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CHAPTER25

Emily woke up with a headache.

That was not surprising, considering the amount of champagne she’d ingested at the wedding.

I should not think of it as ‘thewedding.’It is simply ‘mywedding.’

Her room was a fine one, exceptionally large and immaculately furnished, but the endless swathes of blue velvet and drooping curtains—which rather clashed with the fluffy carpet—made it seem more like a guest room than anything else. To be sure, her things were there—folded neatly in trunks, shaken out and hung in the vast closets, shoes polished and set out on low racks—but it did not feel as if any of it was hers.

The bed was also ridiculously large. A medium-sized family could sleep in it, and get lost in it, too. During the night, Emily had sunk deep in the feather mattress, the pillows piling up around her until she felt almost as if the bed was eating her alive.

She struggled to get out of it now, flailing her arms and legs in a most un-duchess-like manner in a bid to sit up.

One would think that, when I lie in the most comfortable bed I’ve ever been in, I would be able to sleep.

At last, Emily managed to roll herself out of the great dip in the center of the bed and crawled over to the edge. The wretched bed washigh, too, making her feel as though she had to take a great leap down to the ground.

Instead, she reached for the bell pull beside her bed. She tugged it, hearing mechanisms click within the walls, no doubt shooting all the way down to the kitchen, where a bell bearing her name would ring shrilly.

She sat there, surrounded by a tangled mess of blankets and pillows, and could not help but feel dissatisfied. The feeling of desire had simmered inside her throughout the rest of the wedding breakfast.

Cassian had managed to avoid her without seemingto do so. Rather impressive, Emily had to admit. Still, every now and then, she would catch his eye across the room. He would always be doing something, like lifting a glass of champagne to his lips, which he would then lift towards her in a mocking sort of toast, that eyebrow of his quirking wildly.

And just like that, the lust would roar back.

I do not like that word.It is a most unpleasant word, and probably not very ladylike.

Although perhaps, considering the things I have done, it is too late to worry about what is ladylike and what is not.

The door creaked open, and a dark-haired girl with large dark eyes stood there, almost swallowed up by her maid’s gown and apron, and the old-fashioned mobcap jammed on her dark curls.

“Your Grace,” she murmured, bobbing a lopsided curtsey. “My name is Isabel. I’m to wait on you until you can get a proper lady’s maid. Unless, of course, you’re happy enough with me, Your Grace,” she added slyly.

Emily swung her legs over the side of the bed. “Well, you should know that I’m not in the habit of being waited on, or getting help to get dressed. However, my new gowns are so complicated that I simplycan’tput them on by myself.”

Isabel tilted her head to the side. “Really, Your Grace? You dressed yourself?”

“Of course. I wasn’t always aduchess, was I? I don’t even feel like one now.”

She added that last part in an undertone, but judging by Isabel’s sharp glance, it was overheard.

Isabel was a pretty girl, to be sure, but there was something a little too incisive in her stare, something that made Emily uncomfortable.

Don’t be a fool.You’ve been a duchess for only a day, and already you’re finding faults with the servants’ behavior? Ridiculous.

“How about the ruched violet silk gown for today?” Isabel suggested, half-drawing an exquisite gown out of the closet and stroking it lovingly. “It is a present from His Grace, I hear.”

“It’s very beautiful,” Emily admitted. “But it would be wasted. Today, I shall be doing some painting. Have my painting supplies been set up, by the way? I asked for them to be put in a quiet, little room that nobody uses, so long as it has good light.”

Isabel’s face lit up. “Oh, Your Grace, you don’t know, then.”

Emily frowned. “Don’t know what?”

“I don’t know if it was meant to be a surprise or not. Here, you’d better get dressed, and then I’ll tell you. Oh, Your Grace, you’re going to love it!”

Emily followed the maid down hallway after endless hallway. Carpeted hallways, ones with polished wooden floors, ones with cold stone floors worn down by countless years of tramping feet.

“This place is very old, you know, but some parts are older than others,” Isabel said over her shoulder. “I believe previous dukes added sections to the house. But the room we’re heading to is one of the original rooms. It’sveryold.”