Page 24 of My Demanding Duke

This woman had joined her life to his. If Hugh wanted to win her heart, he would have to make his life one she would want to share.

CHAPTER EIGHT

ANNA WOKE ATthe crack of dawn, refreshed after an unexpectedly deep sleep. The fire in the grate was low, but the room retained its heat. She slipped from her warm bed to the window, pulling back the damask curtain to watch the sunrise over St James’ Square.

Outside, she saw the first stirrings of life: a lamplighter extinguishing the last flickering street lamps, a sleepy footman in livery hauling a coal scuttle inside, and a maid chattering to a costermonger as he unloaded baskets of fruit and vegetables from his cart.

Anna pressed her fingers to the cold windowpane, absently watching the scene unfold. The predictability of others’ routines—the slow rhythm of the square at first light—was oddly comforting. Even more so now that she had woken to a life that no longer felt like her own. Would she, too, find comfort in new habits? Would she ever feel at home in this grand house, in this marriage she had not chosen?

A soft draught curled around her ankles, pulling her from her thoughts. With a small shiver, Anna drew her shawl tighter around her shoulders and turned back toward the fire, grabbing a book that Josie had thought to pack into her portmanteau.

She had intended to lose herself in the familiar pages of Fanny Burney’s Evelina, in the trials and triumphs of a young woman navigating society. But the words blurred as she stared at them, her mind circling back to the night before.

To Falconbridge. To their kiss. To the thrilling hardness she had felt when he pressed her against him.

And yet, he had not taken her to bed.

Why?

Heat crept up her neck as she closed the book with a snap, frustrated with herself for ruminating over a man she claimed to despise. She should be grateful for his restraint, should she not? A proper gentleman would give her time to adjust to her new role as a wife. And yet, the memory of his lips against hers, of the restrained power in his touch, made her ache with a longing she barely understood.

Though, she understood well enough, that if Falconbridgehaddecided to claim his marital rights last night, that she would have surrendered happily to his demands. This knowledge filled her with a sense of shame; what was it about the man that made her forget herself?

A gentle knock at the door interrupted her brooding thoughts. Anna smoothed her nightgown, before calling, "Come in."

The door opened to reveal Josie, bearing a tray of tea and a warm smile.

"Good morning, Your Grace," she said brightly, setting the tray down before moving to stir the dying embers in the hearth. "Oh, I’m glad you’re awake so I’ve someone to talk with. There’s that many servants here, you wouldn’t believe. I’d imagine that if His Grace was so inclined, he’d never have to lift a hand to scratch his own backside.”

“I can’t imagine there’d be many volunteers for that position,” Anna snorted, pulled from her tumultuous thoughts by Josie’s familiar pattering.

“The world is full of strange people,” Josie answered with a mischievous smile. “I’m sure there’d be one. And, mark my words, it would probably be the underbutler, Mr Reeves. As you well know, I’m not one to gossip, but a stranger man I have never met…”

Josie told Anna the gossip she had gleaned at breakfast as she bustled about the bedchamber with practiced efficiency. She laid out one of the day dresses Madame Delacroix had sent over days before, along with stays, a petticoat, and a chemise, before helping Anna change.

“Pretty as a picture for your first full day as a duchess,” Josie declared after she had finished pinning Anna’s hair into a simple knot.

“I expect I’ll have much to do,” Anna ventured, nervously. “Meet with the staff, inspect the house—I’ll have to write to my aunts to tell them the news of the wedding.”

“No hurry on that front, dearie,” Josie assured her. “It might take weeks for a missive to reach Aberdeen; a delay of a day or two won’t make a difference. If you want my advice—not that I’d deign to offer advice to a duchess—the first thing you need to do is to eat a hearty breakfast.”

“I concur,” a deep voice called, startling both Anna and Josie.

She turned to find her husband leaning against the door frame, just as he had last night. Mercifully, this morning, he was fully dressed, his shirt properly buttoned, a cravat at his throat.

“Most people knock, before they enter a room,” Anna snipped, earning herself a shocked pinch from Josie.

“I am not most people,” Falconbridge shrugged, before allowing himself a self-aware grin at his high-handedness. “I pray you will forgive my unannounced interruption. I have been a confirmed bachelor for so long that I have acquired bad habits. You will have to be strict with me, if you wish to bring me to heel.”

Anna resisted rolling her eyes at his silver tongue. Josie however, had turned pink and looked as though she might swoon. Traitor, Anna thought, mutinously.

“You are not a dog for me to train, your Grace,” Anna answered the duke, with a tartness to cancel his sweet.

“Nor am I a stranger to you,” his reply was swift and firm. “I will not tell you again, you will address me as Hugh when we are alone.”

His eyes met hers, holding her gaze in a challenge. Anna was no clairvoyant, but she could see him thinking of their embrace last night. He was correct; they were not strangers.

"Shall we go down to breakfast?" Falconbridge broke the silence first, extending his arm for her to take.

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