Accidental Peers 03 - Compromising Willa (22 page)

Willa faced him when she was fully clothed. “You went to the inn. When?”

“The night I saw you in the solarium with Bellingham, when we argued.”

Her face scrunched up. “How would you even know to go there?”

“I was at the tavern, in my cups, and the barmaid there told me the rumor about you and Augustus and the inn.”

She paled. “Go on.”

“Willa, this isn’t necessary.”

“Tell me.”

Hart sighed. “The chambermaid said you met him there. That you—” Another awkward pause. “That you…ahem…lost your innocence.”

She reddened. “And you believed a chambermaid, a complete stranger?”

His head throbbed. “Well, in my defense, you never actually said you had not lain with Bellingham.”

Willa’s eyes widened. She opened mouth but no words came out at first. Then she found her voice. “Why would I even think to tell you such a thing? Have you taken complete leave of your senses?”

Hart blew out a breath. “The chambermaid took me to the room. She said you left blood on the sheets.” His voice softened. “That you cried when you left.”

Willa turned and paced to the bed, snatching up the red-stained cloth Hart had used to clean her. She hurled it at him. “Then how do you explain this?”

He caught it. “Willa, I know I was mistaken. I felt your maidenhead when I took you.” He took hold of her arm, trying to calm her down.

She pulled away. “Please don’t touch me,” she said, shaking in the effort to control herself. She froze. “Wait. That was the night you came to my bedchamber, the night you said you’d been with a whore.”

He avoided her gaze. The least he could do for her now was to be truthful. “Yes.”

Suspicion gleamed in her liquid eyes. “Where did you find this whore?”

“Well, she wasn’t what you could precisely call a whore,” he said slowly, feeling like he was careening toward the edge of a cliff with no way to slow the momentum. “It was more like her side vocation.”

“What does that mean?” she demanded.

“She is a chambermaid.”

“A chambermaid?” Her voice rose in disbelief.

“Yes,” he said, wincing inwardly. “At the inn.”

“At the inn where you thought Augustus and I—?” Her face twisted with repugnance. “Not in the same bed that you believed that I…he—” she whispered, horrified.

Miserable, he sank down into a chair in front of the fireplace. “I fear so.”

“So,” she said, her voice shaking, “you believed I had no honor, and what we’ve discovered this evening is that it is you, Your Grace, who has no honor.”

…

Willa awoke the following morning to a pounding headache. Looking around at the pink silk and velvet surroundings, it took her a moment to remember she was in her large, unfamiliar chambers at Fairview Manor. Thin shards of light streamed through a crack in the closed curtains. The door that adjoined Hart’s chamber was slightly ajar but Willa couldn’t discern any noises coming from the other side of it. She sat up and stretched, wondering how long she had slept. Dragging herself out of bed, she moved quietly so as not to awaken Hart. She was in no mood to face her new husband. The big dolt.

She focused instead on her first day as mistress of Fairview Manor, intending to wash, dress, and get on with the business of being Duchess of Hartwell. Her marriage might be a disaster, but she had duties to attend to. She would begin by acquainting herself with her new home. She would meet with the housekeeper and go over the household accounts.

There was a polite tap on the door followed by a maid Willa recognized from last evening. The maid directed the footmen who’d arrived with warm water for Willa’s bath.

“Pardon me, Your Grace. The duke called for your warm bath.”

Hart strolled through the adjoining doorway, clad only in his crimson dressing gown. “Thank you, Vera.” He turned to Willa, acting every inch the enamored bridegroom. “Darling, I called for the bath as soon as we awoke.” He walked to Willa, draping an arm around her waist. “Vera, please bring a breakfast tray for us as well. And we are not to be disturbed after that.” His commanding voice left no doubt who was master here. It was also full of implication.

Vera’s mouth curved upward. Casting a knowing eye at the newlyweds, she kept her tone respectful. “Yes, Your Grace.”

Willa flushed at Hart’s insinuation and at the casual possessiveness of his firm hand at her waist. She willed herself to stay still, planting a small serene smile on her face. She could easily guess the gossip that would dominate the kitchens today, and she wouldn’t compound matters by pulling away from Hart in front of a servant.

Hart tugged Willa closer to his side, tucking her against his masculine warmth. “After we bathe, you may change the bed clothes. My lady wife and I will take breakfast in my chambers while you do so. Oh, and Vera, Her Grace and I will take all of our meals in our chambers today.”

Vera’s knowing smile widened, but she avoided eye contact as she continued readying the bath. She kept her tone deferential. “Yes, Your Grace.”

Willa struggled not to erupt in front of Vera. Hart was a bedlamite if he expected her to stay in these chambers with him for the remainder of the day. And if he anticipated a repeat of last night, a most unwelcome surprise awaited him.

The moment Vera finished her task and withdrew, Willa pulled away from Hart. “I will be taking my breakfast in the morning room,” she said with cool disdain. “After that, I will ask Digby to give me a tour of the manor and then I plan to meet with Mrs. Pearson to go over the household accounts.”

“You will breakfast in here with me, my dear wife.” He dropped his tall frame into a chair by the hearth. “We are newly wed after all. What would the servants think if we were up and about so soon after the wedding night?”

Willa’s chest squeezed. “I don’t care what they think.”

“Well, I do. I will not have you subject to any more speculation.”

“Beg pardon?”

He sighed heavily. “Willa, as unfortunate as it is, there are widespread, unsavory rumors about your association with Bellingham. I heard them myself at Brooks, from men who are considered respectable.” He crossed an ankle over his knee, baring a strong leg lightly dusted with dark hair. “I cannot allow that to continue. If we leave this room, it could suggest I was displeased with my new bride in some way. And given the rumors, it is not difficult to surmise what conclusion the servants will draw.”

Casting a look at the stain of her maidenhead in the unmade bed, she said, “And you begin my redemption by making certain the servants see the evidence of my innocence on the bed clothes.”

Hart pushed to his feet and walked to her, brushing a tendril of wayward hair away from her face. Willa felt a familiar excitement at Hart’s touch. Silently cursing her weakness, she moved away from him and toward the bath.

“So Willa,” he continued, his eyes following her, “we will make every appearance of being the besotted newly-married couple. We are stuck together here in this chamber at least until the morrow. We will take all of our meals in here until the morning. Do you understand?”

The heat of anger rose in Willa. Hart meant to trap her in here with him when she craved to be as far from him as possible. What did he expect to do all day? She eyed the tub which had been readied for her. The steaming water would rapidly cool and she hated tepid baths.

“As you wish, Your Grace.” Steeling herself against a natural inclination toward modesty and forcing herself not to rush, she unbelted her dressing gown and dropped the garment to the floor with a haughty disregard, revealing her bare body to his gaze.

His mouth dropped open. “By God, you are magnificent.”

Taking her time, she stepped into the bath and sank down into it, the rush of warm water cradling her tingling body. Her challenging gaze met his. “I trust you won’t force your unwanted attentions on me.”

Hart cocked an eyebrow, his face darkening. Desire curled in Willa’s belly and she hated herself for still wanting him after the disaster of last night.

“It is my right as your husband to bed you when I please.” He sauntered over to the bath, openly enjoying the sight of her bare body as he came to tower over her. “I could take you in that bath at this very moment and this time, you would enjoy it.” His commanding tone made Willa stiffen. He reached down and she held her breath, waiting to feel his hands on her sensitized skin. But then a glint appeared in his eye and he reached beyond her, for the soap on a stool at her side. Straightening up, he dropped it into the water with a plopping splash. “However, I’ve never forced a woman and I don’t intend to start now.”

Fighting disappointment, Willa’s defiant eyes held his gaze. She found the soap in the water and began to clean herself. She moved in an unhurried, methodical manner, cleansing the length of each arm, as though Hart were not watching her every move. The soap’s rose fragrance filled the air.

Pointing a water-glistened leg out of the water, she ran both hands up her limb and then back down again. She repeated the motion with the other leg and still Hart did not move.

Hart’s breathing grew louder when her hands glided over her breasts. She soaped them in rhythmic movements, with both hands, until their pink buds peaked. Heat gathered within her and a significant part of her wished the hands caressing her tingling skin were Hart’s instead of her own.

His eyes clung to her every movement. Although he didn’t touch her, her body alerted to his, and the impact of it heated her skin until she felt feverish. Still, she pretended to ignore him while giving each part of her tingling body the same concentrated attention. When her hands moved to her private place, she couldn’t help flushing. Her body pulsed for him, especially there.

Hart groaned and spun away. “I begin to comprehend that this going to be a very trying day.”

Willa leaned her head back on the edge of the tub and closed her eyes, her mouth curving in satisfaction.

…

The next day, she escaped him as soon as she could. Anxious to learn more about her new home, she asked Digby for a tour after a quick solitary meal in the breakfast room.

It was early, so the housemaids were still going about their morning tasks cleaning the grates and lighting the fires. She waved off the butler’s apologies that all of the fires had not been lit before she left her chambers.

“Nonsense,” said Willa. “It is I who should apologize for undertaking this tour so early in the morning.” The housemaid snuck a quick look as she used a tinder box to light the fire, appearing amazed a duchess would think to apologize to servants. The rest of the staff was also busy, moving briskly about their work. Along the tour, Willa and Digby passed footmen cleaning and preparing the oil lamps and candles. Others were polishing the furniture in the principal rooms.

The portly, distinguished butler was polite and formal. As their tour progressed, Willa noticed the subtle but knowing looks from some of the servants. Even Digby’s reproving looks didn’t completely quell them. She imagined the stained bedclothes had done their work.

The size and opulence of Fairview Manor astonished Willa. Camryn Hall was large and gracious, but it seemed diminutive compared to her new abode. The second floor galleries alone were immense, running the entire length of the house. And Willa had never seen such gardens. They were meticulously maintained and encompassed well over seven acres, boasting dozens of different plant and flower varieties.

When their tour came to an end, Digby left Willa to explore the gardens on her own. Wandering through, she imagined herself spending a great deal of time in the garden on fine days. Looking at the variety of plants and blooms, Willa recalled her encounter with Hart in Camryn Hall’s gardens. A fluttering heat rose in her chest as she remembered their shared passion and hunger that day. How different it had been from her wedding night.

Shaking the thoughts from her mind, she wondered whether Hart was awake yet. Being locked away together yesterday had been an ordeal. Willa had pointedly ignored him, turning to her books instead of letting Hart draw her into a game of chess or conversation. She’d played the role of adoring bride well enough when Vera brought their meals, but retreated back into her shell once they were alone again. Hart had been polite and solicitous, but she detected flashes of annoyance in him as the day wore on.

Walking at a brisk pace in the garden, Willa pondered Hart’s revelations. Her initial surprise and outrage had receded, leaving a barrage of questions in their place. Outright doubts about her innocence were discussed openly at a gentlemen’s club. By respectable gentlemen. It was beyond mortifying. Until now, bolstered by her family’s support, she’d never fully comprehended just how ruined she was. That was no longer the case, of course. As Duchess of Hartwell, her new exalted station placed her above recrimination.

Still, Augustus’ words reverberated in her mind.
They know you are mine.
He’d been so certain people would assume she belonged to him, even though she and the earl had not seen each other in years.

“There you are.” Hart’s avuncular voice sounded behind her. “Hiding out from me in the gardens?”

Willa turned to watch her new husband stride toward her. He dressed casually in a country style, his white shirt open at the neck, with snug brown breeches falling into slightly worn Hessian boots, unlike the gleaming black ones he usually donned. His midnight hair was tied back and he looked impeccable as usual.