She sank deep into the tub, all but purring in enjoyment as the heat of the water soothed the tenseness from her body, and she savored the luxurious bath to its fullest.
She refused to dwell with fear on the coming night, when her new husband would return to the chamber…to do wicked and immoral things to her.
…
He’d acquired a duchess.
Standing at the open library window, Sebastian dipped his hand in his trouser pocket, touching the locket that Anthony had given her. A wry smile twisted his lips and he raised his glass in a mock toast to his mother and drank.
His mother had given Sebastian the locket several years ago, telling him to bequeath it to his duchess for a future daughter, as it had belonged to the first born females in her family for several generations. As turned off by the notion of marriage as he was, he had gifted it to a reluctant Anthony for his first born daughter, instead.
When the locket had clattered across his desk to him, Sebastian had been stunned to realize the feeling that powered through him at the sight of it was relief. The necklace was back in his possession. It had never occurred that the heirloom meant so much to him.
He had sworn never to marry, comfortable to pass his several entailments to Anthony, even though Sebastian knew that wasn’t a burden his brother wanted. Anthony wanted to live free, sail the oceans, and visit the Americas and the Caribbean with his Miss Peppiwell. He continually expounded to Sebastian that he wanted to be unencumbered, to live his life as he wished, not be shackled to a handful of family piles containing only bad memories.
Unfortunately, Sebastian shared the sentiment.
The clock in the library chimed, signaling the midnight hour. He wondered if Jocelyn had fallen into slumber. He had secluded himself in the room where he felt most comfortable, to give her time to prepare, and had become lost in his thoughts for at least an hour. Was she waiting on him with virginal anxiety clothed in the provocative peignoir he’d had his lawyer acquire for him in London? Or had she fallen asleep, too exhausted from the day’s events to care about her wedding night?
His mouth curled in disdain.
A virgin.
He took a healthy swallow of the whisky that burned all the way down, filling him with the warmth that was desperately needed in the library. He stood with the tall windows open, the chilly air whistling in, deep and biting. He could never understand why he liked the cold so much. The fireplace that roared behind him did little to dull the ache that filled his bones, its only purpose to shed light into the room. The wind howled, and flecks of snow blew in, stinging his face and neck.
Jocelyn had lied about Anthony seducing her. Sebastian detested liars. He took some comfort from the fact that she was completely transparent with her emotions. Indeed, he did not doubt that Anthony had teased and flirted with her, and even made promises of marriage. The necklace being in her possession showed that his brother had, at least momentarily, questioned the depth of his affections for Miss Peppiwell. But he had not bedded Jocelyn.
He might well have gone far enough for her to be deemed wholly compromised by society. But clearly, he had not even kissed her properly.
Sebastian muttered a curse as his cock came to life, and his grip on the whiskey glass tightened at the memory of the taste of her lips and her passionate response.
He understood Anthony’s slight defection from Miss Peppiwell. Jocelyn’s dark beauty was astonishing. Her skin was smooth and flawless, though her cheeks had been kissed by the sun, showing him she spent a lot of time outdoors. Her luxurious mane of raven hair with her storm-cloud eyes had a stunning effect on his senses. Yet, it was not her beauty that intrigued him. There were too many beauties in London, eager to been seen with him at balls and operas and desperate to be in his bed, for him to be enchanted by appearance. Beauty alone had never piqued his interest.
Jocelyn fascinated him. It was her fiery temperament that drew him most. He already knew she wasn’t a simpering fool. He had no time for the vain and frivolous women of society. He viewed the sweet-tempered, pliable young misses straight from the schoolroom with disdain. None would dare storm his estate and point a derringer at him, a duke, demanding the stain on her honor be satisfied.
The ton would be titillated to know that was how the arrogant Duke of Calydon had wed. The scandal would roar like an unquenchable fire.
Distaste curled his stomach at the fickleness of society. The scandal would die under the onslaught of his undeniable power. For he controlled the purse strings of many families through his investments. Days later, they would all simper to be seen with her, and be invited to the balls she would come to host. She would probably be declared “an original” for how she had snared him, where a less fortunate woman would be an outcast for life.