Until it came to the intimacy aspect of their union.
He was correct that they needed to consummate their marriage so there was no question of the validity of their union, but the prospect of lying with him made her uneasy. Not because of maidenly apprehension, obviously. Or because she had already given her heart to David. It was something much more alarming. She was afraid she might actually find herself enjoying the act and proving her husband correct, that she’d never truly experienced real pleasure before. It wasn’t as though she were against doing so, but she feared she would find herself in the precarious position of falling in love with her husband if she fell prey to his prowess in the bedchamber. Thus, her happinesswould prove that Mrs. Dove-Lyon was the matchmaking goddess whom everyone believed her to be.
That was not an idea that settled well at all. While she should do her best to engage in a harmonious marriage, she did not want to admit that the Black Widow was right and she had chosen well. Her pride would not allow it.
As the carriage slowed and passed between two columns and began to head up a narrow drive, she craned her neck, eager to gain the first glimpse of her new home and dreading the monstrosity to which she would undoubtedly be subjected upon their arrival. The baron had mentioned that it was in a sad state of disrepair and that most of the funds he’d gained from her dowry would go to fix the damage through the years, so she was expecting a caving roof and an overgrown garden that looked like something could easily swallow her up and drag her to the underworld to live with Hades for all eternity.
Instead, when they rounded a bend in the road, she had to gasp at the lovely sight that presented itself.
Bright, whitewashed limestone sprawled out before her like an inviting canvas that had come to life. The diamond-paned glass windows sparkled with brilliance and the massive oak door of the entrance enticed her to walk through and explore the labyrinth beyond.
“I know it’s not much to look at now—”
Catherine turned her head to stare at the baron. who was watching her intently. “It’s miraculous!” she interrupted breathlessly. “You led me to believe it was falling down around your ears.”
He clenched his jaw. “You haven’t seen the inside yet.”
Catherine couldn’t imagine it being anything less than just as spectacular as the exterior. She noticed that there were ivy vines climbing up one side, but it just added to the overall character of the manor. It certainly didn’t make her want to run screaming in the opposite direction, or lament that this lovely place would be her new home.
She hesitated.Home.It truly struck her that she would no longer be living under her father’s heavy thumb any longer. She glanced at the baron, but something told her he wasn’t cut from the same cloth as that of the Duke of Lancaster. Thus far, he had acted with all the composure of a gentleman, regardless if he claimed the contrary.
The oak door opened when the carriage came to a halt and a sour-faced man in black-and-silver livery came outside to stand on the front steps. Following him was a woman with a jangle of keys at her waist, as well as a tidy bun and an expression that was more curious than severe for most housekeepers. A few other staff followed, footmen and maids, and as they all lined up to greet the master of the house, they looked at her with open interest, but also the respect that was due her elevated station.
“Lord Fontaine. It is good to have you back in residence,” the butler announced.
“Thank you, Bartholomew.” Benjamin waved a hand to indicate Catherine. “This is my wife, Catherine Fontaine, daughter of the Duke of Lancaster, the new Baroness Fontaine. She is to be afforded every courtesy.”
“Of course, my lord.” The butler bowed to her and Catherine inclined her head.
The housekeeper, Mrs. Limewood, curtsied slightly. “It’s an honor to meet you, Lady Fontaine. If you require anything at all, don’t hesitate to call upon me.”
“That is very kind,” Catherine replied evenly.
“I would like a bath sent to my chamber and the same for my wife. We would also like an early dinner.” He paused and glanced at her. “If that is acceptable to you?”
Catherine did not want to make a scene on her initial welcome to her new home and decided that any slight she might have felt toward his highhanded demeanor could pass. “Of course.”
With that, the baron escorted her inside and Catherine gained herfirst true glimpse of Fontaine Hall.
Benjamin wanted toshield his new bride from the grim reality of Fontaine Hall, but there was no avoiding it the moment they stepped over the threshold. It was just as he remembered it the day he’d left with his mother, almost as soon as the funeral for his father had been completed. They’d gathered their things and headed for London and greener pastures, hoping to leave this squalor behind.
He tried to see it with a new perspective, one that might shine a bit of hope, but the dull reality was too much to ignore. Wallpaper was peeling in more than one place and while as clean as able, the furniture was worn and faded, in need of new upholstery. The wood staircase that had once gleamed in the past was now dull and lackluster. Everywhere he looked, it was as if the house were dying. While he couldn’t see the sky through the roof, there were bits where the plaster had fallen from the ceiling. At least the servants had done what they could to make the place appear presentable in the short amount of notice that he’d given them that morning. He wanted to ensure that the rooms were prepared for their stay and that fires had been prepared to ward off the chill in the rooms.
He glanced at Catherine to gauge her reaction and although she tried to pretend it wasn’t as dire as she might have imagined, he could see the disappointment in her eyes as she glanced about her surroundings. However, when she turned to him, she was kind enough to say, “A bit of new furnishings and we shall be ready to entertain.”
He put his hand to his chest and bowed formally. “I leave it in your capable hands. I’m sure you are eager to make this house your own.”
She scrunched up her nose. “I don’t intend to take over withoutyour input. Surely, there is something you’d like—”
He held up his hand. “You can stop right there. I care not a whit regarding a robin’s-egg blue compared to cornflower. As the mistress of this house, I give you leave to decorate this grim interior as you see fit.” He quickly changed the subject before she could delve into his sordid past and find out that he’d rather set a torch to the place instead of offering it a second chance at life because it all reminded him too much of his father. “I shall leave you to get settled and see you at dinner.”
Benjamin normally eschewed the study because it had been his father’s personal haven, but since he knew that was where the liquor used to be easily accessible, he headed in that direction. Moving to the sideboard, he poured himself a generous amount of brandy and tossed it back down his throat with a burning trail. He continued repeating the same action until his senses had dulled enough to look around the room without wanting to rip all the paintings and tapestries from the walls and throw them out onto the front lawn to watch them burn.
Benjamin sat down in the leather chair that had belonged to his predecessor and leaned back to rest his booted feet on the top of the mahogany desk. He could finally feel a smile start to curve his lips because he knew the old man would have an apoplexy if he knew he was defiling his precious haven. He’d loved this room more than he ever had his family. The proof was the bitterness that Benjamin still carried in his heart toward his sire and to most everyone with whom Benjamin had ever came into contact.
Some of his smug revelation subsided when he thought of his stepsister, Beatrice, and how he’d nearly written to her several times, but the fear of rejection and disdain had kept his pen silent. After he’d seduced her best friend, coincidentally ending up at Gretna Green at the same time she’d married her mature Scotsman, he had rejoiced at the look of utter betrayal and anguish on Beatrice’s face when she’d realized Daria had been expecting.
However, his victory had been short-lived because as he’d ridden back to London with his new bride at his side, Daria had said something that still lived with him until this day.“Do you not have a care for anyone’s needs but your own?”
