Page 89 of A Deal for the Duke’s Virgin

No, there would be no forgiveness, no sympathy for Thalia. She couldn’t tell her stepmother. She couldn’t risk it. Augusta thought that Jonathan was a different man than he truly was.

“I don’t want to change my mind,” she said.

It was, to some extent, true.

Augusta eyed her for a long moment. “Well, as long as you’re sure. Now, to a more awkward business. I believe we have spoken before about the act between men and women? How married folks produce babies?”

Thalia cleared her throat, trying not to think of Christian’s fingers on her skin, the scratch of his stubble against her thighs.

“Yes, yes. I remember, you needn’t worry.”

Augusta looked a little uncomfortable. “Well, those were the bare facts. When a woman is married, things might be a little less… clinical. There are different things to be concerned about, you see.”

Thalia said nothing, so her stepmother continued.

“Concern is the wrong word,” Augusta muttered, frowning. “To consider. For example, the act might… might not only take place to produce a baby.”

Thalia cleared her throat again. If she wasn’t careful, she’d have a sore throat and a hoarse voice by the time she had to say her vows. “Yes, I know that too.”

“What? How?”

Uh-oh.

“I guessed,” Thalia responded mildly. “And I hear the maids talking, sometimes.”

“Oh, dear. Well, as I said, it can be a very lovely thing. It ought to feel very good, and if a man is telling you otherwise, well, he is simply not very good at it, if you follow my meaning. You must not put up with pain or degradation. You do not owe it to your husband, despite what others say. You have a right to be clear about what you want and do not want. And if your husband ignores your requests or hurts you in any way, you can come to me, and I will keep him away from you. I promise you that.”

Thalia stared at her stepmother, fierce and earnest, and her eyes filled with tears. “Thank you, Augusta,” she whispered, leaning forward and wrapping her arms around her. “Mother. I am lucky to have you.”

Augusta’s arms went around her. “Oh, my love. I wish you all the happiness in the world.”

I wish I could tell her the truth. I wish I could make her understand.

A silly hope. There was no chance of that.

Wiping away her tears before they could make her face red and blotchy, Thalia smiled at her. “I will miss you a great deal, you know.”

Augusta’s face scrunched up. “My darling girl. I will miss you, too, but you’ll live with Laura. Won’t that be nice?”

“Yes, I suppose it will.”

And Christian. He will be there, always, in the back of my mind. A perpetual reminder of the thing I cannot have. I don’t know if I can bear it.

“I’m not unhappy,” Thalia stated firmly. “I feel safe with him. He’s not the heartless rake the world thinks he is.”

That seemed to mollify Augusta a little. “Well, if you’re sure. I will say, he’s a decent man for any woman to marry. You’ll never worry about money or power. There’s security in that at the very least. Once I see you happy with a child, or at least settled, I will be content.”

There won’t be any children, Thalia thought miserably. He’s made that clear. Unless he changes his mind, of course.

There wasn’t much time to worry about what may or may not happen in the future. It was time to go.

The wedding itself passed by in a blur. Thalia remembered pieces of it, framed like portraits. She remembered seeing Sister Abigail and a selection of the nuns, along with a full three rows at the back taken up by the children of St. Sarah’s. Alex waved the hardest at her, and Sophia whispered too loudly. Nicholas, to her amazement, sniffled miserably.

“I will see you soon,” she whispered as she passed by. “I’ll visit you just the same as always. More often, I should say.”

Yes, because I’ll be a duchess, and if I tell the board not to send Sister Ethel and Sister Doris away, they’ll have to listen.

She recalled Christian’s face, smooth and passive, his eyes lingering on her as she approached. His voice was deep and confident when he spoke his vows, hers a little more tentative.