The Duke’s Shotgun Wedding(12)

But then, he was not a gentleman, as proclaimed by his own words.

She was nervous, even though she had nearly convinced herself there was nothing to be afraid about.

Nearly.

She gulped as heat rushed through her at the memory of her father’s talk. He had tried to tell her what to expect. She had been amazed, then stupefied as he had taken a seat before her, his complexion florid, and wheezing like a bellows. She had thought he was on the verge of a heart attack. Unfortunately, the only words he managed to utter did not reveal much about the act itself.

“Be brave,” he’d said. “Be brave.”

Then Mrs. Winthrop had not helped at all by telling her that she must not gainsay her husband, even if he wanted to do wicked and immoral things to her. Jocelyn could not imagine what could go on in a bed chamber that was wicked and immoral. She had rolled her eyes and said as much.

Mrs. Winthrop had then warned her in the most ominous voice, “Beware the devil’s trap, girl.”

She hadn’t known that Mrs. Winthrop had it in her to be so dark and gloomy.

She and Sebastian reached the landing without him speaking. He seemed lost in thought…possibly plotting the wicked and immoral things he would do to her. The idea sent an unbidden curl of excitement through her body.

He stopped at a massive oak door carved with an intricate design of a dragon. “Your lady’s maid will be here shortly to assist you.”

Without another word he spun around to leave.

“Wait!”

“Yes, Jocelyn?”

“Will you…um— Will we…?”

The sensual smile that creased his handsome face was her answer.

She inhaled shakily, wrenched open the door, and stumbled hastily into the room.

Immediately, her gaze zeroed in on the bed. Good lord. She had never seen a bed so massive. Fashioned of the finest exotic woods, it was raised on a dais, and surrounded by dark blue and silver drapes hung from a high wooden frame and gathered at the corners with silver cords.

She blinked as she studied the room. The sheer size of it was boggling, but the design exquisite. Persian carpets covered the floor and all the furniture was oak with the strange dragon motif emblazoned on them. The colors of the decor, from the carpet, the billowing drapes, and sofas, were shades of deep blue with silver. The elegance of the room awed her.

But— Surely this was not her chamber. She walked over to the bed and flushed at the garment splayed in its center. She lifted the pale blue chiffon peignoir and swallowed at its sheerness. She dropped it and stepped away from the bed.

She spun as the door opened and a maid swept in with a curtsy. “Yer Grace, I am Rose, your lady’s maid.”

“Hello Rose.” She smiled warmly, and started to unpin her hair as Rose hurried over to start unpacking her valise, which had somehow appeared.

“Would ye like a bath, Yer Grace?”

She gave her a tired nod, and sank into one of the sofas in the room. A moan slipped from her lips at the wonderful feel of the deep, soft cushions. Rose bustled with a jaunty kind of efficiency, disappearing several times into the adjoining room to prepare her bath.

“Are all the rooms this large, Rose?” Jocelyn called.

“No, Yer Grace, Mrs. Dudley says His Grace had this room specially designed.”

“Oh? Is the duke’s room just as large?”

She paused in rubbing the tightness from her neck at the bird-like look of inquiry that Rose threw her way.

“This is His Grace’s room, Yer Grace.”

Jocelyn surged to her feet, nervously searching the walls around her. “I do not see a connecting door to my own chamber.”

“There is no duchess’s chamber, Yer Grace.”

“I beg your pardon?” The look on Jocelyn’s face must have betrayed her shock.

Rose rushed to explain. “Mrs. Dudley says on account o’ His Grace’s parents’ cold marriage with lots o’ closed doors, he tore down the wall separatin’ the duchess chambers from this one, so they made one big room. Mrs. Dudley says it must be on account o’ the duke not wantin’ such a cold marriage.”

Trepidation surged through Jocelyn at this bit of information. “I see.” She remained quiet as Rose undressed her and led her to the bath chamber. “Oh, my!”

“It’s a beauty ain’t it? His Grace had it fixed up with the latest modern plumbin’ a few years ago.”

Jocelyn hastily stripped off her dressing gown, stepped into the marble Grecian bathtub, and sank into the welcome heat of the water. She rubbed the scented jasmine soap over her arms, neck, and chest, her mind swirling with the idea that Sebastian did not want a cold marriage with separate chambers from his wife. Still, it was never prudent to listen to servants’ gossip. For all she knew, he’d removed the walls and connecting door for some completely unrelated reason.