Page 51 of A Virgin for the Duke of Scars
She was nothing if not a woman of the cloth who had been raised to think of charity rather than opulence. It only seemed natural that some of the money—money they had not earned—would go toward helping others.
Juliette and the Dowager Duchess stood up from the table, and Theresa knew this was her cue to cut the conversation short. She leaned down and kissed his good cheek before rushing outside, where the other two were already waiting for her.
“You and my brother certainly seem to have found common ground,” Juliette commented, once they were ensconced in the carriage. “I do not recall the last time I heard him banter with anyone the way he does with you.”
“I am quite fond of him,” Theresa admitted, her cheeks pinkening.
“Nothing to be embarrassed about there,” the Dowager Duchess assured her. “He is your husband. It is only natural that you feel some affection for him. The Lord can work in mysterious ways, as you well know, Theresa.”
“Grandmama, you had an arranged marriage like Theresa. Did you love your husband?” Juliette asked.
“Things were different back then. Most marriages were arranged to unite our families and consolidate power beneath the Crown. I will not confess to loving my husband, but we were great friends.”
With those words hanging in the air, the three women rode to the art gallery.
Theresa made it a point to stare out the window so that she could learn the streets and eventually navigate them on her own. She knew the drivers would take her where she wanted to go, but eventually, she would want to go out for walks.
They pulled up to the art gallery, and her heart soared. She had never imagined she would find so much art in one place. The building was enormous, almost as tall as Blackwell Manor and wider than St. Agatha’s. And to think, the whole place was piled with art!
There were paintings in the nunnery, of course. The common area and the rooms dedicated to fervent prayer were marked by the austere portraits of saints. The paintings existed not for their enjoyment and pleasure but to remind them of the sacrifices of those who came before.
Theresa was ready for a new experience.
“We’ll start with the west wing and work our way around,” Juliette suggested. “Try not to get lost in here; it is a maze.”
“I shall stick with you and Grandmama,” Theresa promised.
The three women entered the art gallery, which was at least ten degrees cooler than the streets and the inside of the carriage. Theresa felt the cool breeze immediately upon walking through the doors and stood still.
To the right and left, she could see only endless paintings hanging on the walls. The path through the gallery was meandering, taking her this way and that. Seeing this much art for the first time, she felt that the few hours they had set aside for exploring would never be enough.
“I have never seen so much art in one place,” she breathed.
She drifted toward the exhibits in the west wing while Juliette followed several paces behind her.
Theresa was drawn to the excess colors, the patterns, and shapes that she could never have imagined. These were abstract paintings, still lives, depictions of daily life that would not be appropriate for a nunnery.
She blushed a bit upon seeing the nude paintings, but then she remembered that she was a married woman now. That this was mere art and said nothing about her for looking. To look upon the naked human body was to see the beauty all around her.
Unfortunately, those paintings also made her think about her husband. She wondered what he would look like beneath his mask, beneath his shirt, even beneath his breeches.
If she could have her way, she would strip her new husband of his clothes and feel his skin on hers. In her mind, she relived the moment he had grabbed her when she invaded his private quarters, her face pressed to his chest. He was strong and sturdy beneath her cheek.
Would every part of him be just as pleasing as that one encounter?
Theresa tried to keep her mind focused on the paintings rather than what lay beneath her husband’s clothes. She was soentranced by the paintings and her desires that she didn’t notice the Duke of Hiverville approaching her.
“It is a pleasure to run into you again, Duchess,” he greeted, taking her hand in his and planting a kiss on the back of it.
Theresa was certain Aaron would not appreciate it, but it seemed to be a normal greeting in this place. She thought back to the Dowager Duchess’s lessons about how to greet people of lower ranks, but this man was a duke, so the rules did not apply. And he did not look like he was waiting for her to curtsy.
“The pleasure is mine,” she returned.
On second thought, she decided to bob a quick curtsy. She wanted to practice the new skills Juliette and the Dowager Duchess had taught her.
“We have not had much chance to get to know one another. But Aaron is one of my closest friends, so it only makes sense that we get to know one another as well. If you can be married to a beast, surely you can be friends with the likes of me.”
“I would not call my husband a beast,” she retorted.
