One Day my Duke will Come: The Wayward Woodvilles Book 5 Read online

"I have a house on Grosvenor Square and an estate in Somerset, Denver House. We shall reside during the Season in London and travel to Somerset for our break. Both my parents are deceased, and I have one brother who is away at present in Scotland visiting friends with his wife and son."

  "What is your brother's name?" she asked, having not gained that piece of information when they had spoken of him last.

  "Lord Richard Chance. A good and kind sibling. My sister-in-law is Scottish, and they spend a lot of time up north."

  "I look forward to making his acquaintance," she said, wondering if the brothers looked the same or had similar attributes. Millie could not help but wonder what they would think of her and how his brother's marriage came about.

  He nudged her. "See, Millie? We can speak cordially when we put our minds to it," he teased.

  Millie stared at him a moment. "How will we go on in London? Will you continue your bachelorhood lifestyle, or will you be a faithful husband?" she asked, needing to know.

  He tapped his fingers on his knee, thinking over her question. "It is a difficult situation. We're not a love match, and I have commitments in London that have not ended merely because of what happened here." He paused, a thoughtful expression on his face. "If we loved each other, I would not seek comforts outside the marriage bed, but we are not that couple. In truth, we are strangers, and I think it is only right that I may continue with my life as I have been living it before."

  The pit of her stomach clenched, and she swallowed the bile that rose in her throat. However would she survive such humiliation? "So you are telling me you wish to continue with your lover in London, a mistress, I presume, and you shall persist using her until we form an attachment?" she stated for clarification. "Which I should add will never occur since neither of us wanted the marriage to begin with."

  He frowned and hesitated to reply. "You have made it sound very wrong, and you're putting words into my mouth. I never mentioned a mistress."

  "But," she stammered. "I may be a country miss, but I'm far from naïve. You wish to continue to live your life as you were before, which means you wish to have your cake and eat it too." The thought of such a future weighed on her like a dark fog that would never lift. "I will be disgraced if you have a lover."

  He shifted his gaze from her to stare out the window. "I decided some years ago that I would never marry. My saving your reputation will need to be enough for you. That is all I can offer other than friendship, and I'm sorry that may not be enough, but that is all I can give," he said, his words ringing with finality.

  It was not enough, but then she no longer had the choice to decide. She was ruined if she did not marry the duke, even if that meant her life was ruined anyway, even if she did.

  What would become of her?

  "I think we have discussed all that we can," she said, wanting him to leave her alone. She could dwell in her despair much better by herself than with him sitting beside her.

  "I agree. I will see you at our wedding, Miss Woodville," he said, standing to leave.

  Her lip lifted into a snarl, but she could not find a rejoinder to His Grace's words. There was nothing left to say in any case. Nothing at all.

  * * *

  Their wedding two days later was held in the Blackhaven Estate's private church, with a wedding breakfast held at the ducal estate straight after.

  Tatum stood beside Howley and watched as his new bride, his duchess, went about those gathered for the house party and thanked them for their congratulations.

  She was a beautiful woman, today more than any other. Her light-blue muslin gown suited her complexion, darker than her sisters, as if the sun had kissed her skin a little longer than most during their childhood.

  A little out of the ordinary, she had worn her hair mostly down, pretty white flowers threaded through her long locks, accentuating her hair's curls.

  He had always preferred blondes, but something about Millie's long, dark locks drew the eye. Today she looked like a water nymph, visiting from the otherworld to steal men's hearts.

  Tatum shook himself from the fanciful ideas, tearing his gaze away from his duchess, to anything else that was not his wife.

  "Congratulations, my friend. If I know the Woodville chits at all, and I know one very well, I'm certain you will be happy," Howley said, his gaze locked on his wife, who stood across the garden in conversation with guests.

  "You are content that you married then? I did not think I would ever see the day that the gaming hell rakehell, Grady Kolten, married anyone."

  His friend laughed, sipping his wine. "Very true, but the moment I met Ashley, well, the life I lived before paled compared to the one I could have with her. I'm certain you will feel the same."

  "Except my marriage was forced on me because my duchess could not count the rooms correctly and saw me naked as a babe."

  Grady choked on his wine and laughed. "What did she think? I'm assuming her take on that was positive since you married her so quickly."

  "That was her parents’ idea, not mine," he quipped. "But I do not think she thought much of me at all. We have been civil to each other since we agreed on how we will get on as a married couple, but I cannot help but feel that will not last long. I'm certain to do something that will vex her, and I shall be in the dog house."

  "Do not do anything that will vex her then," Howley suggested, grinning.

  "She does not like or trust me. This marriage is already a disaster."

  Howley threw him a disbelieving glance. "You could always convince her otherwise on your wedding night," Howley teased, wagging his brows.

  "We have agreed to separate rooms and lives in private."

  "You're not going to bed her? What is wrong with you, man?" Howley asked him.

  Tatum thought about his friend's words, not quite sure why he would not either. Not really. But then, he had made a mistake in the past of giving his heart to another only to have it crushed and thrown back in his face. He would not be a fool for another woman again.

  His love for Eleanor had been strong, and he did not think he had it in him ever to give another such power over him.

  Miss Woodville may be one of the most beautiful women he had ever seen, but he had promised not to ask anything of her, and he would not.

  Chapter

  Five

  Later that evening, with the help of her maid, Millie stripped off her wedding dress, her best muslin gown she owned that she had packed for the house party, and slid into a shift her sister Julia had loaned her.

  She stood before the looking glass, staring at her reflection. She was married now, a duchess, yet she could not see any discernible changes in her.

  It was odd she was looking forward to her Season and all that it would bring only a week ago. Now she was a duchess, would enter society at the highest echelon and not partake in any courtship.

  Not even one with her husband.

  She could hear Tatum in his room, her maid having explained the door between their chambers was now unlocked.

  Millie was not sure how she felt about that. To know that he could walk in at any moment and see her. What if she were changing, or was indisposed, or worse, bathing as he had been when she had walked in on him?

  Married they may be, but she was not ready for him to see her in any shape or form other than the fully dressed kind.

  "Oh, Your Grace, you look beautiful," her maid, Eve, said, fussing with her bed and grinning at Millie as if she expected her wedding night would be a wonderful, memorable moment in time. If only the maid knew the real mechanics of her marriage.

  "Thank you, but I'm only sleeping. I do not see what all the fuss is about," she said, slipping her warm shawl about her shoulders before sinking into a chair before the hearth.

  There was no way she would cross the room to her adjoining door with her husband and seek him out. How odd that word was. Husband. And she now had one. It would take some time for her to get used to such things.

  A knock sounded, and Millie watched as her maid went to investigate, only to see her friend Paris standing on the threshold.

  "May I come in?" she asked.

  Millie waved her inside. "Of course," she said. "Thank you, Eve. You may retire for the night."

  "Thank you, Your Grace," her maid said, dipping into a curtsy before leaving them alone.

  Another change in her life that she would need to become accustomed to. The title and curtsy were strange since she had never had anyone curtsy to her before in her life.

  "Come in, Paris. I'm not busy." Millie gestured for her to sit across from her. She was glad of the company and needed a distraction from her mind. Would he expect her to consummate the marriage even though he said he would not? The thought made her blood run cold, and she would not do anything she did not want to, especially with a man who, up until today, was her foe.

  "Your Grace, how strange but wonderful that sounds. No matter the circumstances that brought on this marriage, I am happy for you," Paris said, bussing her cheeks with a kiss. "And I hope that it does not mean we will not spend as much time together as planned. I'm so looking forward to London next week, so I too can find myself a handsome duke."

  Millie laughed, shaking her head. "You will have little trouble finding a husband. You're too beautiful for words, and I have always been particularly jealous of your hair. Strawberry blonde, I have heard it termed, and I think it is just as pretty as that fruit."

  "Perhaps, but what will you do now that you're a duchess? Are you nervous about tonight? I know you were not particularly warm toward His Grace, although you seem to have formed a truce the last three days."

  "We have laid down our swords. That is true," Millie said. "But for how long, I do not know. He said we do not need to consummate the marriage, an
d I hope he continues to feel that way. I do not want to lay with a man I do not know. Or one whom I often disagree with. I do not think it would be pleasant."

  Even though the thought of Tatum stripping her of her clothes, his large hands touching her body in a way no one had before, left her all shivery. But more disturbing still, she wasn't entirely sure if that feeling was unpleasant.

  Paris nodded, her face grave. "It's inevitable that you will have to be with him intimately, but there is nothing wrong in wanting to get to know him a little better first. You never know," she continued, "you may get along with him better than you do now upon further acquaintance."

  Millie scoffed. "I doubt that, but we will see. He's my husband now, and I can do little about that. But there is one thing I wanted to ask you before you return to your room," Millie said, catching Paris's eye.

  "Yes, what is it?" her friend asked.

  "Would you like to come to stay with me now at the ducal residence in London instead of with Hailey? I'm married now and can act as chaperone as well as Hailey, and you are my particular friend after all," Millie accentuated.

  Joy flooded Paris's visage, and she all but bounced in her chair. "Oh, I would love that so very much, Millie. I did not want to ask since you're newly married, and one never knows for sure what that will entail for you, but if you think it will be alright, I would love to stay."

  Millie waved her concerns aside. "It shall be perfectly fine. The duke will continue with his life, as shall we. I may no longer be looking for a husband, but I can certainly find you one, and we shall have a jolly good time doing so. What say you?"

  Paris came over to her and pulled her to stand, hugging her tight. "Thank you, Millie. Thank you for everything you and your family have done for me. I know I would not be here or about to enjoy a London Season without your help. You are the best of people."

  Millie hugged her friend back. Paris was not the daughter of a land owner such as her papa, nor did she have any substantial inheritance. But she did have family in lofty locales now, which would help get Paris a good match.

  * * *

  Tatum stared at the ceiling in his room, listening to the laughter and the gossip of his newly minted wife and her friend in the adjacent room. He wanted to speak to Millie but would cool his heels in his room until she was alone.

  He was not entirely sure what he wanted to talk to her about. They had agreed tonight they would not consummate the marriage, but they did need to toast their nuptials, something they had not been able to do due to never being alone since this morning.

  Not that Millie wanted to be alone with him, and if he were being honest, nor did he want to be alone with her. But they were married now, and when they returned to London, he expected no gossip regarding his marriage to the youngest Woodville chit.

  He reached down and rubbed his hip. Today his blasted joint had been particularly prickly, and nothing he had done had made the pain relent.

  He heard the door close in his wife's room, and tossing back his bedding, he strode to the adjoining door, knocking twice before entering.

  His steps faltered, and he felt as though he had been smacked in the stomach with a brick at the sight that met his eye. His wife, her shawl haphazardly thrown onto her bed, but it was the woman herself that left his mind dizzy.

  He had always thought her beautiful, but now, dressed in a shift made of fine silk that was almost transparent, made desire, wicked and hot rushed through his veins. He reached out to the door, holding it lest he closed the space between them and kissed every inch of the goddesses’ body she had been hiding all these days.

  "Millie," he croaked, clearing his throat. "I thought we should toast our marriage before retiring for the night."

  She nodded but did not move. He could not blame her. She was an intelligent if not opinionated woman, and she would have seen his reaction to her. He had never been a man who had been able to hide his emotions.

  He knew she did not want to lay with him, and in truth, he did not want to in return. But by God, he had needs, and he would not push her from his room should she darken his door one day.

  He was a cad thinking in such a way, but he was also a man, and she was now his wife….

  Tatum returned to his room and poured them two glasses of brandy. When he returned, she had slunk onto her bed, her slim ankles and lean legs his to admire.

  He swallowed, handing her the glass and tipping his crystal against hers. "To our marriage. May we not always butt heads as much as we do, and may we one day be friends," he said, meaning every word.

  A small smile lifted the sides of her kissable lips, tempting him more this evening than they had all day. It had to be the silk shift she wore. Where had she fetched such a gown? Or was this what she wore every evening to bed?

  "To us," she returned, taking a small sip.

  Tatum downed his brandy in one swallow, needing the fortitude to return to his room and not seduce his wife to slake his growing needs.

  He sat beside her, watching her. "I will not ask anything as we agreed, but there is one thing I think we should do."

  "There is?" she said, finishing her drink and passing him her glass. He placed it on her side table before turning back to her.

  "Yes," he answered. "I think you ought to let me kiss you."

  Chapter

  Six

  "Kiss you?" Millie gasped, standing. "How dare you ask such a thing from me when you promised you would not force me into a situation that I was not ready for," she said, her heart pounding loud in her ears.

  She walked over to the opposite side of the room, as far away from her husband as she could.

  How dare he ask her to kiss him. Granted, it was not as bad as being asked to be intimate with him, but they did not know each other. Not to mention they were not friends. Far from friends, in fact. Nor had she forgotten that he intended to rut about London as he had before coming to Surrey for the house party.

  Even if she found him partially appealing and had thought to beguile him into loving her as an option to save their union, she was not ready for that. Not yet at least.

  He held out a hand, trying to calm her temper. It would not work. "I meant no offense. I thought it may help us become friends faster than we are now. That is all. I'm not trying to gain anything more from you this evening."

  Millie did not believe that for a moment. The entire time he was in her room, she had the distinct feeling he was up to something. He was a typical rogue out of London who thought any woman would be his if he merely clicked his fingers and wished it so.

  "I'm sorry, Your Grace, but I do not want to kiss you, not tonight and maybe not for many nights to come. We are not friends, have rarely got along, and to ask me such a thing is absurd. Please return to your room and stay there. I may have unfortunately placed us in this situation, but do not make it worse by assuming that I'm pleased by the outcome, for I am not." She paused, taking a calming breath. She gestured toward the adjoining door. "I think we should remain in separate rooms with separate lives."

  He frowned, watching her for a moment. She wondered what he was thinking. From his severe, startled expression, she could only assume he was less than pleased by her honesty.

  "You are right, of course. I will retire and wish you a good evening." He strode to his door, his steps faltering on the threshold. "Oh, I forgot to mention that I was never staying the entire week of the house party. Therefore, as my wife, you shall be returning to London tomorrow with me. I expect you to be in the carriage by eight." His annoyance at everything that had transpired between them was easy to hear in his words. "Good evening, Duchess," he said, leaving her alone.

  At last.

  Millie let out a breath she did not know she had been holding just as disappointment stabbed at her that she would have to leave with him tomorrow. Her family would expect her to do as he wished, even though she desired to do the opposite. He was so very vexing, bossy, and arrogant. And a duke who ruined house parties by leaving early.

  She slumped onto her bed, shaking her head. How dare he think she would kiss him. Maybe she could add delusional to her list of words that illustrated the duke.

  Her list of many.