They were indeed perfectly matched.
“Rest a moment,” he said once he’d pulled away. “Does it still hurt?”
“Yes. A little.” It wasn’t her poor, buggered arsehole that hurt, it was her sensibilities and her pride. “Will you unbind me now?”
“I’d like to leave you here forever,” he said. “But yes, I suppose you must be released.”
He took her hands down and unwound them, and chafed them to be sure they still circulated blood. He kissed each wrist, studying her face. “All right?” he asked softly.
She didn’t know if she was all right, so she didn’t answer. Instead she said, “I’m cold.”
He did up his breeches and then he helped her dress, touching her more, perhaps, than he really needed to. She felt warmer now, but still cold. The stocking that had held her was impossibly stretched and flopped down over the garter. She felt dirty and embarrassed. She wanted to wash.
He watched her as he pulled on his shirt and his fine afternoon waistcoat, and did up the gold buttons, and tidied up the echoing temple until it looked the way he’d found it. He extinguished the candles and shrugged on his coat, and guided her to the door.
“Say goodbye for now,” he said. “Although I’m sure we’ll be back.”
She wasn’t sure she wanted to come back. Well, yes. She did. “How often will you bring me here?” she asked.
“As often as I think you need to come. There is nothing ‘amiss’ with you, my dear, except that you have deviant sexual tastes. It’s not as if this is shocking to either of us. I’ve known you were like that all along. I knew when I spanked you in that meadow, and so did you.”
Yes, she had known then, but it didn’t make the conflicting emotions any easier to bear.
“You say you don’t like the things I do to you in private,” he said, “but I think what you really don’t like are your abandoned reactions. Which is silly, because they’re perfectly normal, and magnificently exciting to me.”
“What I don’t like is that...that you don’t like me.”
He gave her a puzzled look. “Of course I like you. You’re my wife. I feed you and clothe you like a princess, and shelter you in my house. And also occasionally tie you to a whipping post and sodomize you, but I’ll reiterate: you like that sort of thing.”
He jested. He refused to understand. He would never understand that she wanted more than to be used by him, and dressed like his doll, and perverted at his whim—even if she enjoyed said perversion. “I don’t want to like it,” she said peevishly.
He pulled her closer as they neared the house. “You don’t want to like anything,” he said. “But you will continue to behave as I wish, and be a proper duchess. The rest of it is nonsense.”
“Nonsense?” she repeated in irritation.
“Yes, nonsense.” He waved a lace-edged hand. “All your struggles and tantrums. Totally unnecessary. At some point you will realize that I know what’s best for you. If we’ve learned anything this afternoon, it’s that I know you better than you know yourself.”
He raked her with his gaze, a knowing, lurid assessment that made her want to slap him. Then he smiled and placed a lingering kiss on her forehead, and she thought, you don’t know everything you think you know, you pompous man.
Chapter Eleven: Audience
“Remember to curtsy to the king and queen,” Aidan said, pulling on his best pair of gloves. “And don’t speak unless you’re asked a question.”
“Yes, Sir. Lady Langton told me.”
His lips tightened. Why did his wife persist in addressing him as if he were a bloody stranger? He was her husband, for God’s sake. The least she could do was smile at him.
You are not smiling at her either.
He forced a smile to his face, but by that time Gwen had turned to look out the carriage window at the people milling about the palace.
“Are all of them here to see the king and queen?” she asked.
“No. Most of them are only here to gawk. Not everyone is admitted to the palace. Audiences are only granted to the proper sort.”
“The proper sort?” His wife rolled her eyes.
“Yes, the proper sort,” he said a bit heatedly. “And there is a proper sort, whether or not your wild Welsh heart believes it should be so.”
He sat across from her, since her ornate court gown took up her entire bench. It had been specially made of heavy gold satin, to match the trimmings on his black formal coat and breeches. The skirt was at least four feet wide, and twice as long behind with the attached train. The entire ensemble—bodice, skirt, petticoat, train—was encrusted with ruffles, embroidery, and French lace. He didn’t envy her the challenge of walking in it, and the cost... When she asked the cost, he didn’t tell her. She would have considered it a fortune. Enough to keep her father’s household in wine and servants for a year or more.
But the expense didn’t matter, or the fact that she would probably never wear this gown again, since it would be gauche to appear in the same outfit twice to a royal audience. The priceless jewels she wore didn’t matter, or the gold and diamond tiara nestled in her dark hair. What mattered was that they had made this marriage at the crown’s behest, and the crown wished to look upon them and believe it well done.
She sighed and clasped her gloved hands in her lap.
“Why the sigh?” he asked. “You ought to be happy. I’ll be glad to have this over with.”
“I will too.” His wife studied him from beneath her lashes. “Must we act like we’re in love today?”
“What?”
“Will the king and queen expect us to be in love? They’re rumored to be in love.”
Aidan stared at the rose and ivy embroidered along the hem of her dress. “They know ours is an arranged marriage. You needn’t feign love or affection for their benefit. It’s only been a few weeks. But you should express thanks for their hand in bringing us together.”
“If they ask, you mean. You said I should not speak unless I’m asked a question.”
“Why don’t you let me do the talking? I’m accustomed to these audiences.”
Gwen looked back out the window. “How long do you think it took them to fall in love?”
“I don’t know. I’m not privy to their private life.” Had he sounded too sharp? His wife had a great fascination with romantic love. It made him wonder if she’d carried a flame for someone back in Wales. Tommy, he thought bitterly. Sometimes it seemed she would prefer the fictional Tommy to his own status and wealth.
Aidan was not sure how he felt about love. He knew his friends were in love with their wives, and yes, King George adored his Charlotte. Did Aidan love Gwen? He tried to. He tried to be patient with her, and understanding. He was generous in bed, and catered to her need for rougher pleasures, needs that aligned beautifully with his. All of that ought to add up to love, but somehow, with them, it didn’t.
Even so, he felt protective of his wife. He could feel her trembling as they made their way through St. James Palace, past bewigged servants and haughty courtiers to the royal chambers. He couldn’t even draw her close to comfort her, due to the exaggerated proportions of her gown. At last they stood in the presence of Their Majesties, and Gwen made a creditable curtsy, for all her trembling.
“Arlington,” the king said warmly. “You have brought us your new bride as we bade you.”
Aidan bowed. “I am honored to introduce my wife, by your wisdom and grace. Guinevere, the Duchess of Arlington.”
Lady Langton had taught Gwen well. His dark-haired wife sank into another obeisant curtsy. The queen’s face lit up in an approving smile.
“You have our congratulations,” said the king. “And what did you think of our heroic Lord Lisburne? Was he pleased with the match?”
“Exceedingly pleased. I found him in excellent health,” Aidan replied. “He showed admirable hospitality, and I enjoyed my time in Wales.”
“And here is his daughter. Come forward, duchess. Let us l
ook at you.”
Gwen curtsied again. Well, she certainly had the curtsying thing down. The king would appreciate her gentle modesty, even if it was all an act. Aidan could see the man was charmed.
“And how do you enjoy being married to our Duke of Arlington? He is a much-admired man.”
“Our marriage has been well enough,” she said.
“Well enough!” exclaimed the king, grinning at her husband. “Not the most resounding vote of confidence.”
Aidan played off this misstep with a smile. “The duchess and I are still coming to know one another, Your Majesty. We have not been married long.”
“One of the greatest joys of marriage is coming to understand and feel affection for the other person,” said the queen, smiling at Gwen. “Do you spend time together with your new husband, pleasant time at leisure?”
Gwen flicked a glance at him. “We do spend time together.”
Well, she might have smiled when she said that. The king and queen regarded Gwen curiously, as did some of the other courtiers in the room. Smile, damn you, he thought. We are supposed to seem grateful for this match.
“I imagine it has been an adjustment, coming to England from your homeland,” said Queen Charlotte. “It was an adjustment for me.”
These were very kind words on the part of the queen, a gracious likening of their situations. Gwen accepted them in silence, so Aidan was forced to speak instead.
“It has been somewhat of an adjustment for my wife, Your Majesty.”