“I mean, the marriage has been consummated,” she said.
Suddenly, the blacksmith’s shop went very still. The room was so quiet that it seemed the wordconsummatedrang out like a bell. The marquess looked at Carlisle, who smiled in a rakish sort of way. Then her father looked back at her. Clearly, he hadn’t expected this turn of events. He probably thought no man would ever want to touch her. “If this is true, you’re even more of a fool than I thought,” he said. “But I don’t care if your belly is swollen with his spawn—he will not have you.”
“But I will have him,” Katie said, moving to Carlisle’s side. “He’s my husband, and nothing you do can part us.”
The marquess’s eyes blazed with anger.
Carlisle leaned closer to Katie and whispered, “You probably shouldn’t have added that last part.” Then he reached into his waistcoat and pulled out the deed to the vineyard. “I know how…heartbreaking it must be to lose your only daughter. To a duke.”
“A penniless duke.”
Carlisle ignored him. “I wonder if I might soften the blow a bit.” He held out the papers.
The marquess sniffed at them. “Another wager, Carlisle? I wouldn’t think you’ve anything else to lose.”
“This is a property in France. One I think might interest you.” Her father grabbed at the papers, but Carlisle snatched them out of his reach. “I think it best if we find a lawyer, don’t you agree, Shrewsbury?”
Her father’s gaze didn’t leave the papers, but he nodded.
“I’m a lawyer,” Burns said. “It’s a wee bit early for me to open my doors, but I might be persuaded.”
Carlisle smiled at him. “Oh, Shrewsbury will buy you all the whiskey you want, Mr. Burns.”
“Verra well, then. Follow me.” The slight man in tweed led the way, and the marquess followed.
Carlisle paused to look at Katie. “I’ve secured a room at the inn next door. Go up and lock yourself in. If this doesn’t go as planned, I want you safe.”
She nodded. “I’m more worried about you at the moment.”
“Don’t be. I’ll take care of this, and we’ll be done with him. In the meantime, rest. If I survive, you’ll need it.” He winked, and she felt that slow heat swirling about her belly. Carlisle lifted her hand and kissed her knuckles. The look in his eyes promised more than a kiss on the hand when he saw her next.
With a smile, he withdrew.
Katie sighed, and she heard the blacksmith’s wife sigh as well. She looked over, and the other woman had a soft look on her face. Then she elbowed her husband in the ribs. “I remember when ye used to look at me that way.”
“I remember when ye didn’t bruise my ribs. Best take the duchess to the inn and see her safely put away. Mayhap when ye return, we’ll play the newlyweds.”
Katie pressed her lips together, pretending she hadn’t heard. The blacksmith’s wife giggled, then gathered up the marriage license and gave it to Katie, who stowed it in her valise. Without Carlisle beside her, she also donned her veil again and wore it until she had closed the door behind her in what the innkeeper called the best room in the inn.
Clearly, it was intended for newly married couples. Cupids had been painted on the walls and above the bed. Dried flowers made wreaths and garlands along one wall. The lingering floral scent was not unpleasant, and the sheets looked clean. Katie was thrilled to finally remove her traveling clothes. She’d been wearing them for three days. But just as she began to fuss withher pins, a knock sounded on the door. She opened it and found a manservant hauling a small tub. “Compliments of Mrs. Smith.”
“Mrs. Smith?”
“The blacksmith’s wife, Your Grace,” said a maid who carried a large pail of steaming water.
“Oh, of course.” Katie moved aside as two more maids entered with water, and then all the servants bustled away and she was left with a small tub half full of hot water. She’d never been so happy to see a bath in all her life.
She finally managed to wriggle out of her traveling clothes and found a cake of lemon-scented soap on a clean towel beside the tub. She stepped inside and used the soap and the water in the pail beside the tub to wash off. Then she wrapped herself in the towel and leaned over the tub to wash her hair. When she was finally clean, she pulled the blanket off the bed and tugged the rug near the hearth. She sat on the rug by the fire, trying to dry her hair and warm herself. Katie had a vague notion that she should ring for something to eat, but that would mean standing up, finding clothing, and dressing. And she was so tired.
She closed her eyes, and the thought immediately came to her that she was now the Duchess of Carlisle. She was a wife. She was no longer under her father’s control. She hadn’t realized how free she would feel…or how frightened. Before, her path had always been laid out for her. Her father had made certain she was protected, hidden, kept out of Society.
Now she was a duchess. Granted, her duke would probably not be going into Society anytime soon, but her future was unwritten. She could paint again. She could do all the things her father always forbade her from doing—visiting museums, strolling in pleasure gardens, attending the opera. Was Carlisle the sort of man who liked the opera?
Probably not.
Hadn’t he been gone a rather long time? Worry began to creep in—not because she thought her father would harm him. Now that property and lawyers were involved, her father was in his element. He’d see trading Katie for the vineyard in France as more than fair. He’d probably think he got the better deal.
Did the negotiations really take this long?
