A Matter of Temptation (3 page)

The servant had yet to take a full measure of him, and when he did…

He was a duke now. Closing his eyes, he drew on the memories of his father’s commanding voice. His father had never left any doubt as to who was in charge, even before he inherited the dukedom from
his
father. Self-assured, confident. Robert simply had to follow his father’s example and teachings now. He felt calmness descend over him. He could do this. He
would
do it. He opened his eyes.

“I should like to take a ride in the park this morning,” he said. “See to having my horse readied.”

The servant turned slightly, his brow creased to such an extent that it seemed to roll his balding pate forward, and Robert easily determined that he was hesitant to speak.

“What is it, man?” he demanded to know—impatiently, as his father had when a servant was slow to respond.

“With all due respect, Your Grace, I’m not certain you have time for a ride this morning.”

“Whyever not? Is there some pressing appointment that can’t be put off?”

“Only your wedding, Your Grace.”

N
ow that the moment had actually arrived, Torie Lambert wished that it hadn’t. An unfortunate realization that she could hardly reconcile with the excitement she’d felt only last night as she’d prepared for bed. For months she’d been eagerly anticipating her wedding to the Duke of Killingsworth. The problem as she saw it now was that she was no longer certain she was anticipating the marriage. A strange notion indeed, but there you had it.

With a sigh, she started at her reflection in the cheval glass while her lady’s maid fluttered around her like a butterfly that couldn’t quite determine where to alight, touching up Torie’s dark brown hair, adjusting the wreath of orange blos
soms that held the veil of Honiton lace in place, tittering about how lovely she appeared on this most special of all days.

Torie couldn’t deny that it was a special day, which was the very reason that it seemed incredibly odd to find herself suddenly filled with such doubt. Her engagement and the upcoming wedding were the talk of London: how she, an untitled landowner’s daughter, had managed to snag the most eligible—not to mention very nicely titled—bachelor among the peerage. They gossiped about the affair as though she’d done something special, and for the life of her, she could think of nothing exceptional she’d done other than smile at the duke and carry on conversations that, for the most part, seemed to delight him.

She was incredibly fond of Killingsworth, but what did she truly know about him? He was exceptionally good at charades, was a fine dancer, and enjoyed long walks. Ah, yes, and he was undeniably handsome. Not that she thought a gorgeous face was a quality to take into account when selecting a husband, but it certainly didn’t hurt matters that he was incredibly pleasing to gaze upon.

He had the most astonishing blue eyes, and while they seldom sparkled with merriment, as he was a decidedly serious fellow, they did make her feel special when he gazed at her with such intensity that oftentimes she would blush beneath his scrutiny. He never revealed what he was thinking
at times such as those, as if he might be embarrassed by his own thoughts, and she often wondered if he was thinking about the same thing as she: what it might be like to truly kiss each other.

He was so terribly proper, had never kissed any part of her other than her glove-covered hand—not even when he’d asked for that very hand in marriage—and yet tonight…well, tonight he might very well kiss a good deal more with no material to separate his lips from her skin.

She warmed at the thought of such intimacy and wondered if perhaps that was the source of her unease. The realization that very soon she would become embarrassingly intimate with a man she liked extremely well, but didn’t love. Or at least she didn’t think she loved him. Shouldn’t love be all-consuming?

Of course, she’d been thinking of her wedding every moment of every day for the past six months, but she hadn’t truly been thinking of her betrothed. Had she?

She’d thought of gowns, and petticoats, and veils, and invitations, and her trousseau. She’d been so overwhelmed with the details of the wedding that she’d given hardly a thought to the particulars of her marriage or her wedding night. And now that the moment she’d worked toward was finally upon her, she felt it had arrived far too soon, before she was completely ready for so monumental a step. Quite honestly, she was scared silly.

“Victoria, do stop frowning. It completely ruins the appearance of your gown,” her mother admonished, standing off to the side, her hands positioned on the wide hips that had served her well when she’d borne her two daughters, her feet spread apart like those of a ship captain who thought none would disobey him. “Your father paid a princely sum for your attire. Your gown and veil look very much like the ones Queen Victoria wore the day she married her dear Albert.”

Her mother’s adoration of the queen was irritating at times. Honestly, one would think Britain had never had a female monarch before. And everyone’s husband was a dear except for her own mother’s.

“Everything is lovely, Mother, and I do appreciate that Father went to such expense to make this day memorable. It’s only…” She let her voice trail off. It was too late.

“Spit it out, girl.”

Torie attempted to inhale a deep breath but the whalebone corset prevented even the smallest of breaths. She released two tiny ones before confessing, “I’m having second thoughts concerning the wedding.”

“But you selected the loveliest of flowers and ribbons,” her seventeen-year-old sister said, standing off to the side.

“Diana, I’m not talking about the details of the trimmings. I’m talking about the actual wedding, the exchange of vows, the becoming a wife.”

Her mother snorted in a most unladylike manner that more closely resembled her common roots than her present station in life. “Bit late for that, my girl.”

Torie had hoped for advice a tad more enlightening. After all, her mother had far more experience with men, marriage, and…duty to one’s husband.

“Mother, I’ve been so busy preparing for the wedding that I really haven’t had time to prepare for the marriage. Unfortunately, now it occurs to me that I’m not quite certain I love him.” That admission sounded awful, so she quickly amended it. “Or at least not as deeply as I should.”

Brushing her maid aside, her mother moved up to stand beside Torie and began tugging on the gown here and there as though she thought if it were fluffed out a bit more, she could rearrange the worry lines on her daughter’s face as well.

“Love is highly overrated,” her mother said. “The best a woman can hope for is a man who is kind, generous with a spending allowance, and quick when it comes to taking care of his husbandly duties in bed.”

In the mirror, Torie caught a glimpse of Diana dropping her mouth open in astonishment at the unexpected vulgarity spoken. Like Diana, Torie knew that one simply didn’t mention what passed between a man and woman beneath the
sheets. Well, at least not loud enough for anyone to hear.

Torie quickly clamped her own mouth shut. She licked her lips and dared to say what she and her friends had once whispered among themselves. “I thought the marriage act took all night.”

“Dear heavens, no. If a lady is fortunate, her husband will be finished in fewer than ten minutes.”

“And if she isn’t fortunate?”

“Then it becomes a matter of endurance. However, your young duke appears to be a most virile man. I’m certain he’ll require no time at all to get the job done, so I see no point in worrying over a situation which is unlikely to occur.” Her mother began waving her hands in front of her face, as though she’d suddenly become heated and needed cooling off. “Oh, I shouldn’t be speaking of such personal matters.”

“But you should.” Torie spun around and faced her mother. “I have no earthly idea what to expect. I have a vague notion, but I’m not entirely certain exactly what transpires between a man and a woman after they’re married and the lamps are dimmed.

Her mother began waving her hands more frantically. “It’s too private to speak of.”

“Lovely. Now I’m terrified with the prospect of experiencing something that a mother can’t even speak to her daughter about.”

Her mother stilled her hands, her brow pleating as she studied her firstborn for what seemed an eternity. Finally she reached out to cradle Torie’s cheek. Her smile was almost sad. “You’ll learn soon enough what it’s all about, but I assure you that you have no reason to be frightened. The act is merely an inconvenience that prevents you from going to sleep as soon as you might like.”

“Does it hurt?”

“Only a bit and only the first time or two as a woman’s body learns to accommodate a man’s.”

“Perhaps there should be a school for such things,” Diana piped up.

Torie’s mother heaved a sigh. “Diana—”

“Well, honestly, Mother, if a body must
learn
, the best place is at school, is it not? What if a woman’s body can’t learn to accommodate a man’s? And what is there to accommodate?”

Torie fought not to smile at her sister’s teasing, while her mother’s cheeks turned a bright red. “I’m really not comfortable discussing this subject. After all, it is your father with whom I do it, and it is a very private matter. I’m sure the duke will make everything most pleasant.”

“But does he love me?” Torie asked, returning to the serious side of her concerns.

“I believe he cares a great deal about you.”

“But caring isn’t love.”

“Try having love without caring, my girl. You’ll find that it doesn’t work so well.”

Torie had no doubt that the duke cared, but she
often worried that he cared more about the money and land that marriage to her would bring him. Her father was a landed gentleman who owned four thousand acres that provided him with a very comfortable income, comfortable enough that her dowry made her quite the catch and allowed Torie to wander in circles closed to her family until recently. Her mother had been quick to make certain that the aristocracy realized that her elder daughter brought a large fortune to a marriage.

Torie had always wanted a suitable marriage, but now she feared she’d set her goals too low. Suitable. It sounded so boring.

She couldn’t deny that comfort existed in her relationship with the duke, but not an ounce of passion. No true excitement, no wonderment. She’d experienced more joy in selecting her gown than in accepting his proposal of marriage. The past few months had been a whirlwind of meetings with dressmakers and stationers and cooks and florists. She’d hardly had time to take a breath, much less to realize that the anticipation she felt as each decision was made wasn’t experienced when she thought of spending the remainder of her life with the duke. And what if it was a long life?

“Do you love Papa?” she asked.

“I’m quite fond of your father. He has treated me well all these years, and as I’ve stated, that’s the most any woman can hope for.”

“It doesn’t seem enough. Now that I’m standing at the threshold of marriage, it quite simply doesn’t seem enough.”

Until that moment, Torie hadn’t realized that fondness wasn’t love. But then what was love? An elusive feeling she had yet to experience. Oh, she loved her parents, loved her sister, but she couldn’t say that she’d ever loved a man to whom she didn’t share a familial bond. Didn’t love require time to develop, to come to fruition? Shouldn’t one wonder how one might survive if the object of her affection were no longer there?

Her mother heaved a deep sigh as though she were lifting a trunk filled with nothing but troubles. “I daresay you’ve been reading too much Jane Austen of late. You’re confusing the romantic love found in her silly novels with the reality of love in a marriage. It would be best if young ladies were not allowed to read books that created an unrealistic view of courtship.”

“I must say that I absolutely
adore
Mr. Darcy,” Diana said, pressing her fist to her heart, a dreamy look coming over her face. “Such a tormented soul.”

“He was a man with too much pride,” her mother said. “Which was the whole point of the story.”

“I disagree. The whole point was for Elizabeth to fall madly in love with him and for him to fall madly in love with her.”

“Nonsense. A woman does not seek love. She
seeks an advantageous marriage, which your sister has accomplished far beyond my expectations. I’d hoped for a viscount, and here your sister has snagged a duke. If you were wise, girl, you’d follow her example.”

“I’m never getting married,” Diana announced with resolute certainty as she plopped into a chair.

An expression of unbridled horror crossed her mother’s face. “Don’t speak such rubbish. Of course you’ll marry.”

“No, I won’t. Why settle for one man? How can you ever be certain which one is the
one
man with whom you should spend the remainder of your life? Each man is so very different from the others. Today I might want a man who is filled with gaiety, and tomorrow I might be in the mood for one who is a bit more pensive.”

“I think you should concern yourself with finding a man who is content with a woman who doesn’t know her own mind.”

Torie bit back her laughter as Diana worked to lighten the somber mood that Torie had inflicted upon them. Her sister had such an uncanny gay outlook on life, and she so loved goading their mother, who was always so easily provoked.

“Come now, Mama,” Diana said. “Having one man in your life is very much like having the same dish served at every meal. It becomes boring after a time, no matter that you began requesting it because it was your favorite. You grow weary of it.”

“Good heavens! Whatever has gotten into you to speak of such ludicrous things?”

“I just don’t know how a lady can determine today what she’ll be in the mood for tomorrow.”

“You’re talking nonsense!”

Torie, on the other hand, was beginning to fear that her sister had touched on the heart of the matter. She wanted something different from what she was being served, but the meal had already been prepared. She could hardly send the dish back to the kitchen without offending the cook.

“What if after she’s married,” her sister began, “Torie meets a man she likes far better than she does her duke? What is she to do then?”

“It is a chance one takes when one accepts an offer of marriage, which is the very reason one shouldn’t be hasty in accepting.”

“But what is she to do?”

“She forgets about the other man, the one to whom she is not married.”

“Did you ever meet someone and wish you’d married him instead of Papa?” Diana asked.

Her mother briefly closed her eyes. “You girls will be the death of me.” She opened her eyes and pinned each daughter with a hard-edged glare. “We will dispense with this nonsense immediately. Victoria is marrying a very likable fellow.”

Torie didn’t miss the fact that her mother had failed to answer the question her sister had posed. Had someone else come along later? What
would Torie do under a similar circumstance? If she wasn’t love with the duke, then it seemed likely that she could meet someone else…and she would absolutely hate it because she wouldn’t be untrue to her vows or her husband, which meant she would be untrue to her heart. Neither choice seemed quite fair.