His Accidental Duchess (Regency Wedding Crashers #1)

Chapter 22

CHAPTER 22

“ H ome it is, then, wife.”

“Mama says that coincidences are rarer than people think.”

Anna woke up slowly, leisurely. She cracked open an eye and found herself staring up at her now-familiar canopy. Her bed felt a little different, and it took her a moment to realize that it was because she was lying on the wrong side of her bed, and at an angle.

Her head—neatly cushioned by her favorite pillow—was resting on a spot about halfway down the mattress, near the edge, and she lay almost widthways on the bed. Her ankles dangled over the mattress, and she tucked her cold toes back into the warmth of the blankets.

In doing so, she brushed against a warm, still form.

The events of last night came rushing back—the opera, which they’d only seen half of, the bouncing carriage, that feeling, and the way she and Theo had tiptoed through a dark and silent house to her room, a bottle of wine clutched in each fist, muffling giggles.

Anna propped herself up on her elbows, peering at the man who had shared her bed.

Her husband .

Theo was sleeping on his side, facing the center of the bed. He curled up into a surprisingly small ball, which was why Anna had been able to take up so much space without disturbing him. Now that he was asleep, his face was smooth and peaceful. He looked much younger, and a wave of affection swept through Anna.

She nudged him with her foot. “Wake up, sleepyhead.”

He groaned, his face burrowing into the pillow. “It’s too early. It cannot be morning.”

“I’m afraid it is, and we drank two full bottles of wine last night.”

“Now that I can believe.”

He rolled onto his back, stretching like a cat. A grin spread across his face, and a shiver of desire ran down Anna’s spine.

“Did you sleep well?” she said, instead of giving in to the urge to giggle like a schoolgirl.

He chuckled. “I certainly did. We must go to the opera more often, I think.”

There was no missing the suggestion in his voice, and Anna felt her cheeks flushing.

“I do love the opera.”

Tilting his head to the side, he beckoned her over. Before she could think twice, Anna crawled up the length of the bed to flop down on the pillows beside him. He was naked, and she herself was wearing only the flimsiest chemise. Warmth radiated from his bare skin, and Anna wanted nothing more than to draw her fingertips over the swell of his arms and up to his delightfully broad shoulders.

And why should she not? He was her husband, she was his wife. They were in their bed.

Your bed, piped up a small voice in the back of her head. Wasn’t that one of his rules? That you should stay out of his rooms? Of course he didn’t take you back to his bed.

That dampened her mood just a little, but Anna put the troublesome thought aside, instead leaning up to kiss him. He bent down his head towards her.

Their lips were a hairsbreadth apart when a knock sounded at the door.

Anna flinched, tugging the bedsheets up to her neck. Theo gave a snort of amusement.

“Anna?” came a horrifyingly familiar, childish voice.

Anna shot Theo a terrified glance. “Did you lock the door?” she hissed.

The amusement in Theo’s eyes fizzled out once he realized that his daughter was about to barge into the room.

“Of course,” he murmured. “Does she usually come to your room at this hour?”

“No!”

“Forgive me, Your Grace,” came Martha’s muffled voice, “but Lady Katherine and I went to His Grace’s room, as usual, but he wasn’t there. Lady Katherine is a little upset.”

“I’m sure he’ll appear at any moment,” Anna replied, feeling the urge to giggle again. “Why don’t you take Kitty down for breakfast?”

“Certainly, Your Grace.”

Retreating footsteps echoed down the hallway, and Anna allowed herself a sigh of relief. She flopped back on the pillows.

“They’re gone. Now, where were we?”

Theo cursed under his breath. He was not listening. “I should probably go.”

He threw back the blankets, completely unselfconscious about his nakedness, and began to gather up his clothes from last night.

She could see the curve of his back, the muscles in his shoulders rippling. He had remarkably broad shoulders, even without the cut of his coat to emphasize them. For such a powerfully built man about the shoulders and chest, he had a tapering waist, curving in without any need for padding or corsetry, like the ones some men used. And below the line of his spine, just where his waist curved into powerful hips, he…

Well, best to leave that alone.

Anna cleared her throat, struggling to find something to say, but nothing came to mind.

It’s all part of the agreement, she told herself, and that only made her feel worse.

“Are you going to eat breakfast with Kitty and me?” she asked when the silence grew a little too heavy.

“Of course,” he said, shooting her an absent look over his shoulder. “And we can review the scandal sheets for today.”

She sighed. “Do we have to read that nonsense?”

“I’m afraid so. It is nonsense, but it is frighteningly accurate. It’s good to stay abreast of the gossip, especially for people of our rank.”

He turned to inspect himself in the mirror, just briefly. He looked fairly rumpled but relatively respectable, and just as handsome as ever. Anna’s chest tightened.

“I shall change properly in my room, Anna. I’ll see you at breakfast.”

He moved towards her side of the bed, half-leaning forward as if he were going to bend down and kiss her. Before Anna could react, however, he had pulled back, turned on his heel, and abruptly left the room.

There was a letter waiting on the breakfast table, placed in the center of a highly polished silver platter. Martha and Kitty sat further down the table, the latter fully engrossed in her breakfast.

Anna managed to enter the dining room at the same time as Theo. Their eyes met, and they both opened their mouths to speak at the same time. She wasn’t entirely sure what she was going to say, and she certainly had no clue what he meant to say, but whatever it had been was doomed to remain unspoken.

Timmins stepped nimbly in between them. “There is a letter, Your Graces,” he said, eyeing Theo pointedly.

Theo pressed his lips together, a tinge of irritation in his eyes. “There generally are letters, Timmins.”

“Addressed to you both,” Timmins added. “I… I recognized the handwriting, Your Grace.”

Anna did not understand, but Theo’s brow furrowed. “Henry?”

“I believe so, Your Grace.”

Theo shot over to the breakfast table, snatching up the letter. Anna just had time to glimpse the names on the envelope—the Duke and Duchess of Langdon—before Theo tore it open.

“If this is Henry writing to tell me he’s in another mess and requires my help,” he muttered, mostly to himself, “I shall be furious.”

When he had the letter free, Anna stood on her tiptoes to read over his shoulder. He turned the letter to help her read better.

Dear Theo and Anna,

When I first heard that you got married, I thought it was just nonsensical gossip. I now know that it’s true. I’m not sure if I should congratulate you, but I know that I wish you happiness with all my heart.

I am glad you have found a solution when I have proved so very disappointing. I am afraid I am about to disappoint you both quite a bit further.

Perhaps you, Anna, have always suspected this, but my brother is another matter.

George and I have found a place to settle in Italy. It is small, and not at all what I am used to, although I can’t imagine that you two care very much about my small discomforts at the moment. The truth is… oh, I can hardly even write it.

I always knew I was never cut out for a wife and family, but there’s more to it than that. I am here, as I said, with George. My George. I love him, Theodore. I have for years, and ours is as domestic and stable a relationship as any conventional marriage.

Not, of course, as acceptable in Society, though. Are you shocked? I dare say you are. That, Anna, is the reason I could not marry you. I could never be the husband you deserved, and it seemed so unspeakably cruel to us both. To all three of us, in fact, as George would never be the lover of a married man.

So, there it is. The facts. I am sure that you at least, Theo, are entirely disgusted. I have not included an address, as you might decide not to forgive me. If you can forgive me—or feel that you can get past the matter with only a few good boxes of my ears—then wait for another letter. I will not be returning to England anytime soon. Aside from this, I am well.

I am happy, Anna, Theo. I am happy for the first time in the longest time.

Your brother and friend,

Henry Stanley.

There was a long moment of silence. Anna, the faster reader and more used to Henry’s spiky handwriting, finished the letter first. She stood back, watching Theo’s face change.

“George, the art tutor,” Theo repeated. “That explains a great deal. I’m no fool, I am not quite as shocked by this as he seems to think, but…” he trailed off, his eyebrows knitting together. “He thought I would be disgusted with him? That… that I would never forgive him? Why would he think such a thing?”

Anna bit her lip, putting a hand on his arm. “I… I think that Henry believed that the world was against him. But look, he says he’ll write again, and he says… he says that he is happy.”

Theo swallowed. “Well, that’s something, I suppose. We should destroy this letter. It would put him in danger if it were found.”

“Yes,” Anna agreed, relief flooding through her. “I’ll stoke up the fire. So you see, the marriage between me and Henry would have only ever been…” she trailed off, meeting Theo’s eyes.

He lifted an eyebrow. “You knew?”

“He never told me, but…” She shrugged. “Yes, I knew.”

Theo made a strange noise, half scoff, half chuckle. He turned to sift through the pile of fresh scandal sheets while Anna poked at the modest fire in the hearth, Henry’s letter clutched in her hand.

“Do you think that Henry will come back to England one day?” she asked over her shoulder.

“Perhaps.”

“And… and would he be welcome in our home?”

Theo fixed her with a stare. “He is my brother. He is a Stanley. Of course, he’ll be welcome.”

Anna had already known that, of course, but it made her feel warm and relaxed to actually hear it.

And then the newfound contentment was dashed quite efficiently, when Theo gave a roar of anger. She flinched, straightening up. Martha and Kitty glanced up from their breakfasts.

“Theo?” Anna ventured.

He was holding a scandal sheet in his hands, his fingers almost tearing into the paper. Just like before, Anna hurried to his side, peering over his shoulder to read.

Duke and Duchess Continue To Cause A Stir!

The Duke of Langdon and his controversial new Duchess appeared at a showing of Die Zauberfl?te only last night. To the curiosity and shock of many, the pair disappeared before the interval and did not return for the rest of the opera. Witnesses remarked that the Duke and Duchess seemed frosty with friends and acquaintances, as well as with each other.

As all dedicated readers of this journal will know, the scandalous wedding between the Duke of Langdon and Miss Belmont took place shortly after Miss Belmont was shockingly jilted at the altar by Lord Henry Stanley—the Duke’s brother. Lord Henry has since fled the country. Society had barely recovered from such shocking behavior before the Duke wed the girl.

This ill-matched pair continues to inspire speculation wherever they go. This author can only assume that the good Duke was keen to avoid scandal, and so he stepped in to cover up the sins of his brother. Wary, perhaps, of a scandal from seven years repeating itself?

Anna blinked down at the lurid column, trying to make sense of it all. “I don’t understand.”

Theo crumpled the paper in one hand, his fist clenched so hard his knuckles turned white. He crossed the room in three strides, hurling the paper into the fire so hard that it bounced straight out and he was forced to shove it back in.

“Wretched gossips,” he hissed, his teeth clenched. “If I find whoever wrote that paper, I’ll tear their head clean off!”

Anna frowned, watching the paper burn. A quick scan of the other gossip sheets in the pile revealed no mysterious ‘seven years’ remark, although they did mention Anna and Theo’s disappearance from the opera.

“Theo, what does this mean? What happened seven years ago?”

Theo did not respond, and it was clear that he was not going to. Martha was looking distinctly uncomfortable, but Kitty glanced from face to face, full of childish confusion.

“I am seven years old, Papa,” she piped up in a moment of silence, broken only by Theo aggressively stirring the fire with a poker. “Is it about me?”

Anna opened her mouth to tell Kitty no, of course not, why would it be about her? Then she saw the white, frozen look on Theo’s face, and her heart sank to her feet. She felt sick.

Martha met Anna’s eyes over Kitty’s head and immediately averted her gaze, crimson-faced.

Anna closed her mouth with a click, summoning the dignity a duchess ought to have. A duchess should never be discomposed, should never flounder, never wonder what her place was in a room, in a house, in the world.

She was the subject of envy, not because of beauty or a rich husband or many jewels. No, she was envied because she was confident, and there were few things more attractive than confidence.

Anna tried to remind herself of that.

“Martha,” she heard herself say, her voice reassuringly even, “why don’t you take Kitty out for a walk if she’s quite finished breakfast?”

Martha got to her feet so abruptly and with so much relief that she nearly tipped her chair backward.

Kitty blinked up at her nursemaid, not understanding. “Am I in trouble?”

“No, of course not, dear,” Anna said at once. “I just want to speak with your papa for a moment.”

“Will we look at the stars again tonight? I like it better than chess.”

This was punctuated by a nervous glance at her father. Theo had his back to the room and was now leaning against the mantelpiece, his hands planted firmly on the ledge, staring into the fire. He did not move or acknowledge anyone around him.

“I’m sure we will,” Anna said firmly.

She smiled down at Kitty as the two hurried past, reaching out to run her fingers through Kitty’s soft hair, not yet wound into twin plaits.

When they were gone and the door was closed behind them, she turned to Theo. “You have to tell me, Theo. Tell me everything.”