Page 17 of Stolen By the Duke of Stone

Locke, the head housemaid who would also be functioning as Jessamine’s lady’s maid, was unpacking Jessamine’s clothes, and smiled in a friendly way. “Good afternoon, Your Grace. Is there anything I can do for you?”

Jessamine, who had just put William down for a feed and a nap, slumped in the large armchair before the fire. She would have, she estimated, around an hour or so before William awoke again, which would be just enough time for a small nap.

“His Grace has requested you join him for dinner,” Locke said, sliding a gown into the wardrobe. “Do you have a particular dress you would like to wear?”

“Dinner?” Jessamine stared at Locke in horror. “What do you mean? I should be staying here, with William.”

“But it’s your…” Locke trailed off, obviously unsure. “I’m afraid His Grace did not frame this as a request, Your Grace.”

In other words, Jessamine had no choice. So this was what her life with the duke would be like: filled with his commands and everyone’s assumption that she would obey them.

She considered disobeying him and remaining up in her rooms with William, which was where she belonged. She had not married Andrew so they could sit and eat dinner awkwardly together.

Locke looked at her, a trace of anxiety in the other woman’s face, and Jessamine realized it would reflect badly on Locke if she chose not to attend. No doubt the maid would be punished, and that would be on Jessamine’s conscience as well.

“Very well,” she said stiffly. “I will attend. But I have no particular preference as to my gown.”

Locke beamed. “I will make you look the part, ma’am. You will dazzle His Grace, no mistake.”

Jessamine sincerely hoped she wouldn’t.

Chapter Six

Andrew checked his pocket watch as he sat at the head of the table.

Dinner was at eight, and he had sent a reminder up to Jessamine at seven, in case she should get carried away in her duties toward the child. There were certain expectations that they both, as duke and duchess, ought to uphold, and he would do everything in his power to ensure that happened. No matter his bride’s reluctance.

They would, on occasion, eat together. The staff expected it, and servants gossiped. Always. He had certain expectations, and he would always adhere to them.

And she was late.

Punctuality was the most basic demonstration of respect, and he felt irritation grow in his chest as he stared at the door and waited for Jessamine to appear.

Finally, ten minutes after dinner was supposed to start, she appeared in the doorway.

Andrew stood out of habit, but his mind was entirely occupied by her appearance. Her maid must have forcibly sat her down in order to curl her hair into a flurry of perfect ringlets, and her chosen gown, a soft pink, clung to her curves.

His new wife was generously apportioned. The delectable curve of her breasts showed just above the neckline of her dress, and the flare of her hips meant that her thighs pressed against the thin material of her dress.

Of course he knew she wore at least a chemise underneath. Yet his imagination still plagued him with thoughts of that soft silk sliding against soft, bare skin.

He cleared his throat. “You are late.”

“I did not want to be here at all.” She swept in a swirl of perfume to the other set place on the table. Far away from him. Good. They ought to speak about the future, and he needed his wits about him, not distracted by just how appealing his new wife was.

Damn it, Nicholas was right.

But he was not an animal.

“We are husband and wife, and dinner is a convenient time to discuss everything that must be discussed. That way, we can ensure we are always in accord when it comes to making decisions.”

She raised a brow at him, but the footmen served them, and she leaned back in her chair, falling silent again. It was only when the servants left that Andrew felt the full extent of the silence. It draped about them like a shroud.

Still, there was much to be discussed.

“Rebecca said you were close when you were both young,” she ventured.

The mention of Rebecca was a knife slicing through him, and he gripped his knife more firmly than necessary. “Indeed. How are you finding the arrangements for William?”