Chapter 7
Duncan stood in his parlor at his fine townhouse overlooking Hyde Park, watching his new wife as she chatted with his brother. His new wife. God’s teeth, what a concept! And yet just a few hours ago, the vicar had declared the two of them married.
Hannah was a vision, of course. Lovely in the fine yellow gown that draped over her lush curves perfectly. Her maid had spun flowers up into the dark mass of her hair, and the chestnut glory of it was impossible not to look at. He had chosen a comely bride. And he wanted desperately to make her come.
Their guests had begun to depart after a long afternoon of celebration. His brother, her father and her close friends, the Sinclairs, were all who remained. Once they’d gone, he would be alone with her for the first time since they agreed to become man and wife.
His for the taking.
“I know I have said it before, but it bears repeating,” Rowan Sinclair said as he approached Duncan and took a place beside him to look at Hannah and Ian. “Congratulations.”
Duncan shot him a side glance. He and Rowan had known each other in passing over the years. He had always liked the man and felt the same sentiment from him in return. Now…well, now Rowan seemed to hesitate. That was likely because Sinclair was married to Hannah’s best friend.
“Thank you,” Duncan said. “You and I were always in a second sons club, weren’t we? Both escaped now, with our independence intact.”
Sinclair pursed his lips as if that sentiment didn’t sit completely comfortably. “Your elder brother is a different breed than mine are,” he said at last. “You are lucky to have him. And her.”
There it was. Duncan faced the man. “You worry that I do not haveherinterests at heart.”
Sinclair shrugged but didn’t correct his assumption. “Hannah has been through a great deal. I only want to see her happy. And I want to be certain her unhappiness does not cause my own much beloved wife any grief.”
Duncan glanced at Hannah again. She was laughing at something his brother had said. Her face lit up, was so much more relaxed than he had ever seen her before. She was stunning, and he longed to keep that expression on her face for the rest of her life. For the rest of his.
“Hannah and I are making a new path together,” he said, his voice rough as she noticed his regard and blushed. Her gaze darted over him, filled with the same longing in his own heart and body. “I will do everything in my power to make her happy.”
Rowan nodded slowly. “And I hope that will be enough for you both. Now the day grows long and I think I will convince my wife it is time to let the happy couple have some privacy. I hope you will both call on us soon.”
“We shall,” Duncan agreed.
Rowan smiled, then left Duncan to go to where Sophie was standing looking out the window at the garden behind the house. Duncan watched as he lifted a hand to the small of her back, watched the way she turned into him, the intimacy of the way they looked at each other, the way they whispered. Without being lewd, without being inappropriate, the pair revealed their affection, their deep bond. And for a moment, Duncan longed for such a powerful braiding of one heart with another.
He shook his head. That was ridiculous. Only a handful of couples in any generation had that kind of love. He hadn’t been seeking it, neither had Hannah. They would make due with passion and, he hoped, a friendship that would develop over time. But for now…
He pushed away troublesome thoughts and made his own way to his new bride and his brother. Her father had joined them now that the Sinclairs had said their farewells.
“I think it may be time to go,” Ian said. “The happy couple must get on with their lives, it seems.”
Blankenship hardly spared a glance for his daughter. He was focused on Ian. “Indeed. But perhaps you would come join me for a drink at Anders Tavern, my lord. Now that we are family, I’m certain we will become great friends. Perhaps even partners in future endeavors.”
Ian shot Duncan a swift glance. A “you chose this” glance. Hannah turned her face, her cheeks pink with embarrassment. Without thinking, Duncan pressed his hand into the small of her back as he’d watched Rowan do to Sophie earlier. He felt her soften a bit, lean into him as if she would accept his support. In that moment, he felt like the hero of a tale that was only just beginning.
Ian kept the calm smile on his face as he said, “Certainly, sir. Give my driver the address and I shall follow you there.” He turned toward Duncan. “Congratulations again, Duncan.” He leaned forward and bussed Hannah’s cheek. “And welcome to the family, my dear.”
“Thank you,” she said, giving him a look laced with apology. Then she turned her attention on her father. “Good night, Father.”
He grunted out the barest of acknowledgment and nodded toward Duncan before he hustled out the door with Ian at his heels.
At last they were alone, but Hannah seemed distracted as she let out a long sigh. “Your brother was very kind,” she said as she paced away from Duncan and moved to Sophie’s former place at the window. She looked just as pensive. “But how long can that last with my father jumping around him like some untrained puppy? Ian will certainly come to judge me for his bad behavior.”
Duncan shook his head. “If Ian judges anyone, it will be your father. And me, I suppose, as old habits die hard. But never you, Hannah, for you deserve it least in this odd set of circumstances.”
She faced him slowly and looked him up and down. “You don’t think my going to the Donville Masquerade and handing over my virginity to the first stranger I met is worth judgment?”
“To your husband,” he corrected. “And I think it is something I will cherish for the rest of my life.”
Her lips parted, and that offered just too much temptation. He eased closer, sliding a hand around her waist, drawing her up against him until he almost groaned with the feel of her body molded to his.
“I don’t want to talk about this anymore,” he whispered, his voice rough with the desire that burned in his veins. “I don’t want to talk at all.”
