Page 45 of Captured By the Cold Duke
“I also felt certain that there were too many barriers!” He shook his head. “You were my best friend’s sister. You were still far too young to court. And I was going back to India. I didn’t know if I’d ever return to England full-time. And while your brother might eventually come around to the idea of me courting you, I knew he would never agree to the match if it meant you moving across the world.”
“And there was also your father,” she whispered.
“Yes,” Thomas said heavily. “There was also him. He had made me doubt myself so thoroughly that I was sure there was no way you would ever want me. I didn’t feel worthy of you. So, while I was miserable at the thought of parting with you and returning to India, I also thought that perhaps it was for the best: you could never want me, and I could never deserve you.”
“You do deserve me,” Cherie said, and she had never meant anything more. “You deserve happiness, Thomas. And I think wecould be happy together.” His fingers tightened in her hair, and the look in his eyes intensified.
“I know we both made mistakes. You were cold and forceful about our marriage, and I was deeply opposed to it. I wanted a love match, and I was sure love could only blossom in a very specific way.” She shook her head with a rueful smile. “I was wrong.” She looked deep into his eyes and willed him, with everything she was, to say yes. “Can we try again?”
Seventeen
“You will find the Duke of Vaston in the kitchen, Your Grace.”
“The kitchen?”Thomas stared at the butler as he stood in the hallway of his best friend’s London townhouse, unbuttoning his coat. “The Duke of Vaston is in the kitchen?”
“Yes,” the butler sniffed. “I told him that it wasn’t necessary, that the servants could see to the duchess’s needs, but he insisted upon doing it himself.” The butler looked decidedly unhappy about this. “Perhaps you could mention to him, Your Grace, how undignified it is for a duke to spend time in his own kitchen? It will give the servants a bad impression.”
Thomas had to hide his laugh. Aidan’s butler had always been even more of a snob than the duke himself.
A few hours had passed since the conversation and kiss with Cherie, and Thomas had ridden to Vaston Manor this afternoonto seek out his oldest friend’s advice. He hadn’t spoken to Aidan in a while, since the wedding breakfast. Ever since that day, he had been afraid to reach out to him. Being married to his sister was awkward enough; when one added the strange circumstances of the wedding, it was downright uncomfortable.
But Thomas needed someone to speak to; someone who had known him for a long time and who would give him honest advice; someone who wouldn’t sugarcoat things but also wouldn’t catastrophize. Otherwise, he didn’t know what to do: should he follow his heart and live with Cherie as husband and wife, or should he keep the distance between them that she deserved?
Hopefully, Aidan can still give me good advice, he thought dubiously.Although based on this strange behavior, he may have lost his mind on his honeymoon.
“Well, take me to him, I suppose,” Thomas said, shaking his head in amusement and surprise.
The butler led him across the hall, and then through a door that Thomas had never been through before. One of the servants’ stairs. They descended the narrow staircase, which opened up into a neat, simple hallway, through which was wafting the smells of delicious cooking.
“All my years coming here, and I’ve never been to the kitchen,” Thomas marveled.
“Well, it’s hardly an appropriate place for a duke to go,” the butler said disapprovingly.
They walked down the corridor, then into a warm, spacious kitchen that was alive with the hustle and bustle of servants. Kitchen maids were cutting vegetables, sharpening knives, and cleaning pans, while at the large fire, the cook was ladling something from a large pot into a small glass bottle. Next to her stood the Duke of Vaston.
“Your Grace,” the butler said, bowing low. “The Duke of Wheaton is here to see you.”
Aidan turned, and his face broke into a smile as he saw Thomas.
“Wheaton!” Aidan boomed, holding out his hands. “How wonderful it is to you see! How long has it been—three weeks?”
“I think four,” Thomas said, grinning as he came forward and shook his friend’s hand.
“Well, either way, far too long,” Aidan said. “The duchess and I were just saying how much we would like to have you and Cherie over for dinner. But of course, we aren’t hosting yet.”
“Yes, it would be unusual for a duke and duchess to cut short their honeymoon to host a dinner,” Thomas said. “Especially since the Italian portion of the honeymoon was already cut short…”
“We shall not speak of that,” Aidan said, his lip twitching in amusement. “As far as I remember, you and Cherie married in an entirely un-scandalous way, after an appropriately long courtship, and that is what I shall tell anyone who inquires about it.”
“If only,” Thomas said, trying to force himself to laugh.
“Your Grace,” the cook interrupted, and she handed the glass bottle to Aidan. “It’s ready.”
Aidan turned to her at once and took the bottle. Holding it as delicately as one would a child, he brought it to his nose and sniffed.
“And this has the ginger root in it?” he inquired. “And the motherwort?”
“Of course, Your Grace.”
