Page 19

Producing an heir would not prove a hardship.

Quite the opposite.

If he were not such a wretch, he imagined he would take a great deal of pleasure in discovering the woman hidden beneath the white muslin and nervous smiles.

But by the gods did she babble. She was far too warm and open for a Duchess, let alone his Duchess.

He was concerned, too, for he could practically see ridiculous romantic ideals swimming in her expressive eyes as she spoke. Arthur would need to speak to Mr Ellis immediately to ensure his wife was aware of the explicit details of their arrangement. This was a marriage of convenience, not a love match, and it occurred to him, with a faint sense of unease, that someone may have neglected to explain the arrangement properly to his new bride.

If they had, the oversight would need to be corrected.

He had not married for companionship. He required a wife who would spread for him long enough to provide an heir, oversee Winworth's household with competence, and otherwise allow him to attend to his duties without unnecessary interruption. Romance would never enter the arrangement.

He had not entertained the notion of either love or courtship since he was 19. That was the first and last time he pursued such passion, and it did not end well. He had no desire to try a second time. That’s not to say he had not indulged in the comforts of a woman since then; he most certainly did, obscenely so, but he paid for each encounter. Something he would no doubt cease now that he had taken a wife.

Arthur held her small, warm hand as she climbed out of the carriage. She looked at him, and he saw the hesitation in her face before holding onto his arm as he guided her into the house. Though she was exuberant, she was clearly unaccustomed to the reality of how his world worked.

What he did know was that every smile softened her face and every enthusiastic observation animated it. Her lips were also remarkably animated, and despite himself, he found his attention following them as she spoke. It was most irritating.

They reached the threshold of Winworth House, and she was now looking to him for what was next.

Yes. She had no clue how his world worked. He sighed inwardly as he stopped beside her; he never fancied himself a teacher.

"There will be introductions to the senior household staff," he said curtly. "Afterwards, they will escort you to your chambers and assist you in preparing for this evening."

Following her bewildered stare, he found himself explaining.

"The ball."

Eliza turned towards him and instead of looking alarmed, she smiled sympathetically.

"I'm sure it will all be wonderful."

She had misinterpreted his near disgust at the thought of hosting a ball for an almost nervousness around the evening’s success. When in reality, having his home, his sanctuary, Winworth, plagued with guests was what pained him beyond measure. Before he could respond, she gently rested her head against his arm for the briefest of moments.

A simple gesture of gratitude for his guidance.

Arthur stilled.

Nobody had touched him with such intimate familiarity in years.

He looked down at the dark curls brushing against his sleeve before moving them forward. They stepped through the threshold into the cavernous entrance hall of Winworth.

Cool checkered marble stretched beneath their feet, while a magnificent staircase swept upwards before dividing gracefully to the left and right on a broad landing above. Tall columns framed the space, and tiny glimpses of sunlight battled through the curtains cloaking towering windows.

Waiting for them stood twelve members of staff, arranged in three neat rows of four.

At their head stood a middle-aged woman, comfortably rounded in figure, her dark hair streaked with silver and pinned into a neat bun. Dressed entirely in black, she stood with her hands clasped behind her back.

She bowed.

"Your Graces."

"Duchess of Buckingham," Arthur said defiantly, recalling the nickname conversation in the carriage they had just held. If his wife intended to abandon formality so quickly, she would discover he had no such intention.

"May I introduce Mrs Clapton, Winworth's lead housekeeper." Arthur continued.

"It is a pleasure to welcome you to Winworth, Your Grace." Mrs Clapton said as she dipped into another curtsey.