Page 99 of Marry in Scarlet
He’d understood, he’d actually understood what she’d been trying to say. And he’d given society the clear message that he would support her, even honor her.
She’d given him every chance to reject her and he hadn’t. Instead, he’d made a push to understand her. How rare was that? It was as if the duke saw who she really was—not simply Aunt Agatha’s conveniently unmarried great-niece, an earl’s daughter, but George, plain and simple, with all her many faults. And accepted her.
Married her.
The carriage turned a corner and for the first time George noticed where they were. “Where are we going?”
“To my house.”
“But what about the wedding breakfast?” It was to be held at Ashendon House. The servants and Emm had been working for days to arrange it all.
“We have time,” he said tranquilly.
Time for what? she wondered. Was this what he meant by “later”? But she wasn’t game to ask; it seemed she’d used up all her boldness for the moment. And the duke had—apparently—taken it all in stride.
Butterflies danced in her stomach. Was he taking her inside to consummate the marriage? To make sure of her? Now? In the daylight? Before the wedding breakfast?
Her palms were damp.
The carriage pulled up outside Everingham House and the front door opened. The duke ushered her inside. The hallway was filled with people: his servants, she realized, waiting to congratulate the happy couple. George’s next few minutes were filled with a confusing series of introductions and congratulations. She would never remember all of them, but their warmth and welcome were unmistakable.
She felt a sudden prickling of tears. She hadn’t expected this at all.
The duke held up his hand and there was instant silence. “My duchess and I thank you for your warm wishes,” hesaid. “Will you join us in a toast? Champagne for everyone, Fleming.” And with no delay at all, champagne corks popped and fizzing glasses were passed around—even to the young girl who George thought was the scullery maid. The butler, Fleming, made a short speech and then proposed a toast to the happy couple. Everyone drank, then, as if at a prearranged signal, the entire staff melted away, and George and the duke were left alone.
“I hope you don’t mind,” he said. “I’ve given the servants the night off. More private that way.”
The butterflies returned to her stomach. “Not at all,” she managed.
He held out his hand. “Shall we go upstairs?”
George swallowed. He really was going to do it, consummate the marriage—now. They’d be late to the wedding breakfast and everyone would know what they’d been doing. But they were married; she had no option but to go with him.
He led her upstairs, to a room that was obviously his bedchamber. The faint scent of his cologne hung in the air. The furniture was heavy and dark. In the center of the room sat a huge carved wooden bed, hung with rich dark red fabric. It would take place there, then.
“Take a seat and wait here,” he said. “Don’t look so worried, I won’t be long.” He went through into a small room off his bedchamber.
Take a seat? There was no seat, only the enormous bed. She waited. What was he doing? Getting undressed? Should she get undressed too?
After a while—it felt like an age to George but the clock on the mantel said only five minutes had passed—the duke returned—fully dressed—with a flat box in his hand. He handed it to her. It was covered with faded velvet.
Cautiously she opened it. And stared.
“My grandmother’s rubies. A little old-fashioned, perhaps—”
“No, they’re beautiful.”
“I thought they might suit you. She too was noted for her restrained elegance.”
Restrained elegance? Was that how he saw her? The compliment warmed her. George didn’t feel either restrained or elegant, but perhaps she could aspire to that—in her dress, at least.
The jewels glowed even in the dim light of the bedchamber. The rubies were large, and the setting was finely wrought gold, but the necklace itself gave the impression of delicacy. It really was lovely. And very expensive.
“I had them cleaned last week. There’s a ring, a bracelet, a brooch, earrings and a tiara, but you won’t need the tiara yet.” The necklace glittered in his long strong fingers as he lifted it out of the box and held it up against the light, and then next to her dress. “Yes, the exact right shade. I thought it might be. Turn around.”
He turned her away from him. She could see their reflection in the long cheval mirror. She looked pale and nervous; he looked dark and severely handsome as he bent his head, frowning over the catch of the necklace. Her husband...
She took several deep breaths and tried to will some color into her cheeks.
