Page 11 of A Virgin for the Duke of Scars (Ton’s Beasts #1)

I t took more than an hour of walking the streets surrounding Blackwell Manor for Aaron to clear the picture of his new wife bent over his desk, his fingers deep inside her, from his head.

He dared not venture beyond the grounds for fear someone would notice what he was hiding—his hard cock, which longed for her touch.

He had been aroused by women before, certainly. But he had never thought he would marry a woman who wanted him. Maybe not as badly as he wanted her, but someone who wanted him all the same.

Someone who looked at his mask and wasn’t repulsed by it, but leaned into it. If she had her way, he was certain she would take it off.

That must never happen, or he would lose what he had with her now. She would be just like the other women he had courted, who ran away from him, scared.

What Aaron bloody well needed was a glass of whiskey, or the entire thing—something strong to pour down his willing throat. Something that could take away the memory of her whimpers, the way her hair was mussed beyond help.

Aaron had thought marriage would be easy, transactional. They would lead separate lives, coming together only to attend social gatherings and produce an heir. There was nothing in there about a woman who dressed so provocatively that she lit the fire within him.

Despite his walk, his cock was still straining against his pants at the mere thought of what he would have liked to do to her.

My innocent little nun .

So many things she didn’t know and hadn’t experienced. She had no idea of life here in London , and no idea how married couples should interact. She would have to learn how to adhere to his rules for both their sakes.

She would end up heartbroken when she realized that he was not the man she had hoped to marry. He tried to push his past relationships to the back of his mind. This was a very different situation with a very different woman.

But the memory of what had happened and the prospect of what could happen haunted him even now.

As the sun set, he made his way back to the manor for supper. Part of him was eager to be around her, to talk with her, to get to know her in some other non-carnal way.

His little nun had him intrigued and aroused.

When Aaron entered the dining room alone, Juliette and his grandmother were already seated at the table.

Conspicuously missing was his new wife. He swallowed and tried to hide his disappointment that she would not join them for the first real meal they would share at Blackwell Manor.

Perhaps it was for the best that she would keep her distance from him after what they did. Seeing what he wanted to do to her.

“She’s asleep,” Juliette offered when he sat at the head of the table, gesturing to the empty seat on his right.

“She has had a long couple of days.” He shrugged. “Traveling wore her out, not to mention the wedding festivities. Instruct the servants not to disturb her. She will come down from her room when she is ready.”

Two footmen began serving the meal, but he was no longer hungry.

“Forgive me, but I have realized I have no appetite,” Aaron announced, mostly for his grandmother’s sake. “I will be in my tower.”

He excused himself from the table without another word and retreated to his quarters. He stripped out of his clothes and slipped into a nightshirt, hoping that rest would find him after the stress of the day.

But when he lay in bed, the only thing he could think about was his wife.

He thought of all the ways he could welcome her into this chamber, where she thought they would share a bed.

He thought of all the ways he could bend her over the bed, how wet she would be for him.

The way she moaned his name when he touched her made him want to touch himself and pretend that it was her small hand.

He could not sleep, thinking these inappropriate thoughts. He threw off the coverlet and went to the small side table to pour himself a glass of whiskey.

The best thing he could do was simply take his mind off what he wanted most.

He would have to stay here until he had more control over himself.

Damn her rules about spending time together each day. She was his wife, and he would set the rules in their marriage. They would no longer get to know each other as he had originally planned.

Theresa came out of her suite early the next morning, refreshed after a night of decent sleep.

How long had it been since she had slept in? In the convent, they woke up at the crack of dawn to start chores and do the morning prayers. That meant it had been more than twenty years.

She woke up in the middle of the night several times, disappointed to find that she was still alone. Sister Edith and Margaret had always been close by, and she missed them desperately.

It was not uncommon for Margaret to slip into bed with her around midnight, their cold feet brushing beneath the thin, coarse blankets.

She had companions in the convent, but she could have had a sister—a real sister—had she stayed here in the ton . Her parents deprived her of the right to know her sister. Hope , she reminded herself.

Would she recognize Hope if she saw her in the midst of her new life in the ton ? They were twins, after all. Theresa thought perhaps they would share similar traits. The shape of their eyes, their confident voices.

If she had heard her sister call to her, would she have known the voice instinctively?

When her mother arrived to retrieve her, she had not recognized her and would not have guessed that the woman was her mother. Perhaps it would be similar in the event of meeting her sister. After all, Hope would act with the poise of a woman raised in a noble family.

Certainly, that was not something Theresa could imitate.

Who would she talk to in the empty rooms of Blackwell Manor?

There was Juliette and the Dowager Duchess, but they were two people in a large house.

She needed to find an ally, a friend, sooner rather than later.

If she were to stay here, she needed someone like Margaret to confide in.

How else could she talk about what happened last night?

Determined to make friends with the few people who were here, she followed the servants down to the breakfast room, where she found Juliette and the Dowager Duchess seated and laughing about something or other.

The sound made her heart ache with loneliness.

Would she ever laugh again with someone so close to her? She should have had that with her family, but she feared she would never see the Marchioness again. Plus, she had met her father only briefly, and her sister was nowhere to be found.

Who was left to love her besides the Duke and his family? They had been thrown together because of the Queen’s edict, not because they loved each other.

She wondered if they would consider her a burden when they got to know her. They had welcomed her with open arms on the day she was wed, but they did not know how little she understood about life in the ton . They would be forced to educate her or endure embarrassment at her hands.

“Theresa!” Juliette called when she saw her standing by the door. “Please, come join us. We missed you at supper last night.”

“Yes, I was exhausted,” Theresa said. “I had not intended to sleep through dinner, but the rest was much needed. I hope my presence was not missed much. The celebration and the journey here wore me out.”

Juliette and the Dowager Duchess exchanged looks that she couldn’t decipher. Then, they returned their attention to their plates.

“You must sit down and eat,” the Dowager Duchess said, loading up a plate with the best the kitchen had.

Bacon, eggs, fresh fruit, and some small pastries that Theresa could not name. Since sweets were a rare, if not non-existent, treat at the convent, she did not know the names of most sweet foods.

There was more food on the table than she was used to seeing in one place, all for four people. Than an entire nunnery eats for breakfast.

Then, she realized that Aaron was nowhere to be seen.

“Will my husband be joining us for breakfast?” She asked nonchalantly, like she couldn’t care less about the answer.

But she wanted desperately to see him. After yesterday, how could he simply forget about her?

They had done something she had never imagined before. She had felt things she had never felt before. It wasn’t that she wanted a repeat of the act, but she worried he regretted it. He had his rules, after all.

“He is in his tower,” the Dowager Duchess answered. “When he gets in a mood like this, it is best that no one disturbs him. He will emerge when he is ready for company once more.”

“But what does he do up there all alone?”

Theresa was puzzled by the idea of solitude. She didn’t spend time alone unless it was part of her punishment. In the nunnery, there were always people around to talk to, and it was one of the few joys she had.

She could not imagine being locked in a tower like those poor heroines in fairytales.

“He’s found a way to chase his demons,” Juliette said.

Theresa recognized that no more would be said about the matter.

She sat down and took a bite of the food in front of her, mulling over the appropriate response.

“How did you sleep last night, dear?” The Dowager Duchess’s voice pulled her out of her thoughts.

Theresa was grateful for the change of subject.

“Truly, I have never stayed alone. Especially in such opulent accommodations. These are bigger even than my chambers at Wyndham Park. I am used to Sister Edith and Margaret always being there with me.”

The Dowager Duchess gave her another look that she could not fathom. “I thought you had no siblings. As a matter of fact, I was pretty sure your name was Hope,” she said softly.

Theresa bit her lip, debating how much to share with the women who had welcomed her with open arms.

And why not tell them the truth? She had nothing to gain by protecting her parents, who couldn’t have cared less about her happiness. They had proved that over the past two days.