Four Nights With the Duke(16)

With deep respect,



I remain,



William Bucknell, Esq.

Brandy, Bucknell & Bendal, Publishers

Mia walked to Vander's study, trying to ignore the way her heart quickened due to her husband walking beside her.

The worst part of this whole affair-other than the fact she hated  herself for forcing Vander to marry her-was Mia's discovery that, even  given all the despair and humiliation and the years that had passed  since the poetry debacle, Vander was still able to make her feel . . .  something.

It wasn't infatuation. Of course not.

It must be animal lust. She had read about that somewhere. It was a  natural constituent of being a healthy animal, which she was.

Vander was the most healthy animal-or man-she'd ever known. In fact, he  appeared to be virtually bursting with life, his legs thick with muscle,  his skin darkened by the sun.

Her father had been handsome in a way that Vander was not. Her  husband-what an odd word-looked more like a boxer than a gentleman. He  would never coax his hair into a smooth wave, the way her father used  to. And his fingernails were not shaped and polished to a sheen.  Instead, his fingers were callused from holding reins.

They had entered the study, and Vander was saying something to her. She  looked up at him, confused. In that moment, watching his lips move  without comprehending what he was saying, she understood something very  important: her husband had the ability to break her.

Even though she had decided to loathe him after he mocked her poem, he had been her first love.

The weakness of a foolish girl, Mia reminded herself. The wanton side of  herself, if she wanted to call a spade a spade. She was a woman now and  knew a muscled stature was far less important than a kindly heart.

No one could call Vander kind. It took her a moment before she realized that he was waiting impatiently for a response.

"I'm sorry," she said. "What did you say?"

"I asked when your belongings will arrive. I have an important race on  the fifteenth, and I'd like to have you settled. I can send my men over  to Carrington House to gather your possessions, if you haven't already  made arrangements. Oh, and I gather they should collect your nephew. My  solicitor informed me yesterday afternoon that I now have a ward."

The last was uttered in a jaundiced manner that suggested he'd also been informed that Sir Richard Magruder was likely to sue.

Mia swallowed a sigh and sat down. The time had come. "I am fairly  certain that you did not read the letter summarizing my expectations for  our marriage."

"I didn't bother," Vander said, dropping down opposite her. "You should  know, Duchess, that a man is the master of his household. If I decided  that you should sleep in the attic, the butler would have a bed up there  before nightfall."

"There is no need to go to such extremes; the bed in the attic can wait  for your next wife. We only need be married for six months, at which  point Mr. Plummer, my solicitor, will arrange for annulment of our union      ." The details tumbled through her head in perfect order, rather like  one of her own plots. This was the cue for Vander to rejoice.

"What?"

"Mr. Plummer is a conservative man by nature, but he is hopeful that he  will be able to end this marriage by early next year. I have asked him  to pay a call on you tomorrow so he can explain the details."

Vander leaned forward, eyes glittering. "What are you talking about? You  forced me to marry you. You corralled me as deftly as I've ever broken a  horse."

He's like one of the great Norse gods, Mia thought with a literary  flourish. Acting as if he might whip out a lightning bolt and cleave her  in two. She wouldn't be surprised to hear a clap of thunder in the  distance.

She pulled her attention back to the subject at hand. "We needn't turn  this into a Cheltenham tragedy. We can simply go our own ways. Divorce  is allowed only in cases of infidelity or abandon-"                       
       
           



       

He cut her off. "You are planning to be unfaithful, before we've been married one day?"

When Vander set his jaw, he looked like a prizefighter about to take on  an opponent. His gaze seared her, but Mia didn't let herself be  intimidated by his anger. She knew instinctively that his fists might  curl, but he would never be violent.

"Of course not, Vander. I thought we could request an annulment."

"Vander?"

His voice lashed her. This was awful, just awful. She had momentarily  forgotten that while she thought of him by the nickname his friends gave  him, he scarcely remembered who she was.

"I apologize," she gasped. "Would you prefer Your Grace? Of course you'd  prefer Your Grace. You are a Your Grace." She was babbling, but she  couldn't seem to stop. "My mother died years ago and I have no idea how  married couples address each other in private. Not that we're truly  married. I just . . . I'm sorry."

A moment of ominous silence followed before he shoved a hand through his  hair. "It is I who should apologize. You caught me by surprise. No one  addresses me by that name other than my intimate friends."

"Of course," Mia said, forcing a smile. "You needn't apologize. And as I  said, my solicitor is fairly sure that he can have the marriage  dissolved in a mere six months. There's no need for us to become  intimate in any fashion at all." She drew out a folded sheet of paper  from her reticule. "I drew up another explanation once I concluded that  you hadn't read the letter I initially wrote you."

He took the sheet from her and skimmed it. "You want to marry me for six  months, after which the marriage will end. And you expect no financial  support either during or after the marriage."

"Yes, that's it," she said, making her tone bright. Now that he  understood, he could stop being angry. His eyes would probably fill with  joy.

Instead, his mouth tightened, and slowly, methodically, he ripped her letter into pieces and dropped them on the floor.

"What are you doing?" Mia gasped.

"I plan to go through that farce we endured in the chapel only once in my life."

"Why would you-what are you talking about?"

"Marriage. A mechanism by which two people are forced to remain in  proximity for a lifetime. The truth is that your proposal made me see  that a love match is the last thing in the world I'd want."

"But-"

"As we have discussed, you are not who I would have chosen for myself,"  he continued, his gaze drifting from her face to her shabby dress. "But  there was always the chance that I would have made my father's mistake,  and married a beautiful woman who would collect lovers the way squirrels  gather nuts."

Mia could feel her face growing hot. There was part of her, the part  that wrote love stories, that wanted to believe that not every man found  her unlovely. The shallow, naïve side of her.

She raised her chin a notch. "Be that as it may, I don't wish to remain  married to you. You may not dream of a loving marriage, but I do hope  for that someday. Your Grace." The last two words were spoken with a  touch of asperity.

He gave a crack of laughter. "You should have thought of that before you  blackmailed me into marriage, Duchess. It seems your scheme has turned  against you. I believe that is often the case."

She stared at him, trying to find words. He was serious. He meant to  keep her in the marriage. "Please," she said, beginning to feel  genuinely fearful. "I can see that you're angry at me, and I know I  deserve it. But mightn't we be reasonable about this? I will happily  offer proof of adultery, leaving both of us free to forget this marriage  happened."

"My mother spent the latter part of her life jaunting around the country  with another man, incidentally, your father." He leaned forward, his  words clipped and furious. "I am neither mad nor incapacitated. My wife  will live under my roof. She will never commit adultery."

Mia took a deep breath. "But I don't wish to live with you," she explained. "I don't consider us truly married."

A grim smile touched his lips. "The vicar who just married us would not agree."

Her heart was beating so quickly that she thought she might faint. "You  don't even want me around you. This is supposed to be a temporary  arrangement!"

"But it isn't."

"You can't mean that," she said desperately. "I'm sure that in time you  will meet another woman, one whom you will love. Remember? You told me  that it was likely to happen, and you're right."                       
       
           



       

"What difference will our marriage make?"