For Love of the Duke(55)

Katherine fisted her hands at her side.

Jasper looked at Katherine. “Are you all right, Katherine?”

Her mouth tightened.

With the exception of the fiery jealousy that ripped through her usually calm sensibilities, she was perfectly fine.

She nodded, and followed Jasper and the innkeeper abovestairs. He led them down a narrow hall and stopped beside one door. “Your Grace,” he murmured to Katherine, and held the door open.

Katherine peeked inside.

Yes, she’d well learned that one should not formulate an opinion of a book on the mere title alone…and yet, in this regard, it would appear Fire and Brimstone was in fact an apt moniker.

A colorful, albeit tattered coverlet was turned down at the corner of the wide-bed at the center of the room. The nightstand with a broken leg and small, deeply scratched vanity were, otherwise, the only pieces of furniture.

She became aware of Jasper and the innkeeper studying her with intent expressions. “It is lovely,” she said to the proprietor who beamed with her praise.

“Please have a bath readied for Her Grace, and a meal.”

Katherine warmed at the gentle consideration her husband was showing her, and watched as the innkeeper hurried off.

Alone in the confines of the too-small room, she suddenly became aware that this, wintry cold, starless night was in fact, her wedding night. Her mouth went dry, and she peered up at her husband.

“Is there anything else you require, Katherine?”

She shook her head. At least she didn’t think she required anything. With the exception of a hurried, heavily veiled conversation with her mother about instruments and matters of wifely duty, Katherine had little idea what to expect in terms of the marriage bed.

Oh, Aldora, whyever did you not come to London earlier? Katherine sighed. Of course her sister and brother-in-law had wee Lizzie, their now two-year-old daughter to consider. Still, it would have been quite helpful if Aldora had been around to have a…a…talk with Katherine about what would unfold this night.

“Katherine?” Jasper said softly.

She jumped. “No. Nothing. I require nothing. At all. Other than the bath, of course, and the meal you arranged, Jasper.” Katherine bit the inside of her cheek and willed herself to silence.

His eyes moved over her face a moment, and then with a clipped bow, he took his leave.

Katherine stared at the closed door behind him. She shrugged out of her cloak and, wandering over toward the bed, tossed the garment at the mattress. The emerald green muslin landed in a noisy, fluttering heap upon the heavily nicked wood floor.

She smoothed her palms over the front of the gown she’d worn during her wedding.

Lady Katherine, the Duchess of Bainbridge.

The title of duchess might mean a good deal to so many, but Katherine remained wholly unimpressed by her new title. She was no different than the woman she’d been prior to speaking those vows in the office of her home. Nay, her former home.

Only, she caught her lower lip between her teeth, perhaps she might feel differently when her husband returned and made their marriage official.

Katherine sank into the mattress, and the old bed creaked in protest.

Jasper had insisted they leave her maid behind, and now Katherine was left to wonder if her husband intended to see to her disrobing himself.

Oh, dear. Katherine fanned herself, as she was filled with a sudden nervous anticipation.

She sat. And waited for her husband to return.



Jasper had spent the better part of two hours drinking the fine ale, and eating the roasted beef at the Fire and Brimstone Inn.

The serving wench stopped beside his table. “Would you care for more, Your Grace?” she murmured in a husky whisper that promised lusty delights. She held up the tankard between the very generous mounds of her enormous breasts that spilled over the blousy white shirt she wore.

Jasper shook his head, and returned his stare to the tabletop.

He’d not had a woman since Lydia, and the overblown, fleshiness of the obvious servant did not inspire any grand desire as he expected it should.

Instead, his mind drifted to the lean, spirited vixen who now occupied a room abovestairs.

Jasper waved the serving girl back over, and motioned for her to refill his glass.

She leaned forward. “Is there anything else I can get you, Your Grace?” she whispered.

He considered her a moment. Most men, especially men who’d been without a woman for more than four years, would have been seduced by her plump form and breathy words.

But some matter of madness had taken him over, where all he wanted, all he desired was his new wife. Jasper shook his head and took a long swallow. She shuffled off.

What had Lady Katherine Adamson done to him? No, not Lady Katherine Adamson. Her Grace, the Duchess of Bainbridge.