Lucian had planned this ball tonight to keep up appearances. As far as thetonknew, Lady Gemma had been his choice of bride—minus the slight hint of scandal involved in their match — and he intended to keep it that way. The only person who would know he was angry with her, unhappy about being forced into the match, was hiswife.
After the wedding this morning, Gemma had been bundled off in a coach with her mother. Later this afternoon, both women had arrived at his town house. He hadn’t bothered to greet them. The servants had brought Gemma’s trunks to the bedchamber that adjoined his. Where else would the new duchess sleep, after all? Lucian had called for the housekeeper and promptly informed Mrs. Howard that Gemma’s things were not to beunpacked. Mrs. Howard’s brow shot up, but she’d nodded and done as she was told.
Lucian had a plan. After several days of obligatory revelry to celebrate their nuptials, he intended to send his new duchess and all of her belongings to one of his most remote estates. Cumberland, perhaps. He smiled to himself.
Gemma might have successfully garnered herself the title of duchess, buthewould see to it that she enjoyed none of the other advantages that came with the position.
Oh, he would visit her upon occasion, out of obligation, but those visits would be few and infrequent. No more than he regularly visited his distant estates. Once a year. Twice, perhaps.Someday, he would have to get her with child, he supposed. But not tonight. Or anytime soon. Something told him a baby would only please her, and he had no intention of pleasing the woman who’d forced him into marriage.
His new wife may have had the upper hand in ensuring their union, but it would be the last time she had the upper hand. Lucian intended to show her, clearly and unmistakably, that from now on,hewas in command of their marriage. She would do as she was told.
He’d been careful these last weeks, calculated. He’d ensured that he hadn’t seen her much. He certainly hadn’t spoken more than a few words to her. That had been intentional. He’d wanted her to wonder how it would be. While she’d no doubt been having visions of marriage to a handsome duke and becoming the toast of Society, he’d been entertaining visions of living his life as if he hadn’t even married. And that’s precisely how he intended life to be with his new wife. Completely unchanged.
Southbury and his duchess came off the dance floor, and Lucian watched from the table where he sat as Lord Pembroke approached Gemma, bowed, and then obviously invited her todance. The next thing Lucian knew, Gemma whirled away in Pembroke’s arms. Lucian narrowed his eyes on the young earl.
“Shouldn’t you retire soon, Your Grace?” came Southbury’s voice from beside him, shaking him from his thoughts.
Lucian turned and gave his old friend a tight smile. “I suppose so.” He lifted the glass and swirled the wine inside as he watched his wife dancing in the arms of another man. She still looked happy. It was time to wipe that smile off her face. Whispers had begun. He was being watched. It was his wedding night, and he had an obligation to take his new wife upstairs. Upstairs, but not to bed.
Setting his half-full wine glass upon the table, Lucian stood and smoothed a hand over his white satin waistcoat. “Good evening,” he said, inclining his head to the Duke and Duchess of Southbury.
The two nodded back, but Lucian was already stalking toward the dance floor. Pembroke was a good-looking, young upstart who’d recently inherited his father’s earldom. The latest rumors had him as the next most eligible bachelor looking for a wife. The man was wide of the mark dancing with Lucian’s wife. What did he want with a gangly married lady?
Lucian came to a stop a few paces behind Pembroke on the dance floor and waited until the earl had nearly backed into him before he lifted a hand and poked the younger man sharply on the shoulder with one finger.
Pembroke immediately stopped and whirled around to see Lucian glaring at him with a narrow-eyed stare.
Lucian gave the earl a fake, tight smile.
“Good evening, Your Grace,” Pembroke said in an overly enthusiastic voice. “I do hope you haven’t come to fetch your wife. I amsoenjoying our dance.”
“Then I’m here to dash your hopes because that’s precisely why I’m here. To fetchmy wife,” Lucian replied through a tightjaw. He glanced at Gemma to see her already large eyes go even wider. She was looking at him as if she was frightened of him. Fuck. That’s all Lucian needed. To have the rumor start that he’d scared his new bride half to death by escorting her upstairs on their wedding night. He needed to do something to calm her fears.
“Care to dance?” he asked, directing his question to Gemma and completely ignoring her erstwhile dance partner.
“Y…yes,” Gemma stuttered.
Lucian fought the urge to roll his eyes. She didn’t just look scared of him; she sounded frightened too. Very well. He would have to spend a few unpleasant moments pretending to be the delighted bridegroom. He’d had plenty of practice pretending in life. This would be no different.
“I’ll just leave you—” Pembroke said, but Lucian didn’t wait to hear more. Instead, he stepped forward to take Gemma into his arms.
At first, she was wooden. One gloved hand on his shoulder, the other captured in his, and both felt as if they’d been cast in iron. But soon, after they’d spun around the floor a few times, her hands relaxed and she dared a glance up at him.
“Having fun?” he forced himself to ask with an equally forced smile on his lips.
“Ye…yes,” she gulped. It was clear from the tremor in her voice that she was having no such thing.
“After this dance, we should retire,” he said, ensuring his voice was neither eager nor angry. Indifference was the key. Always indifference. Show no emotion. Ever. His father had taught him well.
“Very well,” she replied, but her voice cracked on the last word, and she swallowed audibly. Dear God. What did the girl think he was going to do to her? Pounce on her on the staircase? Surely, her mother had properly prepared her for the weddingnight. Not that he intended to give her a traditional wedding night, but he realizedshedidn’t know that. All the more vexing that he hadn’t been able to choose his bride himself. If he had, he would have chosen someone beautiful, someone hewantedto make love to tonight. Someone he would have spent the last weeks flirting with and getting to know so that the culmination of this evening would be welcome to her, instead of anxiety-provoking.
Though it served her right to be filled with anxiety. She deserved no less. Still, she was young, and he didn’t relish torturing anyone, least of all a young, innocent female. The moment the music stopped, he took her hand and guided her toward the staircase that led up and out of the ballroom.
Once they were standing in front of the double-doors, Lucian turned to say good night to his guests. He could feel Gemma perched at his side. He could only hope she didn’t look as frightened as she’d sounded a few moments ago.
The ballroom clapped for them as he bowed, and she curtsied. Then they took their leave together. Normally, his mother would be here to handle the guests. Instead, Gemma’s mother, the dowager, had stepped in to handle things this evening. If she were alive, Mama would be a dowager tonight too, now that he’d married. The thought saddened him. Was it better that Mama hadn’t lived to see him marry a woman he hadn’t chosen himself? Oh, what did it matter? It was done now. He was married to this lanky, scheming girl. For betterandfor worse.
Silently, he escorted her into the corridor and through the house to the foyer, where they ascended the main staircase to the second floor where the bedchambers were. As they walked, her gloved hand hovered at his arm but barely rested there. Her weight was not upon it, as if she were hesitant to touch him.
