The Hazards Of Hunting A Duke (20 page)

It wasn’t until she was standing almost directly before him that he shifted his gaze to her.

“Your grace,”

she said, dipping into a curtsy. “Are you unwell?”

“Unwell?” he repeated, surprised. “I am very well, thank you.”

His gaze flicked over her as if she were a villager standing in his way. He really did disdain her, didn’t

he? “I am pleased to hear it, although there must be something that concerns you, sir, for you seem quite cross.”

“I’m cross now, am I?”

Ava forced a smile. “I don’t blame you in the least. It’s not an ideal situation, to be sure.”

“That, madam, is an un derstatement,” he said, and turned his gaze back to the guests.

“Nonetheless, it is my wedding day, your grace, and I would be very honored if you’d sit with me and try

to smile at least now and again.”

Her cheekiness startled him; he jerked his gaze to h er and frowned. “Lady Ava —” “—

Middleton.

”

“I beg your pardon?”

“I am Lady Middleton now.”

The duke blinked. And then, miraculously, he offered the barest hint of a smile. “Indeed you are.”

“It could be far worse, you know,” Ava said with a conspiratorial glance about. “I could be a dreadful bore. I would come to supper and bore you unto tears, and bear you dullard grandchildren.”

Now the duke was smiling. “I must trust your word that you ar e not a bore, mustn’t I?”

“I assure you I am not in the least. What I lack in finesse I always make up in knowing a bit of news about our closest friends.”

Amazingly, the duke actually laughed and offered her his arm. “You must tell me all, Lady Middleton.”

She slipped her hand into the crook of his arm. “For example, did you know that Lady Purnam was once

a favorite of our new king?” she whispered as the duke led her to a table.

He squinted at Lady Purnam across the room. “I daresay I did not,” he a nswered honestly, and turned back to Ava, anxious to hear the tale.

And Ava was so engrossed in the telling of it that she didn’t realize her husband had joined them until the duke looked up and nodded curtly.

“Your grace,” Middleton said, and put his ha nd to Ava’s shoulder and leaned over to ask softly, “Are you quite all right?”

She smiled up at him. “I was just telling his grace about Lady Purnam. She was once a favorite of the king’s.”

He looked at her as if he thought she had lost her mind, but str aightened and exchanged a look with his father.

“A toast!” someone called out. “A toast, a toast!”

“Join me,” Middleton said, and slipped his hand beneath Ava’s elbow and pulled her up.

Lord Harrison was the first to step forward and gain the attention of the small crowd with his crystal flute

of champagne raised high. “If I may, my lord,” he said, bowing theatrically to Middleton’s nod that he

should continue. “I have been told that the secret to a long and happy matrimony is that you should never

go to bed angry with one another —stay up and argue.” The guests burst into laughter, shouting “Hear, hear!”

“What do you know of marriage, Harrison?” Middleton scoffed.

“Absolutely nothing,” Ha rrison said jovially. “The same as you, my lord.” The crowd laughed again, and Harrison lifted his crystal flute in toast. “May your marriage be blessed.” Middleton inclined his head and lifted his flute.

“Fools, the both of you,” Stanhope said, and stepp ed forward, next to Harrison, and put a collegial hand

on his shoulder. “Here, sir, is my best advice. Learn these four magic words and learn them well, and trust me, sir, they will smooth the roughest of roads with your beautiful bride.”

Middleton laughed. “And they are?”

“ ‘You’re quite right, darling,’ ” Stanhope said. Once again, the crowd laughed uproariously, Ava and Middleton among them. But then the duke rose from his seat, and a hush fell over them. Beside her, Ava could feel Middleton’s entire b ody stiffen as the duke turned to them and lifted his glass.

“A toast, if I may?”

“Of course,” Middleton said instantly.

He looked at Ava. “To Lady Middleton,” he said quietly. “May you find joy.”

No one said a word—they scarcely even breathed. But the n Lady Purnam, God bless her, shouted, “ Hear, hear!” and the rest of the crowd followed suit, lifting their glasses and toasting Ava’s joy.

Ava laughed, and glanced up at her husband. He was smiling, but it barely turned the corners of his

mouth, and it certainly did not reach his eyes.

A few more toasts were made to their mutual happiness, and then Harrison stepped forward again, looked around the room, and said, “Now I think the time has come to leave the happy couple to one another’s goo d company.” And with that, he walked forward, threw his arms around Middleton and slapped his back heartily. He let go, grabbed Ava up and kissed her soundly on the cheek.

He looked at Middleton and winked. “Be a good husband, lad,” he said sternly.

“I shall endeavor to do my best,” Middleton said.

The duke was next. He looked at his son and said, “Best wishes for you both.”

Middleton nodded. “Thank you, sir,” Ava said quickly. Middleton extended his hand to his father. The

duke looked at his hand a mom ent, and took it, but shook it and dropped it quickly before walking out of

the room, obviously eager to be on his way.

Lady Purnam wished Middleton well, but as she embraced Ava, she whispered ominously in her ear, “ Have a care in everything you do, gir l, for all of England will be watching.”

“Ah…” Ava stammered, uncertain what to say to that. “Thank you.”

Lucy hugged her, too, but looked at her sternly and said, “Your stepfather will not be happy in the least when he learns that you wouldn’t wait for his arrival.”

Ava smiled and shrugged. There was certainly nothing she could do for it now, thank the saints. She said good-bye to Phoebe last. She took her sister’s hands in hers and smiled.

Phoebe frowned. “I’m alone now. First Mother, then Greer, and n ow you,” she said petulantly. Ava squeezed her hand. “Aren’t you the least bit happy for me?”

“Of course I am!” Phoebe exclaimed, and smiled through the tears that suddenly welled in her eyes. “But

I am very sorry for me.”

Ava laughed and hugged her, and whispered in her ear, “Keep sewing. I don’t know how long it shall be before I am given an allowance of any sort. And I won’t be gone from you for very long, Phoebe, I

promise you that.”

“That’s precisely what Greer said,” Phoebe muttered, and when Ava pulled away from her, she saw the tears glistening in her sister’s eyes. “I shall miss you dreadfully.”

“Not nearly as much as I shall miss you,” Ava promised, tears welling in her eyes, to o.

“Oh there now, such maidenly tears!” Lady Purnam scoffed, and put her hand on Phoebe’s forearm. “

Come along, Lady Phoebe, I should like to arrive in London before nightfall, when murderers and thieves roam the streets.”

Phoebe looked so forlorn that Ava grabbed her and hugged her fiercely once more. “I shan’t stay away long,” she said again, and let her sister go.

She and Middleton followed the guests out, and watched them being loaded into their coaches and carriages. Ava waved to her sister, waitin g until Lady Purnam’s coach —the last to depart—had pulled

out of the drive, leaving her and Middleton the last two standing.

Neither of them spoke until Lady Purnam’s coach had disappeared around a bend. Only then did Ava glance up at Middleton.

He was still squinting down the drive. “It’s just the two of us now,” he said.

Yes, it was just the two of them. Completely and irrevocably. She was struck with the cold reality of what would come next, especially when she looked at Middleton, who smiled thinly.

“It has been quite a morning, madam. I should think you’d like to rest before this evening’s supper.” “But…I am not tired,” she said, her belly tightening with trepidation.

He did not smile, just looked at her stoically. “I think you should rest,” he said again, only more firmly. “I

will see you at supper.” And with that, he turned away from her, told Dawson to have the mare saddled,

and walked into the house, yanking at his neckcloth as he went, leaving her to stand on the drive, utterly alone.

Her face burned with embarrassment, and she hesitantly started after him, making her way to her rooms,

her head swimming around his abrupt dismissal of her, and the fear of what would come.

She sat in her chaise, staring at the floor for what seemed hours, but when she finally stood to change from her wedding gown, she walked to the windows and looked out at the lovely landscape.

And there she saw him, riding away, reckless and full -bore.

A shiver shot through her —that man, who rode so fiercely, so utterly without discretion or even care for himself, would be in her bed tonight.

M iss Hillier appeared in Ava’s suite at seven o’clock to help her dress, but she was already dressed and waiting.

After Middleton’s abrupt departure, she hadn’t known what to do with herself, and to steady her nerves, she’d spent the afternoon going through her things, trying on different gowns Phoebe had made. She

chose soft green brocade for supper, a g own Phoebe had embroidered with tiny little rosebuds that matched the silk rosebuds on the hem of the underskirt. The bodice fit low and tight across her bosom,

which Ava had insisted to Phoebe was too revealing. Phoebe —whose mouth had been full of pins at the time—had rolled her eyes and continued on, undaunted.

Ava allowed Miss Hillier to help her put her hair up. When she’d finished, Miss Hillier stood back and smiled. “Ah, Lady Middleton, you’re very beautiful,” she said appreciatively as she looked at Ava. “It is plain to see why his lordship wanted you as his wife.”

Ava could only hope that he wanted her —she wasn’t certain given his demeanor on the drive, but she smiled at Miss Hillier and donned the garnet earrings that had been her mother’s.

She might have liked to stay holed up there until Middleton came to look for her, but Miss Hillier seemed rather determined that she should join her husband before dinner in the green salon.

A footman was waiting at the door of the salon and opened it as Ava a pproached, bowing his head in deference to her. With a smile, she stepped across the threshold of the salon, but was brought to a halt just there, for the room was majestic.

Huge six-foot paintings of Middleton’s ancestors lined the walls beneath a fif teen-foot ceiling. Gilded

chairs upholstered in red silk were pushed up against the walls —it looked as if there were enough of

them to seat four dozen people. On opposing walls, four mahogany commodes held enormous Oriental porcelain vases and amazing flor al arrangements. The rug at her feet was thick and intricately

embroidered, depicting an English forest complete with animals, wood nymphs, and someone on a horse.

“I have been remiss in inquiring…but I trust you found your suite to your liking?”

His voice startled her—she hadn’t seen Middleton standing to one side of the marble mantel at the

opposite end of the room. “I…yes. Yes, the suite is beautiful. Thank you,” she said, and realized she was trembling again. Her husband —husband!—was wearing black knee breeches that fit him like a glove, a white silk shirt and waistcoat, and black coattails. His neckcloth was simply tied, the small gold pin

holding it in place. His dark hair was brushed back and long over his collar, and his face clean-shaven.

He seemed even more handsome now than he had this morning —and a bit dark.

He casually gestured to a grouping of furniture near the hearth. “I thought we might have a drink before

we dine.”

Ava couldn’t possibly eat a thing, so she walked dutifully across the room. He met her at the grouping of furniture, took her hand, and paused to look at her gown. “How lovely you are,” he said, and slowly

lifted a smoldering gaze to hers as he brought her hand to his lips. “Very lovely indeed.”

The way he looked at her, the quiet, assured way he spoke and held her hand made her feel slightly intoxicated, and she sat heavily on the settee to which he ushered her.

“What would you like?” he asked, motioning toward the sideboard. “A bit of wine, perhaps?” Ava glanced at t he decanters. “I think I would prefer something stout.”

“Port, perhaps?” “Whiskey?”

He smiled. “I don’t believe whiskey is a suitable spirit for a woman’s tender constitution, but by all means, if that is what you would like…”

“Please.” At the moment, it seemed the only thing strong enough to buoy her. Everything felt different—

he felt different somehow. She worried that he regretted their marriage.

At the sideboard, Middleton poured a small tot of whiskey for her, then one for himself, and brought them back, along with the decanter, to the settee where she was sitting.

He put the decanter on the table and handed her a tot, his fingers grazing hers with a certain familiarity.

He sat, draped one arm over the back of the settee, and looked at her, watching her as she smelled the whiskey. Once, when she and Phoebe and Greer were all of sixteen or so, they had stolen a bottle of

Lord Downey’s whiskey and drunk it. It had been years before she could stomach the smell of whiskey again, but today, she needed its calming effects.

“Are you unwell?” Middleton asked.

“Me?” she asked, startled by the question. “No…I am very well. I could not possibly be happier.” The words, which she’d said a thousand times in the last few days, flowed off her tongue so voluntarily that

they were essentially meaningless.

He, on the other hand, looked a bit tense. “Are you unwell?” she asked.

“Perfectly fine.” With his finger, he stroked her arm, looked at her thoughtfully. “Here we are, then, Lady

Middleton. Bonded together in connubial bliss until death us do part.”

“My. When said that way, it sounds rather dire, doesn’t it?” she remarked. “Do you regret it?” “No,” he said immediately. “Do you?”