“I know how these things are done.” She does not trouble to disguise her sigh.
I offer my arm but am distracted by my own thoughts. Does she mean to imply that I do not know the way of things? That my common birth makes me unfit to attend such an occasion?
One of the grooms must have alerted our coachman, for our carriage awaits us outside, ready and waiting. I help Her Grace into it myself before ascending the stairs and taking my seat opposite her. Neither of us speak a word as we wait for our journey home to begin.
Duchess Freya
The entire length of the journey back to Fairwynd, I scheme how to put the Princess Amelia’s words into action. How can I win the game we are playing? In truth, before my discussion with the royal ladies, I had not viewed it as such, and I see I have been playing the fool.
We are both wagering something, it would seem. I wish for him to consummate this marriage—no, hemust. Without that…
Even in my own mind, it does not feel safe to contemplate.
And he’s wagering my need is so great that I will give in. Why?His earlier words come back to me.I will set the course for this union between us… straight from the onset.If you do not wish to confess the fullness of your feelings for me…
When I first heard them, I felt shocked, with outrage nipping at its heels. In truth, I am still shocked, for I did not imagine marriage to be so fraught with difficulty.
Why must I be the one to confess my feelings? I shall do so when he is honest about his, which surely must exist if even the royals at the palace take notice!
Even before we arrive, I devise a scheme that, if executed carefully, as Her Highness cautioned, may yet secure my future.
It must. For everything I ever hope to have—both for myself, and my child—depends upon its success.
“Are you finding your health restored, my lady?” the duke asks as soon as we enter our home.
“Yes, my lord, I am feeling myself once more.” I meet his eyes and hold his gaze for but a moment before I lower my eyes to the plush rug. I make a show of studying the intricate scrollwork pattern until the duke grasps my gloved hand.
His touch sends a spark through me that I do my best to conceal.
“I shall like to see you fully recovered, my lady. Might I escort you to your apartment?”
This is the very opportunity I require, and though it is done with great difficulty, I do not allow my delight to show on my face. After all, there is much to be done if I am yet to triumph. “I would find that most agreeable, Your Grace.”
My husband leads me by the arm and leads me through our home and up the long staircase. I hardly take notice of my surroundings, though they are still new to me. The gleaming surfaces, the gilded doorways, the ornate carvings on the walls. Everything fades into a blur, and I feel only my urgency.
It is true need, yes, but there is something more. A thirst I have yet to satisfy—a craving that makes my blood burn inside me. I must force myself to remain calm, though I wish nothing more than to hurry my step. For now that I know what I must do, I am most impatient to satisfy this ache that has gnawed at my insides for far too long.
I turn my head ever so slightly to glimpse my husband, attempting to discern if he suspects anything is afoot. His steady gaze is focused straight ahead, and I am grateful for it, for in assessing his fine cheekbones, his hard jawline, my pulse gallops, and I fear it shows on my face.
I force my gaze away at once, but it is already too late. My confidence is badly shaken. I cannot understand it—why my body seems to yearn for him so. He is certainly not kind to me, and yet, my pulse flutters at his nearness…my ungoverned heart skips, then beats so that it is nearly unbearable.
“My lady.” The duke opens the door and stands back to allow me to enter ahead of him.
For a moment, I hesitate. How can I be certain he will follow?
Get ahold of yourself, Freya! You are of Denham House!When have you ever gotten less than your due? He is your husband… take what is yours.
“Would you care to linger a moment, my lord?” I inquire once I am well inside.
He has just made his bow, but at my words he looks up, swiftly assessing my face. “I would be delighted, my lady.”
The charm in his words ought to warm me, and yet, I am seized by a sudden shiver. He is a most unsettling man indeed.
You shall master him. Do not shirk back now.
Bowing my head lest he see the emotions at war on my face, I stand aside and wait to see if he will enter.
The soft snick of the door gives me my answer, and my heart skips another traitorous beat, threatening to make me lose sight of all that is at stake. Glancing to the corner, I see Kate standing in the shadows—available should I need her, but clearly sensing the weight of this moment.
