Page 15 of A Virgin for the Duke of Scars (Ton’s Beasts #1)
A fter the unexpected visitor in the tower last night, Aaron made a last-minute decision to attend breakfast. Perhaps it would be best if he met his new wife on his own terms, rather than having her sneak into his tower in the middle of the night.
Not that he minded seeing her in that nightgown, the way the fabric stretched tight over her chest. The low cut. The entire thing, while meant to be innocent, ignited something deep within him. He still felt it this morning, but tried to wash it away with a morning glass of whisky.
In anticipation of seeing his new wife, he spent more time than usual dressing. He selected the fabrics that brought out the color of his eyes and offset the unpleasantness of the mask. He wanted to draw attention to a part of him that others didn’t constantly remind him of.
What could Theresa possibly see in a villain like him?
He was right, that time they first met in the woods near the nunnery. It wouldn’t do for Theresa to be running around with beasts. And yet here she was, sneaking into his tower in the evenings and joining him at every meal.
Here she was, taking her clothes off for him and allowing him to touch her in ways that felt good. Ways that she had never experienced before. It demonstrated a level of trust—trust that he did not think he had earned. But he would continue to prove himself deserving of her company.
Today was bound to be a long day. He would need something to fortify him ahead of spending time with her, when the only activity he would like to partake in was stripping her out of her clothes and?—
He shook his head, trying to push that thought away.
Instead, he poured himself another glass of whiskey and thought about how best to go about getting to know his bride. Perhaps she was right, and they merely needed to spend time together. What was the rule she set if she were to perform her wifely duties? An hour a day?
Surely, she wasn’t asking much of him, but he had been a solitary beast for far too long.
With a sigh, he set down his glass and made his way down to the breakfast room. Juliette and his grandmother would be able to smell the whiskey on him, but he bet that Theresa would not recognize the smell, having grown up in a convent.
“Nice of you to join us,” the Dowager Duchess said when he walked into the room.
She sniffed, and he knew instantly that she smelled the alcohol.
It was unlikely for her to say anything. His grandmother often looked the opposite way when it came to his vices.
The three women were already nibbling on the food placed in front of them. Theresa, he noticed, was only eating the sweetest things on her plate. She had pushed the bacon and sausages to the edge of her plate.
Aaron took his seat at the head of the table and reached over to pluck the bacon off her plate. She sat to his left, the place usually occupied by the Duchess, and it suited her.
She smiled at the familiarity of him eating off her plate.
“I must confess, I have developed a sweet tooth since I arrived here. You may have the rest of my plate, if you like, dear husband,” she offered.
Before he could answer, the servants brought him his own plate, piled high with all of his favorites.
“No need to clean up your scraps,” he said with a smile.
“But it would be wasteful not to eat them,” Theresa argued.
There were times when his breath caught as he realized how different her upbringing was from his own. He never thought twice about what was left on the table. He was sure the servants ate it. He had never seen bundles of food tossed out with the rubbish—not that he had seen much rubbish at all.
“Not your concern,” he said with a shrug.
He couldn’t care less if there was a bit of waste, one of the many perks of his station. They could afford more food if and when they needed it.
“To what do we owe the pleasure of your company?” Juliette asked, drawing his attention. “You seem like you’re in a fine mood this morning.”
Ah, so she could smell the whiskey, too.
“We have an appointment with the dressmaker today. It seems that my wife here needs some clothes that fit her appropriately. The wardrobe we had made was intended for another, and it shows.”
His eyes roved over her body. The bodice of her dress was too tight, showing off her curves and pushing up her breasts. She had more curves than most ladies of the ton, and he loved to look at them. Loved to imagine trailing his hands over each dip and swell.
That was what her dresses did to him.
He could never take her out looking so indecent. Not to mention, it made it hard for him to think of anything but ripping the fabric and slipping his hand inside to cup her breasts. He remembered the way she moaned when his fingers found her nipples, her sweet center.
Before he knew it, he was hard and unfocused on the conversation around him.
“The dressmaker!” Juliette exclaimed. “You will have such a fun time, Theresa. It is one of my favorite places to visit. I try to go a few times each Season.”
“Do your dresses only last through one Season?” Theresa asked. “Our dresses at the nunnery lasted us forever. The only times we had to get new ones were when we outgrew the old ones. And then they were recycled.”
Aaron smiled at her innocence. “Fashion is important to the ton . It’s not that the dresses don’t last, but that they fall out of fashion.”
“Then it should be important to buy something that will stand the test of time,” Theresa declared.
A blush crept up her cheeks, and that made him want to smooth out the wrinkle between her eyebrows.
“You have much to learn about this new lifestyle,” he said instead. “You may have had only a handful of dresses in the nunnery, but you shall have the best of the best here.”
“If it pleases you, husband.” She gave him a small smile.
How could she possibly know that providing for her pleased him? He wanted to be the one she turned to when she needed something—dresses, invitations to parties, and even intimacy.
Plus, he needed to get her into clothes that fit so that he could start to think straight in her presence.
“Are you ready to go out?” He asked, pushing his plate away.
Theresa had stopped nibbling on the fruits on her plate.
“Will we ride into town?” She asked, hopeful.
“It would not do for my wife to be seen on horseback in the city. You will take the carriage, and you will need the carriage to carry back your new wardrobe.” Aaron rose from the table and extended a hand toward her.
“But I have heard that you enjoy riding, so one day we will take a trip where there are more suitable places for a lady to ride.”
Theresa looked elated at the prospect of being on horseback again.
He would never have guessed that she could ride if he hadn’t seen her that day in the forest. It was one skill that he did not think would matter much in a convent.
She placed her hand in his, and he tucked it into the crook of his elbow. He caught his grandmother’s approving look.
Certainly, they looked like a happily married couple. Theresa seemed happy at almost every turn, but soon she would realize that life with him was not so grand.
He would soak up these moments with her now, before that time came.
Aaron dreaded the day she turned to him and whispered that she found him to be just as monstrous as everyone else. Though to date, she had yet to express anything of the sort.
If anything, she seemed almost… intrigued by his mask. His disfigurement had not diminished her desire to spend time with him.
They crossed the gardens to the stables, where the grooms were already steering around the carriage. They passed him the reins to his horse, but he waited until Theresa was seated in the carriage before mounting.
“It hardly seems fair that you get to ride and I don’t.”
Aaron was surprised. He knew very few accomplished female equestrians. Gently bred ladies were more likely to be found in the safe confines of a carriage.
“You would rather be riding today, too?”
“More than anything,” she said wistfully.
She reached out and petted his horse’s nose before she retreated into the carriage, out of view.
She was forever full of surprises.
As the carriage pulled away from Blackwell Manor, Aaron pulled his mount to the side of it.
He could still see Theresa through the window of the carriage, and he was surprised that she was still watching him with envy.
He purposefully directed his gaze elsewhere until they came to the heart of London.
People nodded at Aaron as he passed and peered curiously into the carriage at the woman who was so unfortunate to be wed to him.
Their naked curiosity infuriated him, perhaps even more so because Theresa did not seem to notice.
She was soaking up the scenery, the shops, and the hustle and bustle of the city. This was nothing like the procession from Wyndham Park to Blackwell Manor. This was a shopping excursion, a luxury trip through town. There was much for her to see and experience.
He thought about all the ways he could reason with her, to make her see the beast that everyone else saw. Surely, she would soon grow aware of the looks that followed them everywhere they went. Surely, she would soon realize the truth.
He was grateful when they pulled up in front of the dressmaker’s shop and she stepped out of the carriage. He jumped down from his horse and passed the reins to the driver.
“We’ll be awhile,” he told him, holding the door to the shop open for his wife.
“Your Grace.” The dressmaker hurried from the back of the shop, where she had been pinning together a new dress on a mannequin. “What a surprise to see you and your lovely wife.”
“May I introduce you to Her Grace, the Duchess of Blackwell?”
Theresa gave her a smile that lit up her whole face.
The dressmaker bobbed a quick curtsy. “What can I do for you today, Your Grace?”
“My new wife needs a wardrobe that suits her,” Aaron explained.
Surely once she looked at Theresa’s gown, she would realize that her clothes lacked refinement. It was downright indecent .
Aaron could hardly think straight around her.
The dressmaker walked slowly around Theresa, tsking as she studied her gown. Her eyes swept over his wife from head to toe, narrowing on her hairdo and hands. Indeed, Theresa was tanner than most of the ladies who frequented her shop.
“Perhaps the dresses in this section,” the dressmaker suggested, taking Theresa’s arm and guiding her to the front of the shop. “I have only a handful of ready-made gowns if you are in urgent need. But I can sew others to fit you and deliver them in a few days.”
Aaron happened to know that this was where the most expensive dresses were kept. But he couldn’t care less about the price tag, if they made Theresa happy.
If they kept her body covered and allowed him to think about anything other than stripping her down.
“Dear husband, what do you think of this one?” Theresa asked, pulling him into the conversation.
She held up a teal dress with enough green in it to make her eyes stand out against her tanned skin. The skirts were full, hiding the small waist that his arms itched to wrap around. But the bodice was lower than he would have liked—it would push up her breasts.
“Choose whatever you like,” he said instead.
The purpose of this trip was to make it easier to think around her, rather than make it easier to think about her.
Like him, the dressmaker noticed Theresa’s tendency to select bold colors off the rack. She grabbed a few more in shades of deep ruby, sapphire, and emerald. All the jewel tones that were not so common amid the ton , but that suited her complexion perfectly.
“A woman who likes a bold color.” The dressmaker nodded approvingly.
“We were forbidden to wear these colors.” Theresa fingered the fabric of the dress in front of her. Her expression was almost wistful, but she looked up at Aaron with bright eyes. “Is this the fashion here?”
“You can set your own trends,” he encouraged.
“I will box these up for you,” the dressmaker said, taking the dresses from her arms. “You will need nightgowns as well, yes?”
“Oh, I think I have some?—”
“Yes, she will need nightgowns that fit her,” Aaron cut in.
He could tell that Theresa was about the deny it, but he knew he could not resist long if she continued to wear those ill-fitting gowns.
“I have just the thing,” the dressmaker declared, pulling a few soft, flowing nightgowns from behind the counter.
They were more indecent than they had any right to be. A nightgown for a husband to peel off his wife. Not something for her to roam the manor in.
In due time, she wouldn’t be roaming the manor at all. She would be locked in his chambers with him, sharing his bed.
That was the image that flashed through Aaron’s mind when he looked at those nightgowns. And on the nights she spent with him, she certainly would not need them.
“We’ll take the lot,” he said without consulting her.
He could only hope that she would visit him tonight, dressed in one of those new nightgowns.
He turned toward the front of the shop, hoping to hide his arousal at the image of her in one of those nightgowns.
“But it is too much,” Theresa protested, drawing his attention back. “This must cost a fortune. Perhaps we could get one or two dresses for special occasions. I can continue to wear the ones in the wardrobe you provided me.”
“You are my wife,” Aaron said simply. “You must look the part.”
Before he could stop her, she threw her arms around him, pressing her body against his in an almost indecent way. He wrapped his arms around her without a second thought, hoping that she could not feel the effect her hug had on his cock.
When she pulled away, a chill seeped into every place they no longer touched.
He would do anything for her if it meant more of her enthusiastic appreciation.
“Thank you, husband.”
“Of course.”
The dressmaker cleared her throat at the display of affection, surely because she could not fathom a woman who would want to be with a beast like him.
Aaron glared at her until she turned back to the dresses she was sewing when they had first arrived. Seeing the fortune he was spending here, he would embrace his wife as he wished.
It was then that he noticed the blush on Theresa’s cheeks.
Was she embarrassed that someone else had seen her embrace him so fiercely?
“It is time for us to take our leave,” Aaron announced, refusing to ponder that thought.