In the lofty, black and white marble-tiled hall, they were greeted by the Shewsbury butler, Grove, who Nellie considered far less starchy than most. He ushered them upstairs and into a drawing room of breathtaking grandeur. Paintings and mirrors decorated the eggshell-blue walls, with chairs and sofas of gold damask. Swaths of the same gold fabric hung at the windows. High above them, the magnificent, coffered ceiling was painted with figures in gilt frames.
Charles and his brother rose from a matched pair of blue chairs near the Adams fireplace. Jason’s wife, a petite brunette, smiled at them from the sofa.
In this sumptuous setting, it struck Nellie that Charles looked very much at ease and somehow unattainable. As he walked the length of the carpet to welcome them, his gaze caught and held Nellie’s. She brought their kiss to mind, hugging it to her for reassurance, but then recalled Drusilla’s malevolent presence. Nellie’s face heated, and she ducked Charles’s gaze as the worry hit her full force. Would he be unfaithful like her brother? He would only have to reach out his hand, and any number of women besides Drusilla would eagerly take it.
“We need to talk,” he murmured as he escorted them over to Lord Jason and his wife.
Startled, Nellie tensed and glanced at him.
Charles’s brother greeted her with a warm smile. He was a younger, lankier version of Charles, his coloring similar. She knew there was seven years difference between them. His wife, Lady Beverly, had a sweet face and beautiful brown eyes.
“I’m delighted to meet you,” Nellie said. “Charles has told me so much about you both.”
“Not all good concerning me, I fear,” Lord Jason said with a rueful laugh. He took her hand, leaned forward, and kissed her cheek. “And it’s Jason and Beverly, we stand on no ceremony here.”
“Nellie, please.” She smiled. “When we have a moment alone, Beverly, you must tell me who made that lovely lace gown.”
Beverly placed a hand on the blue bodice. “It is pretty, isn’t it? We shall have a nice coze when the men are drinking their port.”
Jason’s mouth quirked in a smile. “Men believe their time spent alone after dinner is to their advantage. But I believe it is an opportunity for the ladies to discuss intriguing matters they deem unfit for our ears.”
They all laughed.
After they were seated and served wine, the conversation turned to the war and the hope that good news would soon reach them.
“Wellington has it well in hand,” her father said. “I predict the end of war between England and France within the month.”
Jason disagreed and offered him a wager.
Charles frowned at his brother. “I believe you may be close to the mark, Dountry.” He turned to Nellie. “I should like to show you the house before dinner. Would you care to come, Lady Dountry?”
Nellie’s mother began to rise, but her father stayed her with a hand on her arm and a subtle shake of his head. She subsided back into her chair.
“Forgive us, but this is soon to be Nellie’s home. I feel she should familiarize herself with it.” Charles escorted her from the room.
Stunned into silence, Nellie accompanied him upstairs. Surely it was bad manners to desert his guests, and it seemed most unlike him.
He threw open a pair of doors and led her inside. “The duchess’s apartment.”
Nellie’s gaze went straight to the wide bed draped in deep red brocade. Her face hot, she was very much aware of Charles’s proximity. Would he sleep with her there or just visit her? She found she didn’t want to spend her nights alone.
“If the furnishings are not to your liking, you must change them,” he said, breaking into her thoughts.
While certainly luxurious, the décor was too heavy for her taste, the walls papered in a magenta and gold silk, the windows draped with the dark red brocade. “It’s beautiful, but I would prefer something lighter, floral, perhaps.”
“Flowers?” He cocked an eyebrow, looking amused. “You expect me to sleep in a room filled with flowers?”
Pleased that he would sleep with her, she laughed. “I shall bear that in mind when choosing wallpaper.”
Charles took her elbow and led her across the soft carpet. He gestured to a gilt and white paneled door. “Your boudoir.”
He opened another door. The room beyond was both elegant and comfortable. A handsome mahogany desk and chair were placed near the window. “This is your sitting room.” He gestured. “That door leads to my bedchamber, and beyond is my valet’s room.”
“I shall enjoy writing at that desk.” She crossed the carpet to admire the fine piece of furniture. “Oh, there is a charming view of the garden.”
“Nellie.” He came to take her hands, clasping them in his big warm ones. “When you walked in earlier, I thought you seemed upset. Is it something to do with the wedding? I know it seems a little rushed. Becoming a duchess might be a little daunting, but you are the daughter of a marquess. You were brought up to make a marriage such as this.” His intense eyes searched hers. “If there’s something else, will you tell me about it?”
Drusilla seemed to stand between them, almost like a physical presence. Nellie had a moment of panic. “Eliza and Nathaniel have had a dreadful argument. She has left him and returned to the country with their daughter.” She could not bring herself to talk to him about Nat’s unfaithfulness. And nothing about her other concerns.
