The Duke’s Shotgun Wedding(11)

Jocelyn smiled at her father. Thank goodness he did not condemn her for her actions. Her heart beat with enough trepidation already—that the duke would hold her in contempt after their wedding night. After all, if she had been seduced as she’d sworn, the matter of her virginity should not be a problem anymore. She wondered if he would be able to tell. She frowned thoughtfully. Could men tell? They must be able to. It would be foolhardy for the men of society to value a thing so greatly, and have no way of proving if the value is still intact. She could not ask her father, she was already mortified by discussing a simple kiss with him.

“I worry for you, my dear. I do not believe the duke is a man to trifle with. He has the power to crush you if you are not careful. His reputation may just be a rumor…it has been years since I’ve heard him spoken of, other than regarding his miraculous touch with investments.”

“What have you heard, father? Back when the scandal happened.” At his hesitation, she implored, “I return to him tonight. Please do not let me go in doubt.”

After the deepest of sighs, he answered, “Rumors circulated of a duel, of a mistress that he strangled with his bare hands, and of the duke himself being murdered. The fact that he is clearly still alive could well mean they were all just foul rumors.”

The room spun around her as a sick feeling roiled in her stomach. “Oh.”

“It is an uncertain future that you have bound yourself to, my child,” he said, his gaze filled with concern. “Just be careful.”

“I will.” She eased out the breath that had backed up in her lungs. “To know that Victoria, Emily, and Emma will all have seasons and dowries, that Stonehaven will be made solvent for William…” Her smile wobbled as her father tenderly cupped her cheeks with his hands.

“You take too much upon yourself.”

“Oh, Papa , to know that my little loves and you will now be safe and happy, that all makes it much more palatable to have married a man who may or may not have been involved in murder.” She gripped his hands so fiercely that her father laughed, pulled her close, and hugged her tightly.

“My sweet child.”

“What’s done is done. You mustn’t worry. I will not let rumors of the past affect me, and I will resolve to be as happy as I can be with my new husband.”

A sharp pang went through her heart. She could only hope the man she married would feel the same about her when he learned the truth.





Chapter Four

Snow crunched beneath Jocelyn’s boot heels as she alighted from the chaise.

Only a few lamps were lit in the courtyard, and they barely pierced the gray fog that blanketed the night. She almost stumbled at the line of servants that had assembled on the steps to greet her. The wind howled, and even through her winter coat, the cold bit at her bones. She shivered and pulled the cloak tighter, warding off the icy chill. She knew it was customary for the servants to be introduced to their new mistress, now the lady of the house, but she thought it unnecessary that they were lined up in the cold waiting for her.

Calydon appeared like a specter from the mist and stalked toward her. Images of a murdered mistress floated suddenly in her mind, and she tried to banish her dark thoughts. Without success.

A strange kind of dread gripped her, and she was barely aware when he introduced her to his staff as his new duchess. Her smile was wooden, and she went through the motions with a loud thundering in her head. It was only when she was swept through the massive hall that she realized it was her heartbeat pounding in her ears.

“Have you dined?” Sebastian asked politely.

She jumped, betraying her nervousness. “I did, Your Grace.”

“Ah.”

She felt compelled to fill the silence that pressed on so ominously. “I am sorry I’m a bit late in arriving…home. I needed to spend some time with my family preparing them for my sudden absence. My sisters are quite attached to me, even though I must admit they vibrated with excitement over the happy circumstances.”

His only response was a grunt.

Her knees weakened as they started to climb the winding staircase. She glanced wildly behind her, but nary a servant was in sight. Did he mean to escort her straight to the bedding chamber? It was impossible to slow her racing heart. She was not sure what emotion filled her most at the thought of being ravished—dread or curiosity.

I am looking forward to our wedding night.

Since she hoped that meant he was prepared to enjoy it, she decided on curiosity.

She would not believe a gentleman would lead her straight to the event after travelling for hours in the chaise. Not without time to ready herself.