Turning on her heel, she tempered her steps, trying not to run like a mouse under the gaze of a hungry tiger, got to her door and slipped inside. Her heart was pounding a primal beat under her breastbone and all she could do was to sink onto the waiting bed before she collapsed.
What has she been thinking?
How did I think the night would have gone?
Utterly mortified, she reached for a pillow and sunk her face into it. Would Cedric hold this over her head forever? How would she get over this shame?
It was best that she get some sleep and forget this whole night had happened. Reaching for her pillow, she punched it into shape and resting her head on it, tried to fall into sleep.
Two hours and despite the serene ambiance, Ariadne found sleep still did not come. Her mind filled with scattered thoughts and restless yearnings as she slipped from the bed and opened her window to gaze at the full moon.
The day had been laden with too many emotions, and now they all swirled through her brain in a frenzy.
Grief, worry, anxiety, passion, shame.
And now, his kiss.
As if a veil had been peeled off, she realized what kissing truly was and how such contact with a man’s lips affected her inside. Her lips still tingled with the memory of his lips on hers.
For a crazy moment during that earth-shattering kiss, the idea of allowing him to consummate the marriage had not appalled her; that in fact, it had briefly thrilled her, it sent her mind into turmoil.
No, she couldn’t be feeling this way. She had suppressed and conquered these urges. She was not a lightskirt or a harlot. No true lady had these feelings. Attraction and dare she say… desire, were the emotions of a lady of the night.
A proper lady managed her house and bore her husband his heir; at least that was what her parent’s relationship had shown her.
Back to bed, she flopped on her back, she sighed. “What if I am wrong? Who can I talk to someone about this without it being… strange?”
Chapter Thirteen
Rising from her turbulent sleep, Ariadne woke in the hazy pink light of pre-dawn.
Duchess of Holloway.
The title felt so foreign in her mind that she knew it would feel strange on her tongue.
Slipping from the bed, she entered her washroom and did a quick ablution, went back to her room, and donned a plain, blue-green day dress that her mother said matched her eyes perfectly and fixed her hair.
A knock on the door had her pausing with brush in hand, and frowning. Opening it, she found the housekeeper and a bright-eyed, brown-haired, young woman there, who instantly curtsied.
“Your Grace,” Mrs. Tully curtsied. “I would like to present Molly Banks, she will be your lady’s maid.”
“Oh,” Ariadne blinked, “Oh…erm… thank you.”
“Good morning, Your Grace,” Molly said, “I’d come to help you for the day, but I see you already dressed.”
“I’m used to being self-sufficient,” she said almost apologetically, while not having the heart to correct her on the title, “But thank you.”
“What would you like to do this morning, Your Grace?” Molly asked.
“I’d like to speak to the housekeeper for an hour,” she said, already settling into the role of the lady of the house.
“I will let Mrs. Tully know, Your Grace,” Molly replied. “Would you like breakfast first?”
“I’ll take the tea and toast,” Ariadne replied. “Something light, and please show me a place where the housekeeper and I can meet.”
“Yes, Madam.” Molly bobbed a curtsey. “This way, please.”
Ariadne’s eyes flickered over the hallways, passed the priceless paintings and exotic furnishings that seemed to be fit for a palace. As much as she could remember the halls of her old home and the gilt it had… she felt as out of place as a tin cup next to a fine Sèvres setting.
