He didn’t want this life, yet here he would stay until they carried him out in a box…
The morning stretched to afternoon, the lunch tray that Mrs. Tenner delivered still left untouched as the shadows grew in the room. Nicholas buried himself in the work, carefully poring over the ledgers left behind by his father’s steward and answering correspondence from London.
When the room finally darkened, he stood and stoked the fire, watching as the flames consumed the wood. Nicholas knew that any other man in his position would be eagerly making his way to his chamber and preparing himself to consummate his marriage, but his feet would not move from the spot. He was rooted before the flames, protected by the four walls of the study and the closed door to his right.
Stalking over to the crystal decanters, Nicholas selected a fine brandy and poured a glass, savouring the sweetness on his lips. Tonight was his wedding night, but he would be spending it in this study and not in the arms of his lovely bride. He couldn’t imagine subjecting anyone to the pain and horrors that lived on inside his mind, the images that took over as soon as he closed his eyes.
He was a broken man, one not fit to have any happiness in his life. Nicholas was to forever suffer for his failures, for Peter’s death, for the deaths of his men, for the death of his…of John.
He might have been given the medals and accolades of a man with a worthy career, but he felt even less like the celebrated hero than he did the Duke of Blackmore.
Sighing, Nicholas carried his drink over to the leather chair before the fire and settled in for the night. Tonight, was like every other. The ghosts of his past would infiltrate his mind and have him paralyzed with fear and anguish, just when he was most vulnerable.
That was not something for any young bride to see or hear. Eventually he would have to pay a visit to her bed if he wished to produce an heir, but right now, Nicholas couldn’t be soused enough to do so.
Besides, she’d just found herself sold and married to a man who had done nothing but sneer at her. Nicholas imagined the last thing she wished to see was him grunting above her, taking his liberties because he’d put a ring on her finger.
He downed his brandy, relishing the burning deep down inside his chest, then leaned back and closed his eyes.
If he was lucky, the nightmares wouldn’t wake the whole household.
Chapter Six
The sunlight blinded Grace as she opened her eyes, taking a few moments to look at the unfamiliar room. It was lovely, with the soft colours of blue and green in the wallpaper matching the sumptuous blue carpet covering the floors. When Mrs. Tenner had shown her the room, Grace had nearly laughed aloud at the absurd thought that it was larger than all her sisters’ rooms put together.
The bed was large enough for all seven of her sisters as well and it had taken Grace some time to get used to the softness under her body as she’d lain there, waiting on her husband.
Her cotton gown had suddenly seemed silly as she’d donned it for his arrival, wishing she’d had something a bit more, well, fitting for a duke, something that made her feel truly beautiful.
Not that it mattered. The door that she presumed connected their two bedchambers had remained closed all night and in the bright morning light, Grace felt like a fool to even think that he would come to her room. Their marriage had been nothing more than a business arrangement and while she had not been privy to the real reason the Duke had married her, it certainly wasn’t because he wished to be in her company.
A frustrated breath left her lungs and Grace threw aside the heavy coverlet, sitting on the side of the bed. While she didn’t want to be married any more than her husband did, they were tied together for the rest of their lives. The heavy ring on her finger told her so. She had to assume the Duke wished for an heir. Why else would he bother taking a wife? And for her, the only thing that could possibly make the arrangement even remotely tolerable was for her to have a child.
While she might not be an expert in matters of the flesh, she knew there was no chance of that if her husband did not actually come to her bed. Somehow, she had to change that.
Which meant she needed to learn about her husband, about his likes and dislikes as well the real reason he hadn’t sought out her bed on their wedding night.
After rummaging through her meagre belongings, Grace quickly dressed and tied her hair back in a simple ribbon before hurrying out of her room and down the hallway, trying not to gawk at the finery surrounding her. It was hard for her to believe that this was her home now, that these were her possessions.
That she was the Duchess of Blackmore.
As she descended the stairs, she heard voices coming from an open door, one of which sounded suspiciously like her new husband.
What should she say to him?
Would he even talk to her this morning? Grace wondered if he’d ever be able to give her a look that did not equate to a frown. Mayhap now was the time to find out.
She gently pushed the door wider, the faint smell of tobacco wafting out of the room as she did so. Her husband was seated behind a large desk, with a small man in one of the chairs in front, both men discussing the ledger that was open before them. “This cannot be accurate,” the Duke was stating, his long finger
