Page 10 of The Jilted Duchess
She knocked.
"Who is it?"
"We were just wed, Your Grace," she said pertly. "Perhaps I should refresh your memory?"
There was a startled noise from within and then her husband, all of him, the whole mountain of a man, opened the door to the study and peered down at her. He seemed even bigger out of his finery, in his shirtsleeves with his cravat undone. Something about the expanse of him was more unrestrained, more unlimited this way.
"What are ye doing up so late, Alexandra?" he asked, letting her step into the room and then closing the door behind her. "It's well past nine, fair time to be abed, I would say."
"I agree," Alexandra said. "Which is why I have come to find you, Your Grace. You have been remiss in your duties to me."
"I have what now?" he blinked at her, staring outright at her face in so bold a way that she was forced to sigh.
"Your Grace, please. Is it not our wedding night?"
He stared again and then laughed, throwing his head back and bellowing with such merry abandon that a flush flew up her cheeks in annoyance. "What are you speaking of, girl? What does our weddin' night have to do with anything?"
"I am not a girl," Alexandra snapped. "Your Grace, your manners leave a great deal to be desired. You cannot simply call me 'girl' or 'lass' or whatever you like. I am your wife, I command respect from others, but only if you respect me yourself." She drew a deep, calming breath. "You may call me Alexandra. That will suffice. And further, Your Grace, you have offended me by your lateness. How do you explain yourself?"
He was looking at her now with his dark blue eyes with such a curious, assessing look that Alexandra wanted suddenly and fiercely to flee the room, go back to her safe, boring bedroom, and hide under the covers. It was very uncomfortable to be so closely observed, to be weighed down by that heavy gaze.
"What exactly have I been late for, Alexandra?" he asked, his low, rough voice tasting her name as though it were a foreign dish.
"Your wedding night!" she exclaimed. "You are very late indeed! Why would you leave me waiting in our marriage bed for you to arrive?"
"Our -" he paused and blinked. A slight flush mounted his cheeks for the first time, and he turned away from her quickly. "Ourweddin' night?"
Alexandra wished that he was still looking at her so she would be able to try to read him better. "Yes. Do you recall how we were married today? That makes tonight our wedding night. On such occasions it is usual for a man to visit his wife in their bed."
"Oh." He sounded as though he was choking. "I see. And that is something you have been expecting, is it?"
"Should it not be?" She was honestly confused. "Is that not quite usual for a wedding?"
"Alexandra." He turned back, looking at her with so serious an expression that she was a little afraid of what it meant. "Do you know what - you are asking about? What it would - mean?"
It wasn't something her sisters had ever really spoken about. Of course, they had all talked when they were younger about being swept off their feet by a young gentleman and taken away tohis beautiful house, where they would be laid onto a bed that smelled like roses, but from that moment, the details had always become rather vague. It was certain thatsomethinghappened between the man and the woman that made them closer and brought them together, of course. Alexandra knew that something was quite necessary for a child's birth, for instance.
But with her mother dying so young and none of her sisters ever having been specific -
The most she knew about the matter was from hearing a couple of maids laughing about their experiences when she was a teenager and even that had confused her. Something about people lying on top of each other. It had sounded exhausting and also as though it would be uncomfortable.
So did childbirth, for that matter. Her sisters had discussed that at length several times, and each time it had made her wish to curl herself into a tight ball and hide her body away from the possibility.
"Of course, I do," she said firmly, refusing to look him in the face in case he would know the truth from her eyes.
"Mmm," he didn't sound convinced. "Daenae worry about it, my dear. Ye can go rest your weary head tonight and all will be well."
Was he turning her down? Didn't he want to - be her husband in the ways men did?
Alexandra folded her hands together tightly to hide the way she was beginning to tremble a little from tiredness and bone-deep sorrow. "Do you not want an heir, Your Grace?"
Hector Lennox scoffed a little, looking back at her with a stormy gaze that she couldn't read. All men wanted heirs, especially men in such high positions. If he didn't want an heir, then surely his half-brother would inherit, and he must want to avoid that at least.
"I think there will be time enough for children," he said quietly. "A bouncing bairn will bless us soon enough, me wife."
She frowned a little. He wanted a child, and yet didn't want to make a child?
Why would this man never make an ounce of sense?
