Page 9 of A Gentleman Never Surrenders
Owen took a strange pleasure in lifting Milly down from the carriage. Her cheeks were still a pretty pink, like alabaster touched with rose. He had enjoyed silencing her with a kiss and relished her startled response. And she had responded, quite well. His shrewish wife had a soft, sensual side that, he had to admit, fascinated him.
The previous evening he had listened to her converse with the other guests during a dinner party prior to the wedding day and found she had a sharp mind. There was more to her than he’d expected. Most daughters of the peerage went away for school and came back educated, but they often reminded him of the parrots he’d seen while fighting in the war in Africa. They could repeat fancy phrases that had been told to them but had no original thoughts.
That wasn’t the case with Milly. She had opinions, well-formed ones, and he rather liked knowing that his wife wouldn’t be some foolish creature obsessed with gossip and the latest Parisian fashions. Not that Milly didn’t look exceedingly fine and had excellent taste in clothes. He’d be the first to admit she was stunning. When she’d entered the church that morning, he’d forgotten to breathe, and only when she’d gotten closer to him, he’d realized his lungs were burning and he’d sucked in a breath. He wanted to laugh at himself, and at this entire situation. He’d ended up with the most beautiful wife a man could hope for, one with a quick wit and intelligence and lips made for kissing, and yet she despised him. That bothered him more than it should have; even though he was seeking a bride for monetary gain, he had hoped whoever he ended up marrying would in fact enjoy being with him, both in bed and out.
Owen glanced at her as their carriage rolled up in front of Pepperwirth Vale. Her cheeks were still flushed from their kiss, even though it had been a quarter of an hour since they’d left the church. Yes, she despised him, but when they’d been locked in that embrace, he’d tasted her passion, her longing, her desire. The question was, could he turn that into something more?
I bloody well hope so…
When he set her down on the gravel drive just a few feet from the door, a row of servants watched them placidly as they waited to assist. Two upstairs maids rushed over to catch the expensive silk train of the gown and carry it inside behind Milly as she walked.
She looked brilliant, parading regally through the door of her ancestral home, her chin in the air. Her beautiful chestnut hair was caught in a loose coiling of curls and knots, with diamond star hairpins holding the folded veil in place. When she paused at the bottom stair of the main staircase, one elegant gloved hand on the rail, her figure with perfect curves, meant for a man’s hands, was presented in a queenly pose. Again, Owen had to remind himself to breathe. She was a picture of radiance and she was his.
“I’m sure, Mr. Aslet, our butler, has a room prepared for you to change into your traveling clothes.”
“Er…yes, thank you,” he mumbled, still a little distracted as he watched his bride ascend the stairs. The way the light slanted in from the windows on either side made her dress and the large bow above her delectable bottom seem to glow with a heavily light, which only tempted him more.
“Mr. Hadley, I’ll show you to your room, if you’re ready.” Mr. Aslet was a tall, thin man, his body all sharp angles and precision.
Owen nodded and followed Aslet up the stairs and down a hall in the opposite direction Milly had gone.
His travel trunk was sitting on the bed, the items for his upcoming journey laid out. Trousers, a coat, and boots. He’d sent his valet Evans and Milly’s maid, Constance, ahead to Wesden Heath, where he and Milly would meet with the servants on the morrow. Milly had assured him that she could make do one night without a maid. Owen doubted that, but he thought it would be amusing to see her try. He stripped out of his morning clothes and tucked them into his trunk and then dressed in his travel clothes before he came back down the stairs. Two footmen were bringing trays into the dining room. He started toward the room, but before he could reach it, Rowena and Milly’s parents came in through the entrance.
“Ahh, Mr. Hadley, if you don’t mind, could we have a word in my study?” Lord Pepperwirth waved a hand to show the way.
“Of course.” He followed Milly’s father, reluctant to know what the man had to say. Lord Pepperwirth had done a fine job raking him over the coals the morning following his discovery in Milly’s bedchamber. But after the harsh dressing down for his behavior, the man had seemed a little amused that he’d finally arranged a match for Milly.
When they entered Lord Pepperwirth’s study, he beckoned for Owen to sit in one of the plush leather chairs facing the large Chippendale desk. Lord Pepperwirth sat down and stroked one hand over his dark beard that was streaked with silver.
“Milly is…difficult sometimes,” he began.
Owen held his breath for a second, wondering where this conversation was going to lead.
“But she’s incredibly bright, like her mother. She’s the sort of woman that if given half the chance, can be an asset to a man’s life, not a hindrance.” His blue eyes, so much like his two daughters’, pinned Owen to his chair.
“I consented to this ludicrous wedding because my wife insisted it was the only way to save Milly’s reputation. I know it may be in a man’s interest to have a mistress, but any man who marries my daughter will not. Do you understand? She deserves happiness. If you wish to have an amicable relationship with me and anyone of my acquaintance, you will see that she is happy.” Lord Pepperwirth waited for a reply, his arms folded across his chest.
Owen chose his words carefully. “She may not be who I would have chosen, but I will honor our vows and do everything in my power to make her happy.” He had no plans of straying from his marriage bed and he wanted to make damned sure she didn’t either by convincing her that being his wife and his lover would be intensely enjoyable. He valued the sanctity of marriage, even if he was a scoundrel in the eyes of polite society.
He meant it. If a marriage was to work, they both needed to be happy. And the challenge of seducing a fiery, temperamental woman who had a secret sensual side was fascinating.
“Good. Now”—Lord Pepperwirth stood and Owen rose as well—“Milly will have access to her dowry, as will you. I suggest you let her have charge of her finances as she needs them. My daughter spends wisely, and I desire her to have her freedom monetarily speaking, if she needs it.”
Owen nodded. “That is fine, so long as she is amenable to helping me use a portion of it to help my estate.”
Lord Pepperwirth walked halfway around his desk and then paused. “That’s why you needed to marry, eh? My wife suspected money was a motive, but she guessed you had some vices to contend with. I don’t approve if that’s the course, but a man’s land…that’s another matter entirely.”
There was no reason he had to tell Milly’s father anything, but the man was owed a little bit of an explanation.
“Wesden Heath has been in my family for two hundred years. After my father passed while I was in South Africa for the war, it fell to my mother, and she couldn’t keep up with it, not with her weak heart. She died a month before I came home. I want it to be a livable place again, a home for both Milly and me.” Owen tugged at his jacket’s sleeves, trying to look preoccupied should Pepperwirth have a negative response, but he didn’t.
“Sounds like an honorable purpose, Mr. Hadley. Milly might be more useful to you than you know.”
Such a vague promise from the older man! Owen raised his brows, hoping Pepperwirth would expand on his comment, but he was disappointed.
“Well, it’s time we join the others. I’m famished after that ceremony.”
Owen followed Milly’s father out of the study and back into the dining room, where the ladies and a few close friends and family had gathered. Ivy and Leo separated themselves from the other guests and came over.
