“So, that once tranquil, speechless creature is well and truly buried. You’ve a strong right fist, Duchess. No, don’t try to kill me again, consider me already suitably maimed.”
“You bastard, let me go.”
“Well, if I do, do you promise not to fetch a pistol and shoot me?”
She kicked him in the shin.
He grunted, then pulled her hard to the side of him. “Now, would you like to meet Celeste Crenshaw? Isn’t she charming? She adores me, was perfectly willing to come all the way north so I wouldn’t be deprived.”
She was making a great fool of herself. He’d done this on purpose. He’d quite made her lose her good sense. Quite simply, he’d done her in.
She tried to take a deep, calming breath. It was very difficult. She still tried, saying finally, knowing she didn’t have but a few moments to salvage her pride and the situation, “Hello, Celeste,” in surely a voice that was too shrill and too loud. “So you are here to take this lout out of my bed. I’m delighted, truly. I was angry at him for quite something else. Please understand, I’m ecstatic you’re here. I’m quite tired of pleading endless headaches and endless toe aches. Do you know that I have even tried to make myself become ill to keep him away from me? Ah, yes, now that you’re here, I shall be able to smile again. I am so very hungry, but to eat would have made him think that my sickness was all an act. I won’t have to pretend to illness any more. Now I can eat. Thank you, Celeste. Shall I show you to your room or would you prefer to sleep with his lordship in his bedchamber?”
She was well aware that his hands were tightening on her upper arms. She looked up at him, giving him a lot of white teeth. “Do forgive me for acting the shrew, Marcus. It is just that you took me off guard. Now that I see the magnificent benefits Miss Crenshaw offers to both of us, I realize quite clearly what a wonderful, thoughtful husband I have. Oh, my dearest Marcus, you are far too kind to me.”
“I will kill you,” he said between his teeth. He began to shake her, then stopped abruptly. “No, if I continue to shake you, you just might vomit in the rosebushes again. Mr. Biggs, the head gardener, was near to tears about it. You quite ruined his new bush. No, I shan’t do that again. Now, madam—”
He paused, then he began to lightly caress her upper arms. His eyes were very blue. “If I’m a wonderful, kind husband, why you, Duchess, you are an equally magnificent wife. Now, if you don’t mind, Celeste is doubtless fatigued—from thirst, you understand. Don’t fret, my dear. I will see her to a chamber and take care of her needs.” He patted her cheek, kissed her forehead as chastely as would an uncle, and turned to the young woman who hadn’t said anything.
“See how lovely she is, Celeste? And here you were worried that she might not find you as charming as I do. Now, let me take you to your bedchamber and assist you out of that traveling gown. It is wrinkled and you do look heated—well, not really wrinkled and in truth it’s I who am heated. Yes, a nice cool bath—ah, I’ll wash your back for you—and then we will enjoy the remainder of the afternoon.”
“Marcus.”
“Yes, Duchess?” he said, turning.
“If you do not take your hands off her, I will do something that you will surely regret.”
He dropped his hands immediately. “Now what, Duchess?”
“If you laugh at me again, I will also do something that you will surely regret.”
“Not a stitch of laughter in this body, Duchess.”
“Good. Now, Miss Crenshaw, you will follow Sampson and he will take you to your bedchamber.”
Miss Crenshaw shook her head and giggled. “I think, my Lord Chase, my lady, that this is a stalemate. Both of you have done remarkable things to the other. You two have entertained me more in the past ten minutes than I have been for the past year at Drury Lane. And to think that his lordship even paid me ten guineas for my presence here. Thank you so much for allowing me to remain. Ah, may I remain, my lord, for just tonight? Oh, yes, my name is Hannah Crenshaw. Not this Celeste, a name that is obviously made up for it sounds quite silly really.”
“Tonight is fine,” the Duchess said. “You are too beautiful, however, to remain longer. I will see that his lordship is locked in his bedchamber. Badger is a fine cook. You just might want to stay, along with our American relatives, but you can’t.”
Miss Crenshaw giggled again and walked away from them, her bearing more sedate and elegant than the Duchess’s.
The Duchess turned back to her husband, saw that he was nearly fit to burst with laughter, and slammed her fist in his belly. He grunted for her, then brought her against him, hugging her hard.
“I had you for a full five minutes. You’re more ferocious than even Spears and Badger believed you’d be. Maggie wanted to wager that you’d return to being a silent stick, and fade away in quiet misery, but Badger said no, you’d wallop the daylights out of my poor body. Spears just sniffed and told me that the entire charade wasn’t worthy of the earl of Chase.”
She simply stared at him now for a very long time. Finally, she began to rub at his chest and arms where she’d struck him. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?”
“Yes, I’m in frightful pain.”
She switched from rubbing vigorously to caressing. He said in a sigh, “We have quite an audience, Duchess. There is Mr. Biggs, over there, hiding behind the rosebushes you nearly killed, doubtless there to protect his new blooms.”
“I know,” she said, stood on her tiptoes and kissed his mouth. She stared at him, lightly kissing his chin, his jaw, his ear. “You will never bore me, Marcus.”
“You think you bore me? You just pulled off your left boot and beat me with it. Never would I have expected such a unique attack.”
“A lady must make do with what she has available.”
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