Olivia’s tongue darted out to moisten her suddenly dry lips as she struggled to reconcile this calm, rational discussion with the heated implications behind his words. “And what would earn such ... correction?”
“Dishonesty. Willful disobedience. Public behavior that reflects poorly on either of us.” Victor leaned forward slightly. “I don’t expect perfection, Olivia. Merely a sincere effort and acceptance of consequences when you fall short.”
She considered his words, surprised by the fairness underlying his demands. He wasn’t asking for blind submission to arbitrary whims.
“Fourth,” he added, his voice dropping lower, “you will remain faithful to me, as I will to you. You belong entirely to me now, Olivia. Your body, your pleasure, your submission—all mine. I do not share what is mine.”
The possessive declaration sent liquid heat coursing through her veins. After her artist lover’s betrayal, the promise of fidelity, even couched in terms of ownership, offered a strange comfort.
“And what do I receive in this arrangement?” she pressed. “Besides your promised protection and pleasure?”
Approval flickered in Victor’s eyes. “I have already given you my name and protection, Olivia. But if there is more you seek, you receive my undivided attention and dedication to your satisfaction. You receive the freedom to surrender control in private, while being a leading lady in our society as a duchess.”
He paused, studying her. “And you receive the knowledge that, no matter what society whispers about your past, here with me you are valued precisely as you are. Mine.”
The words struck an unexpected chord within her. All her life, Olivia had chafed against societal constraints, always feeling judged and found wanting. The prospect of being truly accepted, even behind closed doors, was more seductive than she cared to admit.
“I agree to your rules, Victor,” she said, the words emerging steadily despite the rapid beat of her heart. Surrendering control to someone stronger felt like relief rather than restriction. After years of choices that led to scandal and disappointment, the prospect of having decisions made by someone who truly seemed to care for her welfare was unexpectedly comforting. “I will be honest, obedient in private, dignified in public, and accepting of corrections when necessary.”
Victor rose from his chair, circling the desk until he stood before her. Slowly, deliberately, he lifted her chin with one finger.
“Good girl,” he murmured, the praise sending an unexpected wave of warmth through her body. “Very well.”
She turned to leave, but his voice stopped her.
“We have guests joining us for supper tonight,” he said casually. “Lord and Lady Atherton. Atherton served with me in Spain.”
The abrupt shift from their intimate pact to mundane social obligations left Olivia momentarily disoriented. “I’ll prepare accordingly,” she managed.
“Wear the blue silk that will arrive from the modiste today,” Victor instructed, moving toward the door. “It complements your eyes.”
With that, she retreated. She should be upset that she was allowing the man to select her gown. He’d even ordered it for her without her knowledge. But a part of her adored the attention. Attention she’d never had in a household with so many siblings.
Olivia spent the afternoon in a constant state of anticipation, her mind constantly returning to what the night would hold. Her first dinner guests as duchess, and another night with her husband.
The hours seemed to crawl by until finally, it was time to prepare for dinner. Martha helped her into the blue silk gown Victor had specified, arranging her hair with pearl pins.
“You look beautiful, Your Grace,” Martha said, stepping back to admire her work.
Olivia studied her reflection, noting the heightened color in her cheeks and the unusual brightness in her eyes. “Thank you, Martha. That will be all for now.”
When she descended the stairs, Victor was waiting in the foyer. His eyes darkened appreciatively as they traveled over her figure.
“You followed my instruction,” he observed, offering his arm. “The blue does indeed complement your eyes.”
A pleased smile tugged at the corners of her mouth at his approval. “Thank you, Victor.”
The sound of carriage wheels announced their guests’ arrival, breaking the intimate moment between them.
“Remember,” Victor murmured before the butler opened the door, “dignity and grace.”
Dinner proved a more complex battlefield than Olivia had anticipated. Lady Atherton, Caroline, was a willowy blonde with a sharp mind and sharper tongue, clearly curious about the duke’s hasty marriage. The woman was at least ten years older than Olivia. Olivia felt out of place and young compared to their guests.
“Such a whirlwind romance,” Caroline remarked as they settled at the table, her smile not quite reaching her eyes. “The society matrons were quite taken aback. The duke has been so ... selective since his return from the war.”
“Sometimes certainty doesn’t require time,” Olivia replied evenly, feeling Victor’s attention from the head of the table.
Lord Atherton, a broad-shouldered man with a prominent facial scar, chuckled. “Blackwood always could assess a situation faster than the rest of us. Saved my hide at Salamanca because of it.”
