Whirlwind Wedding (19 page)

She breathed deeply again and sighed. "When will we arrive in London?"

"We'll be home in less than half an hour. In fact, as much as I'm enjoying lying here, we'd best sit up and repair ourselves before we arrive."

She sat up and shrugged her arms back into her spencer. "Where is your London home?"

"Our
London home is on Park Lane, the same street as your aunt's Town residence. We're right next to Hyde Park in a section of London called Mayfair. We're also very close to Bond Street, so you may shop all you wish."

"Oh. Shopping. I cannot wait."

Clearly her unenthusiastic response gave her away. "You don't care for the shops?" he asked, his surprise evident.

"In truth, no. I view gadding about to dozens of shops, looking at items without a specific need to purchase them, as a total waste of time.

However, if it is something that duchesses must do, I shall endeavor to force myself."

"Surely there will be baubles and personal items you'll wish to buy. After all, you need to do something with your allowance."

"Allowance?"

"Yes. It's an English word meaning 'a regular, periodic sum of money'

You'll receive a quarterly allowance that you may spend as you wish."

"How much of an allowance?" she asked wondering what she would need to buy that he did not already own. He named a figure and her jaw dropped. "You're not serious." He couldn't possibly mean to give her that much money.

Even in the dim light, she saw his expression harden. "What's wrong? Is it not enough?"

She blinked at him, astounded. "Not enough! Good heavens, Austin. I assumed you were far from poverty stricken, but I had no idea you could afford to give me that much money every
ten years,
let alone every quarter."

Reaching out, she touched his sleeve. "I appreciate the offer, but it's truly not necessary. I already have everything I need."

Now it was Austin's turn to gape. She didn't know he could
afford
it? Had she really just stated it wasn't necessary for him to give her an allowance?

She already had everything she needed? He thought of the many shallow, greedy, scheming, conniving women in the
ton
and tried to imagine even one of them saying the words Elizabeth had just said. He shook his head.

Good God. Could this wife of his truly be
real!

He continued to stare at her, to study her eyes, and his answer was clear.

Yes. Yes, this woman—
his wife
—was absolutely real. She was everything good kind and unselfish. He hadn't even been looking, but he'd somehow found a treasure.
And I thought her reaction to the amount of the allowance was
based on greed.
He shook his head at his own folly.

Her soft voice broke into his reverie. "I've upset you. I'm sorry."

"I'm not upset, Elizabeth. I'm . . . amazed."

"You are? Why?"

He brought her hand to his lips. "Because
you
are amazing." Just as he kissed the center of her palm, the coach came to a stop, marking their arrival. "To be continued" he promised in a husky drawl that brought a blush to her cheeks.

They alighted from the coach and he escorted her through the elaborate wrought-iron gate. Candles glowed from every window of the elegant brick town house, casting the house with warm, inviting, muted light. As they approached the huge double doors were thrown open in welcome.

"Welcome home, your grace," the butler intoned escorting them into the marble-tiled vestibule.

"Thank you, Carters. This is your new mistress, her grace, the Duchess of Bradford."

The butler bowed deeply. "The staff extends our heartfelt felicitations on your nuptials, your grace," he said to Elizabeth, his dour face sober.

"Thank you, Carters," she said with a smile.

Austin saw her gaze move beyond Carters to the group of servants standing in a line, waiting to greet them. Unmistakable pride bubbled up in his chest when she stepped forward and smiled at the group. One by one Carters introduced the staff to Elizabeth, and one by one each servant was charmed by their new mistress who repeated their names and favored each of them with a friendly, dimpling grin. What his wife lacked in polished sophistication, she more than made up for with warmth and natural charm.

"It's late, Carters. I suggest you and the staff retire," Austin instructed once the introductions were completed. "I'll escort the duchess to her rooms."

"Of course, your grace." Carters bowed again. He and the others filed out, leaving Austin alone in the huge foyer with his bride.

"Carters is rather intimidating," she whispered. "Does he ever smile?"

"Never, at least not that I can recall."

"Where on earth do you find such terribly
serious
people?"

Unable to keep from touching her, he tweaked one of her auburn curls.

"Carters' family has been in service to the Duke of Bradford for three generations. He was
born
serious."

Tucking her hand beneath his arm, he led her up the curving staircase.

Her head bobbed from left to right, taking in her new home.

"Goodness. This is fabulous. As is Bradford Hall. Are all your homes this magnificent? Don't you own anything, well . . .
smaller?"

He thought for a moment. "There's a modest cottage in Bath."

"How modest?"

"About twenty rooms, give or take a few."

She laughed. "Twenty rooms is hardly modest."

"I fear it's the best I can do. If you'd like, you can buy a hut or hovel with your allowance." He shot her a teasing wink. "Something with only ten rooms." Pausing, he opened a door. "Here we are."

She stepped over the threshold and gasped. The bedchamber was decorated entirely in ivory and gold from the cream velvet drapes to the sumptuous Persian carpet beneath their feet. Several low, burning lamps bathed the entire room with a soft glow, and a cozy fire danced in the marble hearth.

"What a beautiful room," she said clearly delighted. She ran her fingers lightly over the gold brocade settee and matching wing chairs. Throwing her arms out, she twirled around several times, her skirts billowing behind her. "What's in there?" she asked pointing to a door on the far wall.

"A bathing chamber that adjoins my suite. It's part of the recently completed renovations I've done and is quite innovative. Your maid is drawing you a bath now. I'll await you in my suite." He touched her cheek, then left, closing the door behind him.

Elizabeth opened the door to the bathing room and was greeted by a shy young girl.

"Good evening, your grace. My name is Katie. I'm your abigail."

Thank goodness there wasn't anyone else in the room, or Elizabeth would have craned her neck around looking about for "your grace," as she'd nearly done in the foyer when Carters had greeted her. The title was certainly going to take some getting used to.

Katie helped her undress and assisted her into the tub, which to Elizabeth's amazement was not only sunken into the floor, but easily large enough for two, possibly three people. Warm, lilac-scented water washed over her, and a blissful sigh escaped her. When she emerged fifteen minutes later, her skin tingled with pleasure.

"I've laid out your lovely peignoir, your grace," Katie said.

"Oh, thank you. It's a gift from my aunt. I cannot wait to see it."

" 'Tis unbelievably beautiful."

Elizabeth decided that
unbelievable
was certainly an apt word. Oh, the garment was beautiful enough, a diaphanous creation in the palest shade of blue, but it clung to her every curve in a way that could only be described as indecent.

"Gracious! What on earth was Aunt Joanna thinking?" she exclaimed dismayed by the expanse of flesh the deeply plunging neckline left bare.

The material barely covered her nipples. The back of the gown was no better, the scoop there was so low her entire back was bare to her hips. "I cannot possibly wear this."

"You look stunning, your grace," Katie assured her.

"Perhaps the robe will help," Elizabeth muttered. But it didn't help at all.

The matching robe was nothing more than long sleeves with a back made of yards of material that hung to the floor. It was edged with cream-colored lace that only served to accentuate rather than hide her exposed flesh.

"I've never
seen
a robe like this," Elizabeth gasped trying in vain to pull the two sides together in order to cover herself. It was hopeless. "What on earth am I going to do? And more important, what will my husband say?"

"Somehow, I believe his grace will be pleased" Katie said.

His grace was indeed pleased when he opened the door to his suite in answer to a quiet knock. In fact, he felt as if his breath had been knocked from his body.

Before him stood a vision in ice blue silk. An auburn-haired vision whose creamy skin glowed beneath a tantalizing gown that left her just barely covered. His gaze strolled down from her flushed face, taking in the daring décolletage of her gown and the provocative way it clung to all her curves.

His groin instantly tightened.

"You look exquisite," he said softly, bringing her hand to his lips.

She cleared her throat. "I feel rather . . .
bare.
I cannot fathom what my aunt was thinking when she gave me such an ensemble."

Austin forced himself not to laugh and led her into his spacious bedchamber. He knew exactly what Lady Penbroke had been thinking and he sent her a mental note of thanks.

"Exquisite," he assured her again.

"Then the duke is pleased?"

"The duke is
very
pleased."

"Then I suppose I'm doing my job as duchess."

"See there? I told you it was simple." He indicated a small, beautifully set table near the fireplace. "Are you hungry?"

"No."

"Thirsty?"

"No."

"Nervous?"

"N—" A rueful smile curved her lips. "Yes. But I was trying so hard not to show it."

"I'm afraid those expressive eyes of yours give you away—as well as the crimson blush staining your cheeks and the fact your fingers are twisted into knots."

Her gaze dropped to her hands and she disentangled her fingers.

"Do you know what is going to happen between us, Elizabeth?" he asked running a single fingertip down her soft cheek.

Her gaze lifted back up to meet his. "Oh, yes," she said surprising him with her matter-of-fact tone. "I'm well acquainted with the studies of animal husbandry and human anatomy."

"I . . . see." Stepping closer to her, he gently laid his hands on her shoulders. "Well, if it makes you feel any better, I'm nervous, too."

Her eyes widened. "Do you mean to say you've never done this either?"

He choked back his laughter. "No, that is not what I meant."

"My apprehension springs from a fear of experiencing the unknown. As that is not the case for you, then why are you nervous?"

Because I want this night to be perfect for you. In every way. I hadn't dreamed it
would be so vital that you be pleased.
Plus he was damned uncertain about seducing an innocent. He'd always avoided virgins like a bad rash, yet now he stood faced with the suddenly unnerving prospect of deflowering his wife.

"There's always a bit of awkwardness the first time two people make love," he said. "I do not want to hurt you."

"And I do not want to disappoint you."

His gaze roamed over her.
Not much chance of that.
She looked lovely and unbelievably soft. And so innocent. And appealing. And her gown was as provocative as hell. His gaze dropped to the daringly low neckline and he saw the pink tops of her nipples peeping over the edge. His sex swelled in immediate response, and it required a great deal of willpower for him not to groan out loud.

She shifted under his hands. "You're frowning. Is something troubling you? I'd be happy to discuss your problems with you."

"Would you indeed?"

"Of course. It's a wife's duty to relieve her husband of worries, is it not?"

God Almighty, he couldn't wait for her to relieve him of his worries. "In that case, I shall tell you what I am thinking."
And I'll show you.

He gently drew her forward until only several inches separated them.

She raised her chin and looked at him with questioning eyes.

"I was thinking," he began, "that I'd like your hair down." Reaching up, he removed the pearl-encrusted clip that held her hair up on top of her head. Hundreds of long, soft curls spilled over his hands and rippled down her back, their ends brushing just past her hips. He filled his hands with the silky tresses and brought them to his face.

"Your hair is incredible," he whispered breathing in the flowery fragrance of her auburn locks. "I've wanted to touch it, run my hands through it, since the first time I saw you."

She stared at him, motionless, her eyes wide.

"I was also thinking how soft your skin looks," he continued his fingers trailing down her cheeks to her neck, then to the delicate hollow of her collarbone. A soft gasp escaped her when his fingers dipped lower and brushed the swells of her nearly exposed breasts.

Placing his hands on her shoulders, he gently pushed her robe down her limp arms until the material pooled at her feet. Words deserted him, and he could not stop staring at her, at her understated beauty and the onset of desire kindling in her eyes.

"What are you thinking now?" she asked in a breathless whisper when he continued to simply gaze at her in silence.

"I'd prefer to show you." He framed her face between his palms and saw her pulse beating wildly at the base of her throat—beating almost as fast as his own. He lowered his head and kissed her, his lips moving gently at first, then with increasing demand over hers. When his tongue sought entrance to her mouth, she welcomed it with her own. A moan escaped him, and he pulled her closer, his hands roaming up and down her smooth back that the daring gown left bare.