The Duchess's Next Husband

Miranda paled a bit at his words. “I do not believe that she does. I try to keep certain facets of my life out of her view.”

“Still critical, then?” he asked.

“Always.”

Miranda began to turn back to her food when he asked another question. “Then why do you visit her each week? Surely you do not enjoy being in her company?” He knew of no one, from his long deceased father to the now highly touted Miss Stevenson, who could tolerate his mother’s overwhelming ways.

“It is one of the duties I carry out as Duchess of Windmere. She has invited me for a weekly appointment and I attend. Like so many other obligations, not one of my choosing, but mine nonetheless.”

In other words, no matter how unpleasant or odious the duty, she would strive to hold up her end of the bargain. He had never thought about what she had been going through these last years as he’d been learning and taking over the reins of one of the largest and now most profitable estates in England. With each passing week and month, she’d seemed more self-assured and busy, so he’d never pursued any explanation. His mother had confirmed that Miranda was applying herself to the tasks facing her.

He leaned back in his chair and continued eating, although he would never be able to identify any of the foods he put in his mouth. He could only suspect that this change within him was brought about by the knowledge of his impending death. If he had not been forced to examine his conscience and his life, he would never have comprehended how Miranda’s own life was so different for her.

She would have gone on, fulfilling her duties, attending to the call of his mother, living a separate life, and he would have been completely unaware.

And now? Now that changes to their lives, to their marriage even, would matter not? Was it fair to her to let her go on believing that she would continue as duchess?

“Now it is Windmere’s turn to look ill.”

Parker’s voice broke into Adrian’s reverie. “Me? Do I look ill?” He tried to shake off the discomfort his friend’s perusal had caused. “I am well.”

“The duchess did the same thing last evening. Turned pea-green and looked like she would topple into her soup bowl.” Parker then grimaced at the words he’d chosen and nodded to Miranda. “Beg your pardon, madam, but you did.”

“I assure you all that I am well, and I thank you for your concern. Now, if everyone is finished, shall we move to the drawing room for dessert and coffee? Or tea if the ladies wish?” Adrian stood. “I suspect that Parker will need something more fortifying to prepare him for his challenge.”

The rector laughed. “I do not approve, as a whole, of games of chance, but having seen the duchess’s abilities firsthand, I shall look on this as a defense of honor.”

Parker appeared irritated now.

The Graysons, claiming the lateness of the hour and the journey back to their home, took their leave before the announced match, so Adrian found himself once more to the side, watching his wife. She moved gracefully around the billiard table, sighting and lining up her shots and leaning over to shoot. He found himself watching the arch of her neck, the curve of her hips and the way she blew out of her pursed lips to move the single curl that seemed to land in her eyes no matter how many times she tucked it away.

Soon, she held him in thrall. His body reacted as though he’d not had a woman in months. His groin tightened and he shifted his position to ease it. Her throaty laughter and light but not inappropriate jesting with Parker were added enticements. Adrian had not thought to feel this kind of passion for her again, not when their relations had become routine and he had found another woman who kindled fires within him.

Now, his wife had him burning to bury himself in her warm, willing body and seek some satisfaction—or solace?—within her. If he had not thought himself changed by the revelations of the last week, he knew it now.

Bringing his attention back to the game, he watched as Parker struggled to keep his lead after several skillful shots by Miranda. She was about to win. Parker was no longer taking the game and the win for granted, and his face became red as he tried harder to stay ahead of her. The last shot was hers and both men waited to see her take the win in this challenge. Adrian had no doubt that Parker, the aplomb necessary to win now dwindling, would be a gracious loser. He hoped.

Miranda took her place and bent over to get closer to the ball. With a slight hesitation, she drew back her stick and then sent it skidding on the felt, barely touching the ball, which spun several times but did not move any closer to the target. Her turn over, Parker jumped into position, made his shot and shouted loudly as the ball dropped into the net under the corner pocket of the table.

“By Jove! That was a wonderful game, Duchess. I had no idea that you would be such a piece of competition.” Parker strode over to her side, lifted her hand to his mouth and kissed it. “My compliments on a game well played!”

Adrian could no longer hold in his mirth. Parker either had no idea of how close he’d come to disaster or was ignoring it. Laughing loudly, Adrian walked to her side, lifting her now-released hand to his own mouth. “My compliments as well, Miranda.” He kissed it and then added, “For allowing my deluded friend to believe he won!”

Miranda, he could see, fought a smile and stuttered out some words, but Parker growled in indignation. “Allowing? Allowing me to win? I do not believe it!”

“My lord, the win was obvious to all of us. Skillful play, as you said.”

Adrian noticed that she never said it was Parker who’d played skillfully. A nice evasion and just the thing to save a man’s self-esteem. She smiled then and the heat rose in him. He wanted to kiss her, to taste her mouth and to touch his lips to hers, not something they did often.

“Parker, if you will excuse us? Her Grace mentioned that she would like to retire immediately after your game.”

He waited for her to deny his words, but she did not. Instead she nodded at Parker and handed her stick to the footman to return to the rack on the wall. Then, as Adrian held out his arm, she took it and walked by his side from the room. Not certain of the reason for his actions, he said not a word as they proceeded up the stairs and down the corridor that led to their chambers.

So many things ran through his mind, but his body knew only one—he wanted her. If she felt the growing tension, she did not reveal the fact. She walked at his side, matching her step to his, until they reached her door. He turned to face her, wondering what her reaction would be to him visiting her bed on other than a Thursday evening.

“My thanks for not embarrassing him too badly, Miranda,” he said, smiling. “Parker’s mistake was in underestimating you.”

“Was that a compliment, Windmere?” she asked, tilting her head to meet his gaze. Searching his face, her eyes narrowed as she continued. “Or do you feel duped, as well?”

“I do feel hoodwinked, now that you speak of it. I had no idea of your conquests here,” he said, stepping closer to her. “I had no idea of your abilities in other than social situations.” He lifted his hand to touch her cheek. Her eyes closed for a moment as though savoring his caress, and then she stared at him with a sort of terrified fascination. “I had no idea of the enticing woman you’d become while I was looking away.”

He slid his hand around her neck and brought her closer. He hesitated for a moment, waiting for any sign that his attentions were unwelcome, and then claimed the lips and mouth of a woman he’d known and yet not known for years. Her mouth softened beneath his, much as her body did when he joined with her, and she leaned into him as he tasted and kissed her, over and over.

Adrian took another step, bringing him in close contact and placing her between the closed chamber door and his body. Now he held her face with both his hands and covered her lips with his. He felt her hands creep up to his arms, not in deterrence, but in encouragement. A noise from inside the room startled them both into realizing where they stood, and he released her slowly from his grasp, taking several more kisses from her caress-swollen lips.

“Your pardon, Miranda. I…” he began, but could come up with no words of true apology. He wanted her, he wanted her now, and the fact that they were standing in the hall within sight of anyone, any servant or guest who chose to walk there, be damned! He cleared his throat and started again. “I would join you in your chambers. If you have no objections?”

Would she refuse him? He would never force himself or his attentions on her, but prayed in the next several seconds that she would not rebuff his request.

“If you would give me a few minutes to prepare, I will be ready for your…” Now it was her turn to trip over her words, and he lightened inside. She looked away and then back at him. As he watched, the tip of her tongue slid out and moistened her lips as though they had gone dry. A pulsation of desire racked his body and he found that his breathing was becoming too quick.

“I shall visit you in a quarter hour, if that is acceptable?” How he forced the words out, he would never know.

She nodded and then reached for the doorknob. He did not move as she stepped backward into her room, closing the door in a swift but quiet movement. He wrestled with the passion that flowed through him and leaned against the wall next to her door, waiting to regain some measure of control before moving away.

A quarter hour was not too long a wait.

Miranda closed the door and rested her head on it, not daring to turn toward her waiting maid. She knew her cheeks were flushed and that her lips were swollen from Adrian’s attentions. But the worst, the absolute worst, was that her breasts were also swollen and her nipples tight and hard, and she could feel the friction of them rubbing against her shift, above the stays that held her breasts in place.