Page 39 of Her Duke Next Door
Eloise had left with Katie the night before when the Duke picked her up while Mary and Hugh were at the ball. Hugh had been content to ignore Eloise since they moved in with him, so he had not noticed. Mary had feigned her having an illness as to why she was absent at breakfast, and although she was anxious to be parted from her daughter, she could not deny that it kept Eloise away from Hugh should anything go wrong.
But it will not go wrong, she thought.It cannot.
Soon, she was ready to leave, and climbed into the carriage, steadying her breath.
“Can you truly go through with this, Mary?” she whispered to herself. “Of course you can. You would have gone through with marrying Hugh. The Duke is a far more preferable choice.” Her thoughts ran away from her as the carriage set off. She sighed. “And he is handsome…”
And the way he kissed me that time!She thought, letting herself indulge. And what of their wedding night, she thought? Would they go through with that, too? Or would he keep away from her? She thought of how passionate he had kissed her in Dower House before she had left for London, and in what other ways might his passion come through?
Her face flushed as she thought about his hands on her again…The carriage rolled toward the public garden where the ceremony was to be held, witnessed by a member of the clergy.
It is only convenience, Mary reminded herself.You do not have to love him. You do not love him.
Her palms sweated. She had not experienced a beautiful wedding of love but her mother had taught her that it was not always the way that things happened.
However, she picked her head up and kept her gaze straight ahead.
“Do what you must for your daughter,” she murmured.
* * *
Word spread quickly of their ceremony, with some onlookers gossiping about the disgraced Lady Yore and the reclusive Duke of Livingston. Yet the Duke looked out at the ladies who promenaded with a weary pinch to his brows, as though there was more to their whispers than simply calling him arecluse.
“Is everything all right, Your Grace?” Mary asked after the ceremony. It felt surreal that she was now officially a Duchess.
The Duke fixed his tailored navy tailcoat and Mary smiled when a tangle of hair got caught beneath the collar. Without thinking, she reached up to tug the strands free, freezing once her fingertips brushed the back of his neck and he stiffened.
“That is quite fine,” he muttered, stepping away from her. “Thank you, my lady.” He paused. “Ah.”
“That is no longer my title,” she reminded him.
“Then I am to call you Duchess of Livingston every time I address you?” he joked with her as they walked toward the gates of the park. “Madam?” he asked. “Duchess Mary? Your Grace?”
The titles all seemed foolish to her and she wished to ask him to call her by her name only but that seemed far too intimate for what they were. Allowing him to address her by her name only felt like crossing that trust barrier before she was ready.
“Your Grace, you may call me Duchess, if you so prefer. It was your suggestion, after all, to make me one.”
His mouth quirked up for a moment until his eyes fell on more gossiping women who eyed them both behind their fans.
“Something is bothering you,” she noted. “Will you tell me what it is?”
“You have heard… The rumors, as we discussed yesterday.”
“Yes,” she answered.
“I would rather you did not listen to them too much,” he told her. “I cannot pretend it is an easy ask, and it is not one that comes from guilt of doing what they say I did, but more from wishing to finally tell you in my own words what happened. I shall tell you one day but not yet. If you do not mind. But I wish to discuss it.”
“Of course,” she answered. “I shared with you details of my late husband’s death but I do not expect to know all of your past immediately. I cannot promise I will not listen to the rumors. They say you were unkind.”
“They say a lot more than that sometimes,” he answered. “And they are wrong to but I did not ever get a chance to set those scandals right.”
“If I have learnt anything through my sister trying valiantly to defend me following my late husband’s death it is that these people shall only listen to the narratives they can gossip about. It is all a scandalous game to them.”
“Until they are the subject,” he said.
“Of course,” she agreed, sighing.
She had her own secrets and past, as he did. She was not ready to trust him with everything, either, so she did not have a problem honoring the same for him.
