Page 20 of A Virgin for the Duke of Scars (Ton’s Beasts #1)
“ J uliette, could you please eat faster?” Theresa pressed. Her plate was clean, and she was pacing the length of the table. “We could have left five minutes ago if you had not opted for a second scone.”
“I thought you loved blueberry scones,” Juliette teased. “Any other day, and you would be the one licking the plate clean.”
“Breakfast will take as long as it takes,” the Dowager Duchess interjected with a small smile. “Though I, too, agree that Juliette is taking an inordinately long time to finish her breakfast.”
Juliette popped the last of her scones into her mouth—a decidedly unladylike move. She was still chewing on the pastry when Aaron entered the breakfast room.
“You are wearing one of your new gowns,” he noted, eyeing Theresa’s cerulean blue gown, which accentuated her curves in a way that drew the eye and made it impossible to look away.
She hoped he would want to undo the buttons in the back, as he had the night before.
Theresa twirled in front of him with a laugh. “What do you think, dear husband?”
“I think it is utterly indecent for you to go out in that dress. Some poor man may believe you are unmarried and try to snatch you from me.”
“Then you will have to exact revenge on him,” she said with a smile meant just for him. “You seem the kind of man who can stick up for his rights and his wife.”
“But I would prefer no bloodshed,” Aaron teased.
“If you two are done flirting, we should get going,” Juliette blurted, suddenly the one in a hurry to get to the art exhibit.
Theresa jumped away from Aaron without a second thought and made her way to the door without so much as a goodbye.
“I thought you wanted to spend time together every day, dear wife,” he reminded her, arching his eyebrows.
She knew he wanted her to play his game, to spend time with him when it was convenient for him. But this was her rule, and she would decide how they would go about it.
There were better opportunities to spend time together than during breakfast. There was nothing special about scones and sausages. Today, she had something more exciting planned than simple banter with her husband.
“I do want to spend time with you, but Grandmama and Juliette promised to take me to an art gallery today. And I’ve never been to see so much art in one place. Not this kind of art. Can you believe it?” She was nearly breathless.
“You will have a lovely time there,” Aaron said with a nod. “Though I would rather be with you, I trust Juliette and Grandmama to show you a good time. Isn’t that right, ladies?”
“Don’t tell me what I can and cannot do,” the Dowager Duchess huffed.
“I wish I could join you, but I have a few things to take care of today—I’ve just received your dowry from your father and the Queen. But I will make it up to you.”
“What did you have in mind?” Theresa asked, thinking of the evening they spent together and desperately hoping for a repeat of that kiss, with or without the mask.
“How about we attend the garden party the Duchess of Ashton is hosting tomorrow night? There will be a fireworks show afterward.”
“Fireworks,” she repeated, testing the word on her tongue. “I have never seen these either. So many firsts this week! I accept your invitation, dear husband.” She paused and then pivoted back to the original topic. “What will you do with the funds?”
“Is there anything you would like to remodel?” Aaron asked. “You can renovate anything you like with the money. I’ll make sure that both dowries are deposited in an account in your name, in case you need to… run.”
Theresa furrowed her brow in confusion. Why would she need to run? And from what? The husband who fulfilled her every desire, who had taught her what it meant to want and need someone else? From the family that had taken her in and taught her how to behave like a lady?
Absolute nonsense!
“I’m grateful you thought to include me in your plans,” she said instead. “Perhaps we could put some of the money to good use by helping families in need.”
She was nothing if not a woman of the cloth who had been raised to think of charity rather than opulence. It only seemed natural that some of the money—money they had not earned—would go toward helping others.
Juliette and the Dowager Duchess stood up from the table, and Theresa knew this was her cue to cut the conversation short. She leaned down and kissed his good cheek before rushing outside, where the other two were already waiting for her.
“You and my brother certainly seem to have found common ground,” Juliette commented, once they were ensconced in the carriage. “I do not recall the last time I heard him banter with anyone the way he does with you.”
“I am quite fond of him,” Theresa admitted, her cheeks pinkening.
“Nothing to be embarrassed about there,” the Dowager Duchess assured her. “He is your husband. It is only natural that you feel some affection for him. The Lord can work in mysterious ways, as you well know, Theresa.”
“Grandmama, you had an arranged marriage like Theresa. Did you love your husband?” Juliette asked.
“Things were different back then. Most marriages were arranged to unite our families and consolidate power beneath the Crown. I will not confess to loving my husband, but we were great friends.”
With those words hanging in the air, the three women rode to the art gallery.
Theresa made it a point to stare out the window so that she could learn the streets and eventually navigate them on her own. She knew the drivers would take her where she wanted to go, but eventually, she would want to go out for walks.
They pulled up to the art gallery, and her heart soared. She had never imagined she would find so much art in one place. The building was enormous, almost as tall as Blackwell Manor and wider than St. Agatha’s. And to think, the whole place was piled with art!
There were paintings in the nunnery, of course. The common area and the rooms dedicated to fervent prayer were marked by the austere portraits of saints. The paintings existed not for their enjoyment and pleasure but to remind them of the sacrifices of those who came before.
Theresa was ready for a new experience.
“We’ll start with the west wing and work our way around,” Juliette suggested. “Try not to get lost in here; it is a maze.”
“I shall stick with you and Grandmama,” Theresa promised.
The three women entered the art gallery, which was at least ten degrees cooler than the streets and the inside of the carriage. Theresa felt the cool breeze immediately upon walking through the doors and stood still.
To the right and left, she could see only endless paintings hanging on the walls. The path through the gallery was meandering, taking her this way and that. Seeing this much art for the first time, she felt that the few hours they had set aside for exploring would never be enough.
“I have never seen so much art in one place,” she breathed.
She drifted toward the exhibits in the west wing while Juliette followed several paces behind her.
Theresa was drawn to the excess colors, the patterns, and shapes that she could never have imagined. These were abstract paintings, still lives, depictions of daily life that would not be appropriate for a nunnery.
She blushed a bit upon seeing the nude paintings, but then she remembered that she was a married woman now. That this was mere art and said nothing about her for looking. To look upon the naked human body was to see the beauty all around her.
Unfortunately, those paintings also made her think about her husband. She wondered what he would look like beneath his mask, beneath his shirt, even beneath his breeches.
If she could have her way, she would strip her new husband of his clothes and feel his skin on hers. In her mind, she relived the moment he had grabbed her when she invaded his private quarters, her face pressed to his chest. He was strong and sturdy beneath her cheek.
Would every part of him be just as pleasing as that one encounter?
Theresa tried to keep her mind focused on the paintings rather than what lay beneath her husband’s clothes. She was so entranced by the paintings and her desires that she didn’t notice the Duke of Hiverville approaching her.
“It is a pleasure to run into you again, Duchess,” he greeted, taking her hand in his and planting a kiss on the back of it.
Theresa was certain Aaron would not appreciate it, but it seemed to be a normal greeting in this place.
She thought back to the Dowager Duchess’s lessons about how to greet people of lower ranks, but this man was a duke, so the rules did not apply.
And he did not look like he was waiting for her to curtsy.
“The pleasure is mine,” she returned.
On second thought, she decided to bob a quick curtsy. She wanted to practice the new skills Juliette and the Dowager Duchess had taught her.
“We have not had much chance to get to know one another. But Aaron is one of my closest friends, so it only makes sense that we get to know one another as well. If you can be married to a beast, surely you can be friends with the likes of me.”
“I would not call my husband a beast,” she retorted.
She had heard the whispers about her husband, his mask, and what was under the surface. But she knew that all of those rumors were false, and she would have none of them.
“I meant it in jest, Duchess,” the Duke said. “He is my closest friend. I know him a great deal better than you do, and I assure you he is no beast.”
“You must learn to choose your words carefully, Your Grace,” Juliette interjected, seeming to sense the tension between them.
“My apologies. I did not mean to speak out of turn. I hope you will attend the house party. It would be lovely to have you there.”
“We will be there,” Theresa affirmed.
The Duke of Hiverville took his leave before he could make any other snide remarks about his best friend.
Theresa would never understand why he would call his friend names, even in jest. Especially a name that Aaron was so sensitive about.
Perhaps she just needed to get to know the man better, and she would see his jokes for what they were—harmless jests. The sisters at the convent would occasionally rib each other, but she was overly sensitive to her husband’s feelings and hang-ups about his mask.
Juliette came up behind her to see what she was looking at with such intensity.
In truth, Theresa had been drawn to the painting, but she was mostly thinking about how she would act when people insulted her husband in front of them both.
She had a feeling that Aaron would never stand up for himself, and it was not a ladylike thing to do.
Amid her pondering, she gravitated to one particular painting. It was provocative, the strong colors swirling on the canvas.
The stormy sea was raging, a beautiful charcoal grey that reflected the depth of the ocean and its angry waves. It was not the kind of storm to be caught up in. The sun was setting over the sea, turning the sky blood red.
Perhaps it stood out to her because it was the only painting she had seen so far that did not have a person in it.
It stirred something in her gut, something that she could not quite put a name to.
It was the first time art spoke to her.
“This one doesn’t have a name,” Theresa noted, looking at the placard. All it mentioned was Anon and a price of six hundred pounds.
“You may be surprised to learn that Anon is a duchess. She chooses to paint anonymously, but her name is Emily Montague,” Juliette revealed.
Theresa’s mouth dropped open in shock. She would never have imagined that this was painted by someone like her .
“She is truly talented,” she said. She wondered if her husband harbored the same degree of talent.
“Juliette, will you help me purchase this painting for my husband? It could be a gift for him. I feel this is a painting he needs in his tower.”
The two women found the gallery owner and haggled over the price of the painting. Eventually, they settled on a sum, and then the two women went in search of the Dowager Duchess to leave the gallery.
“I had no idea you were a collector,” the Dowager Duchess remarked on the ride home.
“I don’t know about being a collector. I simply saw this painting and immediately thought of Aaron. I could not resist buying it for him as a gift. I hope he likes it,” Theresa said.
“I have a feeling my grandson would love anything you gave him.”
Theresa blushed and wondered if the woman knew about the things Aaron had given her. Could she know how he had touched her, how he had kissed her last night?
The walls have ears .
Then, she decided she didn’t care.