Page 31 of Married to a Scandalous Spinster
A scramble of claws flew down the passage, followed by the clip-clop of human footsteps. There was a light knock on the door.
“Come in.”
The door opened to reveal Gemma's grandmother. Two short-legged terriers barreled past her and began chasing each other around the room.
Gemma rushed at the Dowager Marchioness, throwing her arms around her. “Grandmother!” She squeezed her tightly. “I am so pleased to see you.” To her embarrassment, tears of relief began to well behind her eyes. Her grandmother wiped one away as it slipped down her cheek.
“And I am pleased to see you, my darling. How are you faring?”
“Oh Grandmother, I…” Gemma stopped herself before she could launch into a recitation of her woes. She knew the Dowager Marchioness would go back to her family and tell Veronica andJane everything, and the last thing Gemma wanted was for her sisters to be concerned about her. She forced a smile. “The library is wonderful.”
“Isn't it? I have always admired it. I am very glad you will get to enjoy it.”
“How is Father?” Gemma asked. “And Veronica and Jane? Are they well?” Though it had been mere days since she had seen them, Gemma missed her family with an intensity that made her ache.
“Your sisters are well,” the Dowager Marchioness said with a smile. “As for your father, well…” She shook her head, as though sensing that now was not the right time to launch into yet another attack on the Earl of Volk. Gemma was grateful.
“Please tell them I miss them very much,” said Gemma. “And I will come and visit soon.”
Her grandmother nodded. “Of course. Patch!” She hurried across the room and herded her dog away from the potted fern in the corner of the room, upon which the dog was firmly considering hiking its leg. A seriousness darkened her expression as she returned to Gemma's side. She took her granddaughter's hand. “Her Grace, the Dowager Duchess, tells me you and your husband are yet to… warm to each other.”
Gemma smiled wryly at her grandmother's choice of words. “How can I warm to him, Grandmother? I barely know him. And I was forced into becoming his wife through no fault of my own.”
“That may be so,” said the Dowager Marchioness. “But the fact remains that he is indeed your husband. And you can either make the most of it, by getting to know him. Or you can live the rest of your life in misery.” She gave Gemma a gentle smile.“I know the Duke of Larsen is not the kind of man you would have chosen as your husband—if indeed you would have chosen any man at all. But I know he is a decent man, beneath all that brazenness and bluster.”
“A decent man?” Gemma repeated. “He's an immoral rake. Was it not you who told me to stay away from men who like the drink and the gambling halls?” She shook her head. “The Duke of Larsen is just like my father.”
“Are you certain about that?”
Unbidden, Gemma found herself thinking of the way the Duke had come to her bedchamber last night, asking after her wellbeing. She could not deny that, as infuriating as their encounter had been, he had been doing his best to care for her. And when, she wondered distantly, was the last time her father had done such a thing?
“I cannot allow myself to warm to him, Grandmother,” Gemma found herself admitting. “Because then… then they win.” She sniffed. “The Dowager Duchess will get what she wants. And when people gossip about me and speak of my licentiousness, they will be right.”
The Dowager Marchioness raised her eyebrows. “Gemma,” she said, “you are an intelligent young lady. But I'll be damned if that is not the most foolish thing I have ever heard.” She pinned her with a hard expression. “Are you truly going to condemn yourself to a life of loneliness and misery because you see this as some kind of competition?”
Gemma lowered her eyes shamefully. Some distant part of her knew her grandmother was right. But she could not bring herself to feel otherwise.
“And,” the Dowager Marchioness continued, “there is nothing licentious in the world about allowing your husband into your bed.” She bent her head to catch Gemma's eyes. “Perhaps you are frightened?” she said tentatively. “Of your wifely duties?”
I am frightened of the way my body reacts when I am around my husband. I am frightened of the way he makes me feel. Because I have always prided myself on being in control. And around him, I am anything but…
But to her grandmother, she said, “No, I am not frightened. I just do not wish to be married.”
“Come on.” The Dowager Marchioness looped her arm through her granddaughter's. “It is a beautiful day. Far too fine to be cooped in up here with your thoughts, no matter how wonderful a library it is. Her Grace and I have taught Patch and Lucy some new tricks.” A wide smile lit her face. “Just you wait and see!”
Chapter Fifteen
“Stay, Patch. No,stay!”
Wyatt couldn't help a smile as he watched the lackluster dog show from the safety of the arbor. Far enough away from his wife so as not to catch her eye.
For three days, he and Gemma had done a sterling job of avoiding one another. He knew she kept mostly to her rooms, and as such, he had been equally as vigilant about remaining in his wing of the house. So far, apart from the two ill-fated visits to her bedchamber on the day of their wedding, they had seen each other only at mealtimes. And what godawful tribulations they had been.
He squinted in the bright summer light. In spite of himself, he found his eyes lingering on Gemma as she watched their grandmothers trying to coax the dogs into rolling over. She was wearing a simple yellow day dress, a soft shawl draped across her bare arms. Much of her face was hidden beneath the brim of her bonnet, but he could see a faint smile on her face. Finally, after much cajoling, the dogs launched into a synchronized rolland the Dowagers cheered, bringing a rare burst of laughter from his wife.
The gesture caught Wyatt off guard, almost as though he had not imagined her capable of such an action. She looked suddenly carefree and girlish. Unbidden, Wyatt found himself wishing very desperately that he could bring such an expression to her face.
The thought left a distinct sense of discomfort inside him, and he was about to stand and leave the ladies to their escapades when his grandmother spied him. She made her way toward him.
