Page 8 of A Virgin for the Duke of Scars (Ton’s Beasts #1)

I have never seen so many people in my entire life!

Theresa grinned as she leaned out of the window, feeling the breeze and sunlight on her face.

She had not seen much of London because it was already getting dark when they had arrived in the city. This time, she relished the opportunity to take in all the sights and sounds as the carriage wound down the busy streets on its way to Blackwell Manor.

My new home .

Her heart rate quickened at the thought. In the space of two days, she had lived in two homes—neither of which she felt was welcoming enough.

The nuns in St. Agatha’s had viewed her as a burden, except for Sister Edith and Margaret. Her parents had foisted her on a veritable stranger the first chance they got.

Perhaps the third one truly is the charm.

She peered up at the Duke from the window.

He was sitting astride his steed, his back straight, his chin slightly raised.

He had the air of a man who owned the path he walked on—or rather, rode his horse on—although she was fairly certain that England still belonged to King George, albeit under the Regency of his son…

“See anything you like?”

Theresa shook off her musings and smiled at the Duke. “I’ve never been to London before. The city looks incredibly lively.”

“Pah. It is full of miscreants and cutpurses, that is what it is,” he snorted disdainfully. “And if you are not careful, they could snatch your earrings off of you if you poke your head out of the carriage long enough, bleeding ears or not.”

Her eyes widened. “That sounds…”

“Terrifying?”

“No.” She rolled her eyes at him. “I was about to say exciting . And I really do not have any earrings on, so I guess they would only be disappointed in me.”

He looked at her as if she had lost her wits. “Do you, perchance, have any inclinations toward petty crime?”

She shook her head in response.

“Why the hell would you find theft exciting?”

Theresa laughed at the incredulity on his face.

“Because I believe it would take a great deal of skill to achieve such a feat! Think of how nimble their fingers have to be! Although…” She sobered up.

“Sister Mary would think that I am truly depraved to think that way. Do you think I am depraved, Your Grace?”

“Not exactly,” he admitted. “Although I do not discount the very real possibility that you might not be in full possession of your faculties at the present moment.”

“The better to keep you on your toes, my dear,” she retorted blithely with a wide smile.

When he fixed her with a cold glare, she just laughed and withdrew back into the carriage, the curtain falling shut after her.

The poor man… He had lived all his life without the boundaries that the nunnery used to impose on her. He would never understand how glorious the world was, now that she could see it in the sun. He was such an ornery man that he could not see the beauty of life past his own misery.

Still, who would have thought it would be so fun to tease her husband like this?

Theresa smiled as she sat back in her plush velvet seat. Perhaps getting married at the drop of a hat was not as bad as she thought it was.

The woman was a bloody study in contrasts.

At times alluring, at times innocent… and all the time exasperating. Aaron had never met a more confounding creature, and he had met a great many liars, actresses, and swindlers in his time. All of them could turn into entirely different people at the drop of a hat.

Theresa was… different.

In a good way.

In a very good way , another part of him—the one that should not be given any control over his consciousness—chimed in.

Truly, if he had given his cock free rein, someone else would be handling Midnight back to his residence, and he…

Well, he would be buried balls deep in his delectable wife. In the carriage. On the way back to Blackwell Manor.

Out here in broad daylight? You would be fortunate if she did not scream bloody murder , a snide voice taunted at the back of his head.

He pressed his lips into a grim line. Not only was it very possible that she would scream, but she might even react as every other woman he’d attempted to bed since his return from the battlefield—with horror, disgust, and copious quantities of vomit.

Not exactly a good way to start their marriage.

Not to mention that he was pretty certain that the new carriage the Marquess of Wyndham had provided for his daughter’s comfort was not exactly built for the lewd scenarios he was entertaining.

Nor did it come with a bucket where she might empty the contents of her stomach with as much dignity as she could muster.

He gripped the reins hard in his hands. That was not the only thing that was hard about him right now.

Fortunately, they were able to make their way back to Blackwell Manor in relative safety. No one’s earrings were snatched. No one was deflowered in the bloody carriage.

But for the first time, Aaron found riding Midnight to be very, very uncomfortable. Excruciatingly so.

All thanks to Theresa Ellison- Lennox . The not-quite-a-nun who was now his wife.

Something ancient and primal called from within him. Desire burned in his veins, pooling in his loins. The need to possess, to devour, was like a fevered song in his blood.

Mine , it called out. All mine .

The carriage came to a stop just behind him, and he dismounted, taking great care that the small crowd that had gathered at his front door did not see his raging erection. It would be extremely hard to explain it to his sister. Even worse, his grandmother would never let him live it down.

He walked toward the carriage when the door suddenly burst open. He watched in dismay as his new wife spilled out of the carriage, heaved a huge sigh of relief, and began dusting her skirts. She gave him a huge smile and walked up to him.

“I thought I told you to wait for me to open the door for you.” He frowned.

She looked at him with a cheeky smile that only made him want to drag her inside, pin her to a wall, and have his wicked way with her.

“And I thought I told you that if you wanted an obedient wife, then I would have made a poor match,” she replied with a slight shrug.

He snorted. “You’ve made that abundantly clear.”

“Well then, there should not be any confusion right now.”

“Aaron, I thought I raised you with better manners than to bicker with your wife before the servants!” A laughing voice admonished.

He turned around to find his grandmother walking toward them, a regal smile on her weathered face. She breezed right past him, beaming at Theresa as if she were the light of her world.

“Welcome to Blackwell Manor, my dear,” she greeted warmly, taking her hands in her own. “You must forgive my grandson’s atrocious manners. If he is being an ornery beast, do not be afraid to tell me, and I shall set him straight.”

Aaron rolled his eyes and turned to Theresa. “This is my grandmother. Elizabeth Lennox, the Dowager Duchess of Blackwell.”

“If Blackwell is being a beast, then that is only right,” another voice chimed in. “After all, my new sister-in-law is a beauty. They make quite a lovely pair, don’t you think, Grandmama?”

Fortunately, introducing his family meant that he only had to roll his eyes twice.

“And this is my sister, Juliette,” he added. “She believes that life is a fairytale. If you have the time, do try to dissuade her from her romantic fantasies so that she may join the rest of us in the real world.”

Juliette laughed and grabbed Theresa’s hands excitedly, casually brushing past him in her enthusiasm.

“You must forgive us for not attending the wedding—everything happened so fast, and my brother”—she glared at him, and he glared right back—“is not exactly very forthcoming about his affairs. Besides, there was still a lot to be done to prepare the house for its new Duchess, so Grandmama and I had to stay here and man the fort.” She sighed dramatically.

So, maybe introducing his sister required a minimum of two eye rolls.

But Theresa just laughed. “Well, to be fair, I almost did not make it to the wedding myself, so I shall forgive you on that account!”

Aaron blithely pretended he did not see the sharp look his grandmother shot him. He would explain it to her later. Preferably never .

“All right, then! Now that you have sufficiently gawked at my bride, can we please go inside?” He interjected loudly. “Besides, the Duchess has had a rather eventful morning, and a hot bath and refreshments should be in order.”

He glanced at the maids who had gathered at the door, and they scurried away to do his bidding.

Juliette gave Theresa’s hand an excited squeeze and whispered, “I think we are going to get along just splendidly, Your Grace.”

“Oh no, please! Just call me Theresa.”

His sister’s smile was like the sun breaking over the mountains. “Theresa,” she said, before disappearing back into the manor with their grandmother.

As soon as the last of them disappeared into the manor, Theresa turned to him with a winsome smile that made his heart flutter.

Funny, it had never done that before. Not even during the war, when he was getting shot at left, right, and center.

Perhaps it only meant that a wife was a more fearsome adversary than a troop of murderous Frenchmen.

“How do you do that?” She asked.

“Do what?”

She nodded toward the door. “You just nod, say a few words, and they all scatter to do your bidding.” She tilted her head like a curious sparrow. “Do they always react that way to you?”

“Can you blame them?” He bit out.

She regarded him with that same curious gaze. “Well, I do not really understand why they do that,” she told him with a jaunty smile.

Just because you are impervious to my ugliness does not mean the rest of the world is .

All of a sudden, he wanted nothing more than to pull her into his arms. Spin her into a jubilant circle like the men in Juliette’s books did to the ladies. Kiss her senseless. And then kiss her some more.

He really should be more cautious around her. If not, she just might make him believe in things he had no business believing.

“I shall show you to your room,” he told her, striding toward the manor.

She followed him, almost running to keep up with his much longer strides.

“My room?” She echoed. “Are we not to share a bedchamber?”

And the erection he had barely managed to suppress in the presence of his family and staff came back in full force.

“It is… not how it is done in London,” he explained.

Even then, it sounded painfully weak to his ears.

“Oh.”

He pretended not to hear the disappointment in her voice. Or take unreasonable delight in it.