The Scoundrel Duke of her Heart by Violet Hamers
Chapter Fourteen
Nicholas stood as soon as he heard Jenny’s voice in the hall. He had been waiting for her for two hours and in that time, he had rehearsed what to say at least a hundred times in his head.
Now that she was here, however, he did not quite know what to say anymore. Just the sound of her voice was starting to stir him and he strode to the window, a considerably safe distance from the door, and clasped his hands in front of him.
“Nicholas,” she said when she walked in, “I didn’t know you were coming today.”
“I did not know I was coming either,” he replied coolly.
“Would you like to sit down?” she asked, taking a seat and folding her hands primly on her lap.
“There is something between us that might complicate our marriage,” he began and her delicate shoulders visibly stiffened. Her countenance remained unchanged, however. “The reason you accepted my proposal is so you could help your father. I want you to know that you are free to cry off if you truly do not wish to marry me.”
She glanced down at her hands for a moment and when she looked up at him, her eyes sparkled angrily. Angering her was not the way he’d wanted to do this.
“You are looking to be released, are you not?” she asked, her voice calm and even. “Pray, what is this thing between us that might complicate our marriage?”
“Our marriage is supposed to be in name only, Jenny. What happened in the Addbury library should not have happened. I behaved very badly and I apologize.”
She turned away from him but not before he caught her wince. “You are right, Nicholas. It should never have happened and it will not happen again.” She faced him and there was only ice in her expression. Guilt stabbed at his conscience. She rose from her chair and walked toward him.
No, don’t come close, Jenny, he protested inwardly.
A slight smile touched her pretty lips but never her eyes. “I doubt your grandmother and my father will be happy if I cry off.”
“I will pay off your father’s debts and you will be free to do as you wish with your life.” He would lose the political influence he stood to gain but he thought there were things that held more significance than politics.
“You insult me, Nicholas, and for that reason, I am not going to accept your offer.”
“Are you trying to punish me?” he asked tersely.
She shrugged and took another step toward him. Only now did he understand how foolish he had been to come to the window. He had nowhere else to retreat to. He had some control of his body now but if she stepped any closer, he was not certain what would happen.
“Do you think you deserve to be punished?” she asked very softly, her green gaze holding his. His words had wounded her, he realized. Lord, I am such a fool!
“Jenny, you do not want a man as tainted as I am. I am doing this for your own good.” He clenched his fists at his sides.
“You don’t get to decide that. I have free will and I will not be pushed about. Your grandmother dragged me through the shopping streets of London today. I will not allow my endurance of it to be in vain.”
Coming here had been a mistake. He was positive Jenny hated him now and he was going to be miserable in this marriage if he did not have her approbation.
“I thought you would be happy to be given the chance to change your mind,” he murmured.
“I would have if you had employed more tact.” She turned on her heels and returned to her seat. “Now, is there anything else you wish to tell me?”
He wanted to apologize to her, to confess his desire, but he did not think she would believe him. “Forgive me,” he said.
“Of course, Your Grace.”
Nicholas grimaced. He supposed he deserved her coldness. He supposed he deserved the punishment of living the rest of his life wanting her and never having her.
* * *
On the eve of his wedding, Nicholas found himself unable to get even a wink of sleep. He sat up in bed and rubbed his face before rising and locating a pair of breeches and a shirt.
He padded downstairs to his game room where he poured himself a few fingers of Irish whiskey and took to a game of darts. He missed the bull's-eye every time. The thoughts in his head unsettled him this night more than any other. Frustrated, he tossed the darts onto the billiard table and grunted.
“What did those poor darts ever do to you?” a lazy voice sounded from the doorway.
Nicholas turned to glare at his cousin, surprised to see him still in the house. “What are you doing here? I thought you left.”
“I am spending the night to make sure you are not packing your bags and running into the night.” He leaned against the doorjamb and folded his arms across his chest.
“You think I would leave her?” he snapped.
“Well, you area blackguard and you have been running for a while now.”
Nicholas hated that Ernest knew that dark part of him. He took a draft of his whiskey and picked up one of the darts he had thrown onto the billiard table. When he threw it, it hit the center. He should rejoice but he felt no triumph.
“I jest,” Ernest said, moving to the liquor service, “I know you will not leave her. I thought you could use some company tonight.”
“That is very kind of you,” Nicholas said and he was not being sarcastic. He let out a small laugh filled with self-derision. “You are more of her friend now than I ever was.”
“Someone had to fill your shoes. I never had a sister and having Jenny in that role is good for me.”
Nicholas was surprised by that revelation. Ernest had never given a damn about anyone in his life much less considered them family. Yet, here he was, calling Jenny his sister, and this further exposed Nicholas’s failures.
“What was she like?” he asked. “In the years I was away...during her transition into adolescence.”
“You have the rest of your life to know the woman she is now. She has changed a lot and I am not going to do your work for you.”
“I gave her a chance to cry off and she refused.” He threw the dart again and missed.
Ernest smiled impishly. “Did you ask nicely?”
No. He had insulted her instead and he did not know how to make amends. He had seen her only a handful of times at social events in the past two weeks and in those times, she had treated him with cool cordiality. There was a lot of awkwardness between them and it grated his conscience because he counted on their friendship to carry them through this marriage.
“Listen, Nicholas. Jenny would not have agreed to marry you if she did not think she could live harmoniously with you. This is your chance to take back those years you have lost. If you care as you say, you will see an opportunity here and not damnation.”
Nicholas spent the remainder of the night considering his cousin’s advice. He had been selfish only thinking about himself and the desire that had intruded into his life when he should have thought more about how Jenny must be feeling. How nervous and uncertain she must be.
* * *
“You look like you did not sleep at all,” Mrs. Atwood remarked when she entered Jenny’s bedchamber that morning with Sarah behind her, bearing a tray with a cup on it. The smell that was gradually permeating the air told her it was coffee.
“I did sleep,” she said. “It’s bride’s nerves.” It was true. Jenny had gotten some hours of sleep but she was still feeling weary and uneasy. It was her wedding day and she ought to be happy, yet she was anything but.
Knowing that the man she was marrying was repulsed by her, so much so that he had offered her the chance to cry off, felt like a blade cutting her insides. She had thought she would gain satisfaction by refusing to cry off to punish him but that had not been the case because she was instead rewarded with a hollow feeling.
“Have some coffee, my dear; it will make you ready for the day ahead.” Mrs. Atwood handed her the cup before picking up a note from the tray and giving it to her. “This arrived very early.”
One glance and Jenny knew who sent it. She lifted the seal and unfolded it:
I wish to send you flowers but they are quite mundane and will not do justice to what I want you to know. I am pleased you are the woman I am marrying and I mean every word. You are my friend and you will become my life partner. It is an honor.
Jenny folded the note and placed it on the nightstand. Then she drank her coffee, unwilling to allow herself to feel anything. If she did, she would soon be tumbling down the hill of unrequited love. She had to be strong. When it was time for her to depart for St. James’, she stood in the foyer with a rueful smile on her face, bidding the house and servants she had known her entire life farewell.
“Come, my dear,” her father took her arms and guided her to the waiting carriage.
Every yard the carriage covered, her heart beat faster. When the carriage stopped, she was unsure she could feel her legs at all. Her father stepped down and held his hand out to her. But uncertainty gripped her and she shrunk into the carriage.
It is not too late to get out, she told herself.
