweetness, an innocence, he'd truly believed couldn't exist in a woman over the age of ten. She was kindhearted.

Generous and giving. He was none of that. His failures regarding William proved it.

He stared at her for a long moment, imagining her as a bride.
His
bride.

A disturbing thought hit him, and he frowned. She was going along with all his plans without question or complaint, and he'd never once considered that she might want the sort of lavish wedding women dreamed of. Shame filled him at his selfishness. "Are you all right, Austin?"

"It has just occurred to me that this informal, whirlwind wedding may not be exactly what you've always dreamed of."

A gentle smile touched her lips. "All my wedding dreams have always revolved around the man I'd someday marry, not the pomp and circumstance of an elaborate ceremony. Two weeks after my parents met outside the millinery shop, they eloped and were married by a ship's captain at sea. It doesn't matter
how
you marry. What matters is
whom
you marry."

Not quite sure how to respond he gathered her into his arms and buried his face in her fragrant hair, savoring her warmth for a moment. Then, after pressing a quick kiss on her forehead he stepped away from her. "We should rejoin the others."

While they walked slowly back to the drawing room together, she said, "I suppose you realize that I'm quite unnerved about becoming a duchess."

"I'm afraid it's unavoidable given our intention to marry."

She sighed. "Things would have been much better, much simpler, if you'd just been a gardener. Or perhaps a merchant."

He halted and stared at her. "I beg your pardon?"

"Oh, I meant no offense. It's just that our lives would be much less . . .

complicated if you did not possess such a lofty title."

"You'd prefer to marry a merchant? Or a gardener?"

"No. I'd prefer to marry you. You'd just be
simpler
to marry if you were a gardener."

For the first time it really hit him that perhaps she
would
be happier married to a merchant. While she was respectful of his title, she was clearly unimpressed by it. Yet the mere thought of her married to someone else, in another man's arms, pumped hot jealousy through him.

Forcing a lightness he didn't feel into his voice, he asked "And if I were a merchant? You'd still marry me?"

Laying her palm against his cheek, she regarded him through serious eyes. "Yes, Austin. I'd still marry you."

Confusion assailed him. He'd half expected a teasing answer from her, but she'd surprised him—as she often did. Damn it, how did she consistently manage to throw him off center?

"Although your mother, Caroline, and Aunt Joanna have pledged to help me, I'm very unclear about exactly what a duchess does."

Gathering himself, he offered her a smile. "It's a very simple job. All she has to do is keep her duke happy."

She laughed. "How nice. For you. And how does she go about keeping her duke happy?"

His gaze wandered slowly down her long, lush body. "You won't have any trouble, I promise you." He intended to show her
exactly
how to keep her duke happy on their wedding night.

He wondered how the hell he would manage to wait that long.

While Elizabeth spent the next day ensconced or, he imagined
trapped
in the sunny library with his mother, Caroline, Lady Penbroke, and the seamstresses, Austin labored over the accounts for his Surrey estate.

By late afternoon, the rows of numbers swam before his tired eyes, and when he heard the knock on his study door, he gratefully surrendered his quill.

"Come in."

Miles entered, closing the door behind him. "Well, I must say, Austin, you are full of surprises."

He pretended confusion. "Indeed? And here I thought I was rather dull and predictable."

"Anything but, old boy. First you send me off to London to gather information about Miss Matthews. Then you summon me back here to attend your
wedding
to the woman." Miles strolled over to the desk and made a great show of studying Austin. "Hmmm. You appear quite fit, no outward signs of insanity such as jumping uncontrollably about or screaming obscenities. Therefore I can only assume this whirlwind wedding indicates you've either fallen madly, passionately in love . .." His voice trailed off and he raised his brows.

Unwelcome heat crept up Austin's neck. "The carriage ride clearly addled your brain."

"Or," Miles continued as if he hadn't spoken, "you ruined the girl." He paused then nodded. "I see. Couldn't keep your hands off her, eh?"

"She saved my life."

Miles stilled. "Excuse me?"

Austin brought him up to date on the events of the past several days.

When he finished Miles shook his head.

"Good God Austin. You're lucky to be in one piece." Reaching across the desk, Miles clasped his shoulder. "We all owe Miss Matthews a debt of gratitude."

"
I
certainly do."

A devilish gleam sparkled in Miles's eyes. "I'll wager you're thankful it wasn't a Digby daughter who found you injured."

A shudder passed through him. "God yes."

"Which makes me wonder . . . how
did
Miss Matthews manage to find you?"

Before Austin could think up a plausible explanation for something that
had
no plausible explanation, Miles held out his hands. "Never mind.

Clearly you'd planned an assignation. I do not need the details."

"Er, good." He cleared his throat. "Now tell me, what did you find out about Miss Matthews?"

Miles settled himself in the comfortable wing chair next to Austin's desk.

Extracting a small leather notebook from his pocket, he consulted his notes.

"My inquiries confirmed that she arrived in London on January third of this year aboard
The Starseeker.
As luck would have it,
The Starseeker
was in port for repairs and I spoke to her captain, Harold Beacham.

"According to Captain Beacham, Miss Matthews was a delightful passenger. She never complained even when they encountered rough seas.

Along with her companion, she often joined him on deck in the evenings to view the stars. She was very knowledgeable about astronomy, and he enjoyed her company."

He shot Austin a wink. "I believe he entertained some
romantic
notions toward your fiancée."

Austin's jaw tightened but he ignored the teasing jab. "Did he know if this was her first trip to England?"

"She told him it was. He said that while she looked forward to arriving in England there was a definite sadness about her. He assumed it was because she missed her home, but she never spoke of it." He flipped several pages in his notebook. "I also tracked down Mrs. Loretta Thomkins, the traveling companion."

Austin sat up straighter. "What did she say?"

Miles looked toward the ceiling. "What
didn't
she say? Hang it, the woman never stopped chattering from the moment she clapped her eyes on me." He tugged on his earlobes. "Good thing these are attached or she would have talked them off. I know more about that woman than anyone would ever care to know."

"And I'm certain you'll only share the pertinent details with me."

A deflated expression crossed Miles's face. "As you wish, but damned if I like it that
I'm
the only one who has to know her life history." Heaving a dramatic sigh, he consulted his book. "According to Mrs. Thomkins, Miss Matthews—whom she referred to as 'that dear, sweet child'—moved in with distant relations on her father's side named Longren after her father's death."

"Was she without funds?"

"Not destitute, but hardly wealthy. She was heartbroken after her father's sudden death. Miss Matthews told Mrs. Thomkins she hated living alone, so she sold the small house she'd shared with her father and moved in with her relatives. Apparently everything went along swimmingly until about nine months ago. That's when Miss Matthews packed her things and left."

"What happened?"

"Mrs. Thomkins didn't know for certain, but she suspected a falling-out with the relatives as Miss Matthews never spoke of them and she changed the subject whenever Mrs. Thomkins brought them up. Whatever the reason, it greatly saddened Miss Matthews and made her determined and in Mrs. Thomkin's opinion,
desperate
to leave America."

"Desperate?"

"Desperate to leave with no intention of returning." Miles shrugged.

"Mrs. Thomkins was nothing if not dramatic. She also said that 'that dear, sweet child' was like a lost soul for the first few weeks of their voyage and that her heart went out to her." He snapped his notebook shut and slipped it into his waistcoat pocket. "That was as far as I'd proceeded with my inquiries before you summoned me back here."