Page 10 of A Bride for the Duke of Sin (Ton’s Wolves #3)

CHAPTER 10

B eing a duchess is far more excruciating than I ever gave Alice and Evie credit for.

It had not been two hours since the ceremony and Phoebe was already eager to retreat to the peace and quiet of her rooms.

However, there were guests that needed tending to, and congratulations that she must receive. The endless stream of good wishes and not-so-subtle hints about her wedding night nearly had her in tears.

Now that she was married, they seemed to be all too eager to offer her unsolicited advice on… private matters.

There will be no wedding or bedding night , she told herself firmly as Lady Penrose tittered endlessly at her side. Absolutely not .

“You are so fortunate, my dear. So very fortunate.” The buxom Countess grinned at her. “With a husband like that”—she nodded in Ethan’s direction—“why, I would be loath to rise from my bed for a good week at least.”

Goodness gracious .

“—not to mention his stamina!”

The bevy of married women burst into knowing giggles, while Phoebe could only duck her head and feign embarrassment at their innuendoes. They could very well have been discussing horses from all this talk of riding and stamina.

“Ladies, please. There is no need to embarrass my darling wife with such mischief.”

The tittering immediately died down, and Phoebe looked up to find Ethan casually walking towards them, wearing his usual cheerful smile. She felt his arm snake around her waist, drawing her closer to his side.

“Can you not see how uncomfortable the Duchess is?” he pleaded with a coaxing tone. “Do spare her today, at least.”

“Oh, you!” Lady Weatherby huffed, but she was smiling widely at him.

Much too widely for Phoebe’s taste.

“Well, we can see that we have overstayed our welcome…”

Phoebe viciously suppressed the urge to roll her eyes.

Lady Haversham, it is almost time for luncheon. It is well past the ‘breakfast’ of wedding breakfasts already.

“Nonsense!” Ethan scoffed. “I am simply eager to be with my beautiful bride and must retire now. You must forgive my ill manners as your host.”

The ladies all nodded knowingly and, with a little more bustle and small talk, managed to effectively shepherd themselves en masse through the door as Phoebe politely waved them goodbye.

“I suppose that means we should be off as well.” Evie laughed as she reached out to Phoebe for a brief hug. “Ethan seems especially eager to be rid of us now.”

“We do thank you for attending, but my Duchess and I should like to retire now,” Ethan declared.

“And my Duke would do well not to speak on my behalf in the future,” Phoebe muttered under her breath, shooting him a reproachful look.

She had thought that he would be incensed at having been shot down in front of their friends, but he only grinned all the more and held her closer.

She saw the Duke of Ashton regard their brief interaction with a raised eyebrow and a slight smile, before Evie smiled up at him. The moment she did so, all of his attention was focused on her.

“Well, we must be off then,” she told Phoebe cheerfully. “That is before Ethan decides that we, too, have overstayed our welcome.”

“See how welcome your husband would find me if I dropped by Ashton Estate for more than two hours,” Ethan laughingly replied, to which Evie turned a slight shade of pink.

Daniel, however, merely regarded his friend with a cold look. “That,” he enunciated, “is called overstaying your welcome.”

When she finally had to wave them both goodbye, Phoebe felt a strange sort of emptiness.

And the slight thrill of anticipation.

No, no, no! There is definitely no anticipation going on at all!

It certainly did not help when Ethan drew her into his arms, his freshly shaven cheek brushing against hers as he whispered in her ear, “Do not take too long getting changed, Duchess. I shall be expecting you in my rooms. Do not be late.”

Phoebe pursed her lips, even as her breath caught in her throat. “No.”

It was just a single word. One that held a great deal of meaning, nonetheless.

He drew back from her, looking a little confused. “No?”

She nodded emphatically. “I should think that my dear husband, in possession of all his faculties, understands the word no .”

“Why not?”

“There is no need to consummate the marriage with me ,” she replied. “You can do… whatever it is you want to do with all the other ladies you seduce regularly.”

Ethan looked visibly incensed that she would even suggest such a thing. “Why the hell would I want to do that on our wedding day?”

Phoebe blinked up at him. “Is that not what you usually do?”

“This is most assuredly my first marriage, and I intend to make it legal,” he growled. “And that is something that you should want, too, considering that you will only be able to obtain true freedom as my Duchess and not as a spinster or a pariah of Society, as you initially planned.”

Freedom . That one effervescent hope that she had kept in her heart all these years.

How could he promise it to her so casually, when she had wanted it so badly?

He turned her in his arms until her back was pressed against his front. Despite the layers of fabric between them, she could feel the heat of his body seeping into her skin, feel his hardness against her back. His lips began a dangerous trail down her neck to her shoulder.

“Think of everything you would be able to have as my Duchess, Phoebe,” he murmured against her heated skin. “The gowns and the jewels. Society at your feet, catering to your every whim. You could throw out that bastard Dexford and nobody would bat an eye…”

Phoebe did not care much for gowns and jewels, but the ability to get rid of unwanted visitors as much as she pleased?

Oh so tempting.

“… and I can give you pleasure beyond your wildest fantasies,” he continued, his hands wandering from her waist to her chest. “I could show you things that you never dreamed of…”

Indeed… he could show her all that and more .

Much more than she had ever dreamed of…

But at what cost?

Ethan could feel her melting in his arms. Could feel her surrender whispering against his fingertips. Her desire was as palpable as the hardness straining against his breeches…

Which was why it was so jarring when she let out that all-frustrating word.

“No.”

She wriggled out of his arms and faced him. With her flushed face and her breasts straining against her bodice, it was admittedly very, very hard for Ethan to focus on his lovely bride’s face.

Or the most vexing words that were coming out of those tantalizing lips of hers.

“I told you that I will not simply become prey for a Wolf like you,” she huffed, crossing her arms over those lovely breasts. “I am not as naive as you like to think I am, so you better save your tricks for your mistresses.”

His mistresses?

Ethan growled in frustration. He pulled her close, bringing them chest to chest, their lips a mere breath apart. He watched as her eyes widened in shock before they narrowed.

Oh, what a maddening creature she was!

And so hellbent on thwarting him at every turn!

“What do I need to make you mine?” he muttered.

Her eyes flickered. The belligerence in them softened, turning somewhat disappointed. Almost sad.

“What I want… what I need,” she said softly. “It is something you cannot give me, Your Grace.”

What could a woman possibly want that he could not give?

He had great wealth at his disposal, a title that was more noble than what most of the ton could dream of. On matters of the bed, he was more than confident that Phoebe would never want for anything—or anyone.

“Name it,” he challenged her, his voice low and dangerous.

She smiled sadly and placed her hand on his chest, right where his heart thundered the loudest. “You cannot make me fall in love.”

Ethan nearly staggered backward at her words, yet what followed them had him reeling.

“I want to fall in love—true love, that is—and you cannot achieve that with your usual schemes,” she sighed.

The woman was fanciful, for lack of a better word. Maybe even the slightest bit mad .

She believed in dreams and fantasy. Maybe of knights and chivalry and honor and all the things that Ethan had forsworn a long, long time ago.

“For this to happen, you would have to get to know me. The real me,” she continued. “And I would have to get to know you—and that, I fear, is something that you will never allow me, or anyone else for that matter, to do.”

He looked deep into her eyes, and the longing in them pierced through his soul. She did, indeed, want something that was not in his capacity to give her.

“You do not know what you are asking for, Duchess,” he rasped.

She shook her head with a soft smile. “I have never wanted anything more for so long,” she admitted softly. “You might think me naive and all other things, but I know what I want, and I will not live with a lesser imitation of it. I would rather have all of it or none at all.”

She knew .

Even if he and all the world told her that it was nothing more than fairytales and spun sugar, she wanted it and would not settle for anything less.

Certainly not the kind of care he was offering her—the only thing that he was capable of.

His grip on her loosened, and his arms fell to his sides.

Then, he straightened up and chuckled, tapping her chin in an almost lighthearted manner. Praying to whatever god would hear him that she would not notice how his fingers trembled slightly.

“I apologize, Duchess. I have put too much pressure on you, and it is only our first day together.” He smiled in an attempt at brevity. “You are right—you need to get some rest.”

She blinked up at him, as if confused, and then, she smiled hesitantly.

“You will soon find that I am right on many other things as well, husband,” she told him cheerfully.

Ethan could not help but laugh, although the sound echoed hollow in his ears.

For better or for worse, they were married now. Phoebe would soon come to her senses about the realities of most ton marriages, although theirs did not need to be adversarial. They could be happy in each other’s company, and that would be more than sufficient.

For now, he would allow her the whimsical innocence of her youth.

He owed her that much, at least.