Page 17 of The Wicked Duke's Convenient Bride
“Do men know that they must be gentle?” Tabitha asked.
Surely, they did, right? After all, men were allowed more freedom than ladies. The Duke of Hillsburgh did not have a reputation for being a rake, and Tabitha had heard no stories about him being one, even in youth. But surely, during his long marriage to the late Duchess of Hillsburgh, he would have learned some of the finer art of intercourse.
“Some of them know to be careful,” she said. “His Grace was married previously, so I imagine he knows more than many men.”
Tabitha nodded, comforted to learn that her mother’s thoughts had followed her own.
“Simply tell him if you experience any discomfort,” her mother added, “and I am sure he will be more careful.”
“Right,” Tabitha said.
She did not like the idea of being in pain, particularly on her wedding night; however, a part of her was terribly curious to know what it would feel like.
“And if he is especially good, you will experience the most marvellous sensations,” her mother continued.
Tabitha smiled. “I know,” she said.
“You know?”
She laughed. “I have read about what happens in an amorous congress, and it seems simple enough. He sheaths his manhood inside my maidenhood, and we will move against one another. After some time, he will spill his seed inside me.”
Her mother’s jaw dropped. She looked somewhere between scandalized and baffled. “How do you know all that?”
“I am exceptionally well-read.”
Her mother laughed. “Well, I suppose that makes sense. I hope you know that not all books are like the wedding night, though.”
“Noted.”
Tabitha had to admit that—despite His Grace’s insistence that her daily duties to the marriage bed were only so that she could bear an heir—a small part of her was excited to spend a night with her husband. The wedding night was an undiscovered mystery, and now, there was no danger of damaging her reputation. A married woman was allowed to share a bed with a man, and no one would say otherwise.
The door opened again, and Tabitha’s father smiled at them. “My two beautiful ladies,” he said. “It is time for the wedding.”
He offered his arm, and Tabitha’s pulse quickened. She placed her fingers on his elbow and gazed at him, beaming with pride.
“I will see you after the ceremony,” her mother said, sweeping past them.
“My dear Tabby Cat,” Lord Mayhew said. “Are you ready for this?”
Tabitha did not know if she would ever be ready, but it seemed as though it was much too late for her to turn away. “I am.”
They left the room. Tabitha felt as though her chest was tying itself into knots as she and her father slowly made their way to the chapel. The wedding was a comparatively modest affair, unlike the opulence that Tabitha most often saw at the weddings of the ton. His Grace had justified their small wedding by declaring that he and Tabitha were simply too in love with one another to wait a moment longer. Planning an extravagant wedding would take time, which neither was prepared to take. Those were lies, of course, but Tabitha still appreciated them. The Duke of Hillsburgh had successfully explained why they were getting married so quickly.
When they entered the chapel, Tabitha’s heart beat so loudly that its echo reverberated inside her skull. As she approached the altar, she felt like a swarm of butterflies had taken residence in her chest. His Grace waited for them not far away. Tabitha’s breath caught in her throat as she gazed at him.
He waited for her, stately and handsome, with his hands clasped behind his back. The flickering firelight from the candles cast bright shadows on his black hair and traced along the strong lines of his cheekbones and jaw.
After what seemed to be an eternity, Tabitha reached her betrothed. “You look beautiful,” His Grace murmured.
Tabitha smiled and clasped her hands before her. “Thank you,” she said.
The priest began to speak, going through the ceremony. Tabitha kept her gaze on the Duke of Hillsburgh. Once this ceremony was finished, he would be her husband, and she would be his wife. It sounded unreal to her. She would really be a wife and a duchess.
Tabitha felt like she was sinking beneath an onslaught of water, as if she had leapt into a lake with a great stone tied around her neck and was slowly submerging. The pressure of the water closed around her on all sides, and she was too aware of her own breathing and how quickly she panted.
He said his vows, and Tabitha watched him, searching his face for any sign that he regretted this decision or was as anxious to marry her as she was him. At last, he concluded, “I do.”
He had agreed that they were to be wed. Now, it was all left to her. When it was her turn, she said her vows. Then, there were the softly spoken words. “You may kiss the bride.”
