Moving closer, he took up her hand in his. “It is a ridiculous notion to think you cannot inspire love,” he murmured.
She gazed up at him, seemingly stunned by his fervent words. For a moment there was a softening of her turquoise eyes, churning waters stilling, and he felt himself sinking into their depths. In the next moment, however, they went flat, her expression smoothing, devoid of all emotion.
“That is kind of you to say,” she murmured. Then, gently extracting her hand from his, she turned and walked away.
If he could have kicked himself, he would have. While he had meant his words to be kind, he saw now how needlessly cruel they had been, as well as how much he had stolen from her by marrying her. It was obvious, though she had friends who cared about her, that Bronwyn had been starved for love from her own parents. They had somehow made her believe that no man would love her, so much so that she had accepted Ash’s offer of a cold, heartless marriage of convenience less than forty-eight hours after meeting him. She would never know romantic love, would never have proof that she was not the unlovable person her parents had made her believe she was.
And what a selfish bastard he was, he thought with no little guilt as he gazed at her retreating form. For he was drawn to his bride in ways he never expected, and would not change having married her for the world.
Chapter 9
Within the hour, Bronwyn and Ash were off for Caulnedy.
Blessedly, the drive was a quiet one, each of them mired in their own thoughts. Bronwyn was glad for it. After that horrid moment in Danesford’s garden, being confronted with Ash’s pitying kindness, she did not think she could handle conversation with him.
Mayhap she should attempt to smooth things between them. She had seen the flash of horror in his eyes after his well-intentioned comment, which had only managed to highlight the truth of her situation: she was so unlovable she had been forced to marry a stranger.
But it was not Ash’s fault. He was providing her with the life she had wanted, after all, one free to pursue her passions. He didn’t deserve such distance from her. A short conversation would do wonders for chipping away at this slab of ice that seemed to have settled between them. Bronwyn, however, had always been rubbish at small talk, with a social ineptitude that bordered on pathetic. It was doubly so now as the gravity of what she had just done in marrying him hit her with all the force of a brick to the head. She was married. She was a wife. No, not just a wife; aduchess. She didn’t know the first thing about being a duchess—well, she didn’t know the first thing about being a wife, either, but she especially did not know anything about being a duchess. And a duchess who was now responsible for three young girls. Yes, she liked them. And they seemed to like her, or at least the two younger ones did. She had only seen them in passing all that long day, the first she had seen them since her acceptance of Ash’s proposal. But what little time they’d spent together had been filled with talk of how thrilled they were that Bronwyn was marrying their guardian, the fun and adventures they would have on the Isle, how much they looked forward to assisting her in her research.
Even so, how was she supposed to help guide a duke’s three wards in all the things they would need to take their places in the world? To help them find husbands and begin lives of their own?
Especially when she had been such rubbish at it herself. Current position notwithstanding.
The carriage emerged from the thicket of trees, and the setting sun streamed into the window and across her lap, highlighting just how tightly she was grasping her hands together. She peered outside, suddenly unaccountably nervous as she spied Caulnedy. Golden light bathed its brick facade, a sight that she supposed should be welcoming but instead only filled her with a deep uncertainty. This was her home now for the foreseeable future. This grand place had an old-world elegance, which her parents had tried so desperately to copy in their bright, new, fashionable town house. Lady Tesh had insisted that Regina, Eliza, and Nelly remain with her for several nights, to give Bronwyn and Ash time together as newlyweds. Seacliff had been much too quiet and lonely, she had declared, since her dear granddaughter had married the Duke of Carlisle, and she looked forward to having young people about the house again. Judging by how frazzled Katrina appeared during the wedding festivities while watching over the girls, however, Bronwyn rather thought it would not be the sweet experience the dowager viscountess assumed it would be.
But as the carriage stopped and her new husband hopped down to the gravel drive to hand her down, Bronwyn sent up a quick prayer of thanks that she had been unable to talk Lady Tesh out of her plan to have the girls stay with her. This whole situation was strange and difficult enough.
A thought that was compounded as, stepping down from the carriage on shaky legs, she looked up to find a long line of servants, hired on with impressive speed to ready the house for habitation, waiting for them.
“Your Graces,” the butler intoned, bowing deeply. “The staff and I would like to wish you our felicitations on your marriage. We pray everything at Caulnedy is to your liking—”
He had not finished before a slight, ancient woman pushed past him. “Master Ash,” she declared with a wide smile. “So you are married are you? Good, good. Let me see the lady then.” With that she turned to Bronwyn, looking for all the world like an insect, her eyes magnified in an almost ridiculous fashion by her spectacles.
Bronwyn stood frozen, stunned, as the woman looked her up and down. Ash leaned down and said in her ear, “This is Mrs. Wheeler. She has been housekeeper here since I can remember.”
“And I’m nearly as old as the foundation Caulnedy was built upon,” the woman quipped before she took Bronwyn’s hand and patted it. “I’ve heard of you, of course. I may not leave Caulnedy, but that does not mean I don’t know a fair bit about the Isle and all the comings and goings. Your parents are said to be somewhat ridiculous, but you, I hear, have a good head on your shoulders. And you’re a lovely little thing as well. I’m certain Master Ash’s mother, dear Miss Mary, would have liked you immensely.” Her happy expression fell, a quiet sorrow entering her eyes. “God rest her soul, the poor dear.”
Bronwyn, not knowing what to say to that, glanced up at Ash. And was stricken by the deep grief that had etched itself into his features.
It quickly cleared, however, an impenetrable mask seeming to fall into place. “Mrs. Wheeler, Mr. Hugo,” he said, speaking to the housekeeper and butler, “if you would be so kind to introduce your staff to the duchess?”
“Of course, Your Grace,” the butler said, jumping forward and beginning the long process.
Sometime later—how long, Bronwyn hadn’t a clue, for her mind was still spinning with the incredible number of faces and names she had to learn—they entered the house. And she realized she had never seen the interior. Strange, that, as it was to be her home now.
Ash, too, seemed to realize as much as well. He paused in the front hall and looked down at her. “Would you like a tour of the house?” he asked quietly. “Or would you like to retire right away?”
It would be the proper thing to do, she supposed, to allow him or one of the many servants to introduce her to the house. She was now its mistress, as inconceivable as that might be. And as he had married her for the express purpose of having her take up residence here to care for his wards, she had best hit the ground running.
But as she gazed up at her new husband, the awkwardness of the past hour disappeared, replaced with an awareness of what they would be doing when they were alone together. In the space of a single heartbeat, she realized that she didn’t care about propriety. His kiss in her parents’ garden when she had accepted his proposal was still seared into her brain, and the memory of it had disturbed her sleep more than once over the past fortnight. All her questions and curiosities would be assuaged tonight with this man. And she found that she wasn’t prepared to wait a moment longer than necessary.
“I would very much like to retire,” she whispered.
He sucked in his breath, his eyes snagging on her lips, his cool expression transforming to one of deep hunger. For her?
And then her hand was in his, and he was guiding her up the stairs, and the only sound she could seem to hear was the mad pounding of her heart.
***