Page 11 of Married to the Duke By Midnight

The whole party walked over there, Robert and Miss Hawkins stood in front of the priest again, and suddenly it was happening. The man of the cloth recited the vows, and they repeated them.

Robert looked into Miss Hawkins’ eyes as he said the crucial words that would bind him to her forever. He wanted her to know that he was entering the marriage with his eyes open. Miss Hawkins’s eyes strayed from his from time to time, as she repeated her own vows. But her voice was clear and no one could be in doubt that this was a match of her own choosing.

Ten minutes later, they were in his carriage on their way to his townhouse.

5

Jo focused on the sputtering lamp inside the duke’s carriage as they rode through the dark streets of London. She did not know how to look at her new husband and face the enormity of what she had just done.

She had managed it. She had escaped Ambrose’s clutches, saved her seaside cottage and stepped into an unknown future. One she had tried to map as best she could, but which still held so many unknowns. She belonged to this man. She had just promised to honor and obey him, and even if he had signed her contract – both contracts thankfully – they would not hold up in a court of law. She would have to do as he said if he turned out to be less kind and as far from steady as he had appeared.

The thought made Jo draw in a deep breath to steady herself.

“Are you regretting it?” the duke asked from the opposite bench.

Jo shook her head.

“I am certain that if you are, we could make the whole matter go away. Find the priest and bribe him, tear up the marriage certificate, swear our friends to secrecy.” His tone was serious, which she appreciated.

“There is no need for it,” Jo assured him and smiled slightly. It comforted her that he would offer it. Unless… “Have you regretted it, Your Grace?”

The plan was extremely thought out. Her heart pounded in her ears, as she waited for his words. Could she be this close to gaining her freedom only to lose it again?

The duke shook his head, and she could tell from his honest expression that he had not. Although she did not understand why.

“Call me Robert. We are married now after all.”

Robert. It was bizarre to be so intimate with a virtual stranger and yet she would be much more intimate in only a few short weeks.

“And you? What should I call you?” the duke asked in a slightly curt tone of voice.

“Jo,” she whispered. “My friends call me Jo.” Her voice was hoarse as she tried to speak louder and she had to clear her throat several times.

He nodded but did not comment. Yet his intense gaze on her made warmth gather in her belly. Her mind went to the kiss they had shared in the garden. It had been a test of some sort, she had sensed as much, although she was uncertain what exactly she was being tested on.

It could certainly not be her ability to kiss, since she had never tried it before and was probably horribly bad at it. Yet it did not seem to matter to him. Perhaps he thought there was room enough for improvement to make it enjoyable for him later. At least she had found it exceedingly pleasant and hoped they would do it a lot once they reached the third week. Her stomach somersaulted at the thought.

The carriage stopped and Jo sent the duke a surprised look. Were they already there?

“I live close to the Thistleworths’,” he confirmed.

Jo nodded mutely and watched him alight from the carriage. He turned and offered her a hand to help her down. Jo hesitantly alighted and looked up at the dark house in front of them. It was massive, three or four stories high; it was difficult to see in the darkness. Large windows on the bottom two floors at least. They were standing in front of a large staircase in a private driveway.

The enormity of Jo’s decision crept up on her yet again. She had thought she knew about wealth and great estates from her life in Hampshire with her uncle and the visits to his friends and the local baron, but this was nothing like it.

“Come,” Robert said and tugged his hand gently from her grasp. Jo realized she had been clutching it. He elegantly transferred her hand to the crook of his elbow and led her up the stairs.

She was introduced to the butler, Robinson, a short man with a smooth face, that made him look younger than he was. At least Jo believed him to be older than five and twenty to hold such a position.

The poor man was flustered by the news of his master marrying but composed himself enough to tell them that the housekeeper had retired for the night, but that he would have someone make up the duchess’ suite.

“We will wait in the yellow sitting room,” Robert told him.

Jo’s heart was in her throat as they walked into the entrance hall. She could not make out much in the darkness except that it was massive and seemed to be built in the Palladian style that had dominated much of the last century: Clean lines and few colors. Jo liked her spaces a little more… cluttered. But she could always make certain that her own room was kept in that way she supposed.

They walked up the stairs to the upstairs sitting room where several lamps and the fireplace had already been lit. Jo wondered how the servants had managed it in the short time it had taken them to walk there. Perhaps the staff had anticipated that Robert would settle here for a bit before heading to bed. But she was fairly certain that the room faced the street, and she had not seen light up here when she was standing in the driveway.

She decided not to think about it anymore and studied the room as she sat down. It was created in the same style as the entrance hall but seemed more lived in: There were several paintings of landscapes and estates on the wall. Small porcelain figurines of horses and dogs on the mantelpiece, and a couple of books were lying on a side table.