at her dressing table she felt numb.
She had married a Peer of the Realm. He wasn’t a common piece of rough. He was…he was a lord. Her initial suspicions of him had been correct. She’d known he’d spoken with too refined of an accent. He wasn’t rough and ready, he only wanted people to believe that of him. He had been in as many of the glittering ballrooms of the land as she had…maybe…maybe more. Their financial situation had only improved when Mallory had married before that they hadn’t been able to afford giving her much of a Season…let alone a proper Come Out.
“Shall I help you into bed?”
“No. I think I can handle that myself.”
“I’ll just warm up the sheets then, and be on my way,” Carson said. Gemma bit her lip, and sat unmoving. Would she ever be able to move from her place? She felt wretched, and simmering down beneath it all was a little bit of anger. Anger and resentment that they had all pulled the wool down over her eyes. She didn’t like being deceived. No….no, she didn’t, not one bit.
After Carson had done her bit, and left the room, she remained where she was. This wasn’t how she’d always expected to spend her wedding night. Sighing heavily, she finally found the strength to stand up. Her legs were wobbly beneath her, and she slowly made her way over to her bed. Climbing up on it, she tucked the covers down around herself. The sheets were nice and cozy warm. She sank back against her many pillows, and finally relaxed. One candle still illuminated her bedchamber in a gentle hue. She looked at the plain rose gold wedding ring she wore. Archie had been well equipped. He’d come with the special license, her wedding ring, his valet and who knows what else.
She had just shut her eyes when the sound of someone entering her room startled her awake. She looked over to see her husband. His boldness knew no bounds, apparently.
“Get out,” she said coldly. “This is my bedchamber. Not yours.”
“It isn’t?” he asked innocently.
“Don’t make me scream.”
“I wouldn’t mind hearing that,” he said softly, quietly walking over to the large bed. He felt the mattresses. “Aye…this should do. This should do me quite nicely.”
“Do you quite nicely? I think not, sir. As I said, this is my bedroom. Not yours. You go, you leave this instant.”
“I do not have to leave. I am right where I am supposed to be.”
“Why are you being so tiring?”
“I’m not, am I?” he asked. The soft glow of the one candle still left him pretty much draped in darkness. She lifted the candle, so she could gain a better look at him. He was already dressed for bed. Popinjay. Varlet. Knave. How…how could he!
“You lied to me.”
“I did?” again with that simpering sweet innocence. She groaned.
“You did,” she said forcefully. “You withheld pertinent information about yourself.”
“I wasn’t aware that I had.”
“You let me marry you thinking that you are part of the hoi polloi.”
“I…hang on, are you offended because you married a man with a title?”
“I am offended because that man didn’t tell me that he had been born into a prestigious family. You didn’t tell me that you were the son of a duke.”
“I am,” he said softly.
“You are,” she said, more like it was an accusation than a confirmation.
“And this displeases you?”
“It does. I thought I was marrying a man who would…”
“Cause a scandal for you? You thought that Mallory would marry you off to a man without means?”
“I don’t know what I bloody well thought. I thought I was marrying down, not up from Duxford.”
“You would have married up, sweetheart, even if you had married a man from the hoi polloi who had raised himself up by going into the Royal Navy. Any man of good moral fiber is a step up from Duxford.”
“Again with the insults upon his character.”
“Aye, and I will keep insulting him until the day I die.”
She fell into silence and looked
She had married a Peer of the Realm. He wasn’t a common piece of rough. He was…he was a lord. Her initial suspicions of him had been correct. She’d known he’d spoken with too refined of an accent. He wasn’t rough and ready, he only wanted people to believe that of him. He had been in as many of the glittering ballrooms of the land as she had…maybe…maybe more. Their financial situation had only improved when Mallory had married before that they hadn’t been able to afford giving her much of a Season…let alone a proper Come Out.
“Shall I help you into bed?”
“No. I think I can handle that myself.”
“I’ll just warm up the sheets then, and be on my way,” Carson said. Gemma bit her lip, and sat unmoving. Would she ever be able to move from her place? She felt wretched, and simmering down beneath it all was a little bit of anger. Anger and resentment that they had all pulled the wool down over her eyes. She didn’t like being deceived. No….no, she didn’t, not one bit.
After Carson had done her bit, and left the room, she remained where she was. This wasn’t how she’d always expected to spend her wedding night. Sighing heavily, she finally found the strength to stand up. Her legs were wobbly beneath her, and she slowly made her way over to her bed. Climbing up on it, she tucked the covers down around herself. The sheets were nice and cozy warm. She sank back against her many pillows, and finally relaxed. One candle still illuminated her bedchamber in a gentle hue. She looked at the plain rose gold wedding ring she wore. Archie had been well equipped. He’d come with the special license, her wedding ring, his valet and who knows what else.
She had just shut her eyes when the sound of someone entering her room startled her awake. She looked over to see her husband. His boldness knew no bounds, apparently.
“Get out,” she said coldly. “This is my bedchamber. Not yours.”
“It isn’t?” he asked innocently.
“Don’t make me scream.”
“I wouldn’t mind hearing that,” he said softly, quietly walking over to the large bed. He felt the mattresses. “Aye…this should do. This should do me quite nicely.”
“Do you quite nicely? I think not, sir. As I said, this is my bedroom. Not yours. You go, you leave this instant.”
“I do not have to leave. I am right where I am supposed to be.”
“Why are you being so tiring?”
“I’m not, am I?” he asked. The soft glow of the one candle still left him pretty much draped in darkness. She lifted the candle, so she could gain a better look at him. He was already dressed for bed. Popinjay. Varlet. Knave. How…how could he!
“You lied to me.”
“I did?” again with that simpering sweet innocence. She groaned.
“You did,” she said forcefully. “You withheld pertinent information about yourself.”
“I wasn’t aware that I had.”
“You let me marry you thinking that you are part of the hoi polloi.”
“I…hang on, are you offended because you married a man with a title?”
“I am offended because that man didn’t tell me that he had been born into a prestigious family. You didn’t tell me that you were the son of a duke.”
“I am,” he said softly.
“You are,” she said, more like it was an accusation than a confirmation.
“And this displeases you?”
“It does. I thought I was marrying a man who would…”
“Cause a scandal for you? You thought that Mallory would marry you off to a man without means?”
“I don’t know what I bloody well thought. I thought I was marrying down, not up from Duxford.”
“You would have married up, sweetheart, even if you had married a man from the hoi polloi who had raised himself up by going into the Royal Navy. Any man of good moral fiber is a step up from Duxford.”
“Again with the insults upon his character.”
“Aye, and I will keep insulting him until the day I die.”
She fell into silence and looked
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