To Marry The Duke (15 page)

“Did your mother come?” Sophia asked without looking at him. “I was too nervous to look and see who was sitting in the front pews.”

James searched his mind for an excuse. “She is still unwell. Of course, she sends her regrets and is anticipating your arrival at Wentworth with much eagerness.”

“I’m looking forward to meeting her. She won’t mind, will she? Handing her duties and responsibilities over to me? Or having to vacate her rooms?”

“Why do you ask? You aren’t nervous about meeting her, are you?”

“No, I just… I always expected to know a man’s family before I married into it. As it stands, I will only meet your siblings for the first time today.”

“You’ve met Lily.”

“Yes, and I like her very much.”

He took her gloved hand. “Then do not worry yourself. You are the new Duchess of Wentworth, and Mother knows well enough what her duty is—and that is to step aside. You shall have no problems there. Believe me, she will know her boundaries.”

Sophia’s eyes met his directly. “Please, I beg your pardon, James. I wasn’t suggesting that there should be boundaries. I merely worry that she might feel left out, or feel as if she has no more purpose. That won’t be the case, of course. I am sure I will rely on your mother for everything. To show me what to do. To share my joys and disappointments as I share them with my own mother. I hope we will be close, James. I hope she will love me like a true daughter.”

There was that word again—
love
—carelessly flung about. It was one thing to say it with him, in the privacy of their carriage, but he hoped Sophia would know enough to be a little less candid when she met her mother-in-law. James doubted his mother would know what to make of such sentiments, especially considering how she felt about her new daughter-in-law.

If Sophia was ever going to be accepted by the woman, she would have to learn to behave with a little more… Englishness.

“Let us think of ourselves today, Sophia, and not worry about the future. Everything will work out.”

“I do apologize, James. There have just been so many changes these past few weeks. I suppose I’m a little overwhelmed.”

“As any bride would be on her wedding day, when crowds of strangers are cheering and shouting her name.” They both waved simultaneously in the same direction. “Do not feel anxious, my dear. Tonight, it will be just the two of us, and we will celebrate in our own, private way.”

James stroked Sophia’s cheek with a finger, and with one single kiss, knew he had successfully melted away her concerns just in time for their arrival at Wentworth House.

Late in the afternoon, after Sophia had spent a pleasant few minutes conversing with James’s younger brother Martin—who was a handsome young man at sixteen—her father took her by the arm and led her to a settee. She gazed lovingly at his bushy gray sideburns and mustache, his wild mane of gray hair. He looked so handsome in his wedding attire.

“My darling girl,” he said with his booming, Southern drawl, “I haven’t had a minute alone with you— such a beautiful bride—to really congratulate you. You know how proud I am?”

Sophia wrapped her arms around her father’s big shoulders and hugged him tightly. “I’m going to miss you all so much.”

“Now, now, don’t fret, we’re only a steamship ride away, and I’m sure your sisters will be writing to you constantly. I don’t doubt, after the pageantry they’ve witnessed today, they’ll be wanting to come back in a year or two and snare English husbands for themselves.”

Sophia grabbed his nose and wiggled it. “Oh, Papa, I didn’t snare anyone. James and I are in love.”

His voice became more serious. “I know you love him. I can see it in your eyes. But do remember, this is a different world, Sophia, and if you ever need me to come and fetch you… I know your mother wouldn’t like it but—”

“I’ll be fine, Papa,” she replied, uncomfortable with the direction this conversation was taking. “You needn’t worry. I’ll be the happiest woman on earth.”

He hugged her again. “Ah, my young girls. You’re a horde of hopeless romantics.” He withdrew from the hug and took her hand. “I know this is your wedding day, but I do have to speak to you about the marriage settlement. I want you to know what your situation will be, before you go off and become known to the world as the new Duchess of Wentworth.”

“Of course,” she replied, feeling her smile slowly drain away.

“The amount of the dowry was settled at one million pounds, five hundred thousand as a lump sum and the balance paid in installments for the first two years of your marriage, as well as two hundred thousand pounds worth of my railway stock, the yield payable annually. I’ve also agreed to pay all the country estate debts outstanding as of the date of the settlement; otherwise, half your dowry would have been gone before you’d even reached Wentworth.”

Sophia snapped her mouth shut. A huge surge of nausea flowed like a river into her stomach. “I had no idea the settlement would be so large.”

Nor had she known that James’s estate was so deeply in debt.

Her father seemed to notice something change in her expression. He began to ramble with some explanations. “James wasn’t present for the negotiations, of course, nor was I. Our lawyers hammered it out, and you know how cutthroat those people can be.”

She nodded, but inside, there was a painful, squeezing despair. It was like having her fairy-tale wedding bubble pricked with a gigantic knitting needle.

“In addition to that,” he said, rubbing his hand over the back of hers, “I’ve arranged for you to have your own bank account and an annuity of fifty thousand pounds per year, payable quarterly.”

“Papa, that really wasn’t necessary.”

“Well, well, maybe not for you, but it’s more for my own peace of mind. I need to know that my little girl will never want for anything. Things are different here, darling. Married women, according to law, have no control over their money. Dowries are absorbed into the husband’s estate, and wives are given an allowance, which depends solely on their husbands’ generosity. I’ll not have you going to James every time you want to buy something. That was the deal, and I said ‘it’s the American way, so take it or leave it,’ and naturally the Langdon lawyers took it.” Then as an afterthought, he added, “Because, of course, James would never have allowed anything to keep him from marrying you.”

Sophia swallowed over the painful lump in her throat and hugged her father again. “Thank you, Papa, for everything you’ve done. You’ve made me very happy.” She rested her cheek on his broad shoulder and squeezed her eyes shut to keep him from seeing the single tear that was spilling from her eye.

“Congratulations, Duchess,” Lord Whitby said, appearing beside Sophia after the German soloist finished his set. “I do believe you are the most dazzling bride London has ever seen.” He raised his champagne glass to toast her before taking a sip.

“Thank you, Lord Whitby.”

“Lord Whitby! Please, you must call me Edward.”

Sophia smiled. “Edward, then. You are enjoying yourself, I hope?”

“Immensely. And I am a big enough man to admit that I am envious of your husband—the lucky devil.” He glanced around the room over the rim of his glass, his gaze searching for James. “I have accepted that the better man won. He is a duke, after all. I shouldn’t take it too personally.”

Sophia would have liked to correct him on that— that he should indeed take it very personally, for there was no other way to take it—but of course, she held her tongue.

“So you’re off to Rome tomorrow,” he said, and she was thankful he was changing the subject.

“Yes, we’ll spend a fortnight there, then return to Yorkshire.”

“You’ve not been there yet?”

“No, but I’m looking forward to seeing the house and the countryside. I hear it’s lovely in the north.”

“Yes, there is a certain ‘oldness’ to the place. Lots of fog. It’s very damp; I hope you have a warm cloak.” He took another sip of champagne.

“I do, Edward, thank you.” She sipped from her own glass and gazed across the room to where James was conversing with a man she did not know.
Please, come and rescue me
, she thought.

At that precise moment, their gazes locked and her husband noticed the earl beside her. Without a second’s hesitation, he tapped the man he was talking to and left him. It was as if her husband had read her mind.

She felt a sudden buoyant euphoria—that her belief in their soulful connection had just been validated.

He crossed the room toward her, looking so handsome that she feared she might forget decorum and drag him upstairs that very minute. The anticipation for the night ahead was almost painful.

“Whitby,” James said, reaching them, “you’re not trying to charm my wife away from me, I hope.”

The two gentlemen laughed, but Sophia sensed tension between them. Had her marriage to James caused a rift in their friendship? she wondered, for she knew that Lord Whitby had wanted her. He had sent those beautiful roses…

After a few minutes of awkward conversation, the earl politely took his leave, and Sophia was left alone with James in the crowded reception hall. He touched her under the chin.

“It seems as if I’ve married a heartbreaker,” he said with some humor.

Sophia smiled guiltily. “I hope Edward had not held any unrealistic hopes that there might have been a match between us.”

“How could any man refrain from hoping where you are concerned?”

She felt a curious whirling sensation in her belly and farther down. How was it possible she could have matured into a grown woman and never known how desire could eclipse one’s ability to think rationally? How it could make her tremble with such need, that all she could comprehend was her body’s sensation, with little care about anything else? If she hadn’t had such a firm head on her shoulders, she would have kissed him right there in front of everyone. Passionately.

Sophia gazed into her husband’s eyes. “I’ve never known a man more charming and handsome than you.”

“Nor I a more fascinating woman. We are a good match, then.”

“We are, James.” She tasted another sip of the pleasantly intoxicating champagne, and anticipated the night ahead with indulgent, naughty expectation.

Chapter 12

James dismissed his valet early, and still in his wedding clothes, picked up a candelabra and left his room. He’d been anticipating this moment all day long—all season long if he was honest with himself— and a firm urge for hastiness overcame him. He’d done enough waiting. It was time to enjoy his enthusiastic bride.

He walked down the dimly lit corridor of his London house. Already, he was feeling a tremor of arousal for what lay ahead in the next few hours. Best, however, to curtail those thoughts until he was at least in her room, preferably in her bed.

He reached his wife’s boudoir and knocked. He hoped he had given her enough time to undress and settle in. Surely Mildred, her new maid, had taken good care of her.

“Come in,” he heard, from inside.

He opened the door and stepped over the threshold.

Sophia wore a white nightdress. She was sitting up in her huge, canopied bed, her legs crossed at the ankles on top of the covers. Waiting for him, apparently.

He gazed at her small bare feet and saw the wicked smile on her face, and congratulated himself upon being right about one thing. She was ardent about her duties—at least this particular one, to produce an heir. He had chosen well, for this aspect of their marriage— the carnal pleasure that would result while they both did their “duty”—was in all likelihood the only thing he would permit himself to enjoy over the long term.

He moved calmly into the room and set the candles on her dressing table. “You’re not too tired, I hope, after such a long day.”

She shook her head quickly to say no, so he sauntered toward the big bed, tugging his neckcloth from side to side.

“Well, then,” he said with a smile, “perhaps we can make use of this private time together to get to know each other in a more intimate manner.”

“I would like that, James. More than anything.”

He shrugged out of his white waistcoat and began to unbutton his shirt. “You met Mildred?” He thought it might be good to make some light conversation in an attempt to lighten his bride’s nerves.

“I did, and I sent her out. I hope that was not too wrong of me.”

He paused at the bottom button. “You sent her out? What do you mean?”

“She wanted to bathe me, James.” She said it as if it were something strange.

“You weren’t comfortable with that?”

“No. I haven’t had anyone bathe me since I was a child.”

He pulled off his shirt and climbed onto the bed beside Sophia. “But duchesses are always bathed by their maids.”

“That’s exactly what Mildred said.” She lowered her long-lashed gaze to her hands on her lap. She was fiddling with her wedding band, turning it around and around on her finger.

He covered her hands with his own. “You’ll become accustomed to things in time.”

His touch seemed to appease her. “I suppose. I’m glad you’re here.”

“I’m glad, too. Would you like me to put out the candles?”

She gave him a mischievous smile. “No, I would like to leave them burning. I would like to be able to look at your face tonight.”

He had the distinct impression, however, she wanted to see something beyond just his face.

The comment shook him, perhaps because she was his wife and there were certain expectations—expectations that were different from what he was used to in a bed partner.

He felt a great weight upon his chest suddenly, knowing that it would not be easy to resist the emotional involvement that would—or should—come from this marriage. This was new territory.

“We shall let them burn all night, then,” he said nonetheless, because he was an expert lover, and his desire to pleasure his wife outweighed his misgivings.

He leaned toward her and touched his mouth to hers, easing her full lips apart. The inside of her mouth tasted like paradise as her sweet tongue twirled enticingly around his. Like his courtship and proposal, he was being carried away again on that unmanageable wave, forgetting his objectives, and instead, enjoying the journey to wherever the current took him. He was now completely immersed in the pure enjoyment of this provocative woman, in the texture of her soft skin and the rapturous scent of her perfume.

Her hands clutched at his shoulders, a whimper escaped her, and he realized he was rock-hard already— painfully so, in fact. He eased her back onto the soft pillows, his hands sliding down her belly, over the soft linen of her nightgown, while the taste of her mouth quickened his blood and washed his senses in hot, mellifluous desire. He kissed her deeply, devouring her mouth with his own, then suckled the soft skin along her warm, slender neck.

Sophia inched down to lie back on the bed. “I’ve dreamed of this moment ever since that night in the conservatory. I didn’t know the meaning of passion before then.”

God, his head was swimming. Searching for patience to resist taking her here and now, he leaned on one elbow to gaze down at her face in the dim light. “You’ve been looking forward to this, then?”

“Yes. I want to do everything with you, James. I want you to show me how to make you happy.”

“It would indeed be my pleasure, Duchess.”

She began to unbutton her nightdress, then sat up and pulled it off over her head. Leaning back to make way, James realized he’d married an uncommonly assertive woman. Assertive, at least, in the bedroom, and he was not sorry for that, no.

She was naked now, cupping his face in her hands. She pulled him down for another openmouthed kiss. His own passions bucked wildly again, and he rolled on top of her and thrust his hips against hers, let his hand glide over her bare breasts and down to her long, slender legs, which she wrapped around him.

He began to suckle her breasts, feeling dangerously out of control with need. She moaned and buried her fingers in his hair as he licked and teased her taut nipples like a starving man.

“That feels so good, James.” Her voice was breathy and feverish. “How do you know what feels so good?”

“Because it feels just as good to me.”

“Oh, I suppose men and women are designed for this, aren’t they?” She writhed with pleasure beneath him. “Like a round peg and a perfectly sized hole.”

He couldn’t have said it better himself.

His hand worked its way down her adorable flat belly to the cleft of soft hair at its base. She instinctively spread her legs apart and he slid a finger into the creamy, liquid heat of her womanly flesh. Sexual intoxication swirled inside his head. He shut his eyes and pleasured her, at the same time preparing her for what was to come.

“What are you doing to me?” she asked him in a way that revealed her surprise that such delights were possible.

He watched her face intently, his own body hot with urgent need. “I thought we’d start small and work our way up.”

“To what? This doesn’t feel small to me. It’s overwhelming, James.”

He smiled wickedly. “There will be more, I quite assure you.”

With the barrier of her virginity loosening around his finger, a flaming heat began to ignite deep in his loins. She was drenched, and he wanted to feel that damp heat around his own center of desire. He withdrew his finger and reached down to unbutton his trousers.

Sophia opened her eyes and rolled to her side. She was wet and tingling between her legs. She could only assume this was normal, for James seemed at ease with it. A slow, lazy grin moved across his lips as he slid his pants down over his hips. Sophia trembled at the fire racing through her veins—then the shock and fever that exploded at the sight of his tremendous arousal. Too late, she realized her eyebrows had lifted in shock.

“I’ve frightened you,” he said, tossing his trousers to the floor and rolling onto his side to reassure her. “Perhaps we should have snuffed out the candles after all.”

“No,” she lied, trying to keep her gaze fixed on his eyes when all she wanted to do was look down at what she’d never in her life imagined was possible.

He reached for her hand and gently wrapped it around him. He was rigid there, yet the skin was warm and silky-smooth to her touch. He showed her how to stroke him. She enjoyed watching how the pleasure carried him away, as it had carried her earlier.

Then he slid his hand between her thighs again. Sophia spread her legs and grew short of breath as her belly quivered with a delicious, pulsing need. He stroked her until she grew gloriously numb in certain places, wildly sensitive in others. All the while, he kissed her breasts, flicked his tongue over her nipples, and drove her mad with exotic desires.

He left a trail of kisses down her belly, then slid his shoulders between her legs and kissed her lower, where the creamy, hot pleasure was centered. She raised her knees and clutched at his head, feeling drunk with lust and disbelief as she murmured his name.

For a long while, he pleasured her that way, then climbed catlike over her.

“I can’t wait much longer,” he said, touching the hot skin of his torso to hers. He gazed down at her for a moment, his expression tender and blissful.

Sophia’s heart quickened with both fear and eager anticipation. The silky tip of his erection touched her most intimate place, and she knew he was about to thrust himself inside. Her husband, her mate, the man of her dreams… they were about to be joined forever, in both body and spirit. She clutched at his broad shoulders and braced herself, for she could not imagine the hugeness of him penetrating what had been difficult for his finger to penetrate only moments ago.

“Try to relax,” he whispered in her ear.

She nodded. “I will.”

He reached down with his hand to guide himself to her opening, then slowly thrust forward.

The pressure made her inch away from him. She bumped her own head against the headboard.

James retreated.

She swallowed nervously and realized she would have to stay in one place if he was going to gain entry. “I’m sorry, I couldn’t help it. You’re just so very… large.”

She inched her way back down so her head was on the pillow again.

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“Try again, James. I want to feel you inside me.”

He kissed her then, and she parted her lips for him and felt the heat of his tongue and the heat of her own desire—a wave of moisture down below where he was poised, waiting. God, she wanted him with such fury, her body was pulsing with it. “Please, James… now…”