Page 26 of The Duke’s Indecent Scandal (Indecent Dukes #1)

Chapter Twenty-Five

G regory

St. Michael’s was packed, and there were more people outside, hoping to catch a glimpse of the high-ranking guests going in and out of the church. The day had dawned brightly sunny, the air warm enough that many a lady was idly waving her fan from her seat. The brightly colored dresses were dotted by grey morning suits, similar to Gregory’s own, with some gentlemen popinjays adding more color to their attire to break up the grey.

Standing at the end of the aisle, trying to ignore the very full pews of guests and Father Patrick at his side, Gregory did his best not to jitter in place. Why he suddenly felt so nervy, he did not know, but he did.

Perhaps because marriage is a momentous occasion?

He glanced over his shoulder at Nathanial, who had agreed to be his best man. A position he’d always thought Sebastian would fulfill, but since he was marrying Sebastian’s sister, his closest friend had a different duty today. Perhaps that was what was causing the sudden bout of nerves.

Could he be a good enough husband to Tiffany to satisfy his friend?

Oddly… the answer felt like yes. He truly enjoyed her company. He was far more attracted to her than he’d ever expected to be to his bride. After tasting her passion, he found he was no longer interested in seeking any others. Would that change after a few nights, the way it always had in the past?

Perhaps.

But there was a part of him that was already wondering whether he might be one of those husbands who cleaved to his wife rather than needing to be discreet. He supposed it would all depend on whether his new wife could satisfy all of his needs. If she could…

He certainly felt up to satisfying hers.

Ensuring her happiness felt of paramount importance to him. Therefore, he was not overly concerned with ensuring Sebastian was satisfied with his sister’s lot as well since Gregory knew that would also be his primary concern.

His gaze skittered over the guests and landed on his mother, who was beaming at him from her seat in the front row. There was something smugly anticipatory in her expression that had been there from the moment she’d returned to the carriage after bringing Tiffany her jewels for the day. That might be the source of his consternation.

His mother knew something he did not. Something about Tiffany. Something she was anticipating seeing him react to.

Gregory did not like being kept in the dark, no matter how gleeful his mother was over the ‘something’. He did not like waiting.

“She will be here soon enough; calm yourself,” Nathanial muttered from behind him.

Taking in a deep breath, Gregory made his muscles relax. He had not even noticed the way he’d begun to shift from side to side.

The music continued as the doors at the back of the church opened, and Sebastian escorted his mother inside. Rather than sitting down with her, he would return up the side aisle while Lady Louisa took center stage as Tiffany’s maid of honor so he could escort his sister down the aisle as well.

Once the Duchess of Bolton was seated, Sebastian quickly moved away, and the doors at the back opened again to admit Lady Louisa before closing behind her again. She did look stunning, he had to admit, and a murmur of admiration swept the crowd. A trickle of unease slid through Gregory.

Though he had not been consulted on the matter of Tiffany’s bridal party, he wondered how wise it was to have an acknowledged Diamond of the First Water as Tiffany’s maid of honor, the lady who preceded her down the aisle. What unflattering comparisons would the ton make when Tiffany walked down mere moments later?

Tiffany had turned out quite a bit prettier than expected, but Lady Louisa was one of the elite debutantes of the entire Season. She smiled radiantly as she glided down the aisle, perfectly comfortable with all eyes on her, confident in her beauty. If Gregory heard a single unflattering comparison after this… he did not know what he was going to do, but he was determined to protect Tiffany from the cruelties of the ton to the best of his ability.

He grit his teeth, doing his best to keep a pleasant expression on his face, despite his displeasure at the inevitable contrasts between Lady Louisa’s stunning beauty and Tiffany’s more subtle appeal. The ton was not known for appreciating subtlety.

To Lady Louisa’s credit, she did not milk the moment during her brief sojourn in the spotlight among the haut ton . The guests inside the church were the crème de la crème of the upper ten thousand by dint of Gregory and Sebastian’s exalted rank. Another young lady might have been tempted to pose and preen, hoping to draw a gentleman’s eye and make her own match, but Louisa quietly took her place across from him and Nathanial, then turned to face the back of the church.

The organ music paused, the silence hanging in the air for a dramatic moment, then it began again, this time playing the wedding march. The music swelled as the guests stood, turning to face the double doors as they opened at the back of the church.

Tiffany, on her brother’s arm, stepped into the room, and it was like all the air had been sucked out of it.

She wore a veil that trailed out behind her, twice the length of the train of her dress as she walked down the aisle, but had left her face uncovered by it. The gasps of shock, the gaping open mouths as the ton got their first good look at the bride would have been amusing under other circumstances. Today, though, he was one of the afflicted.

Though Gregory had realized she was prettier than her brother had described her, though she’d been even prettier on the night of their engagement ball than he’d seen her before, that had not prepared him for today. She looked herself, yet so much more at the same time.

Her blushing cheeks were rosy against creamy skin that had often appeared sallow when against the oranges and yellows she favored. Even the mint green… even the blue ruffle… both had hinted at the possibilities, but neither had fully realized her beauty. The icy blue of the dress had somehow injected color into her where there had been little before. Her hair seemed brighter, richer, with blonde and red highlights glinting from the thick tresses of curls. The dress accentuated her curves, embracing and rejoicing in them. Gregory had not realized how much the lines of her dresses had made her appear unfashionable, how unflattering her previous silhouettes had been.

Something tugged on his jacket, and he realized that Nathanial was pulling him back into position.

He’d taken a step toward Tiffany without even realizing it, the sudden, primal instinct to leap forward and claim what was his before any of the encroaching males who had suddenly realized what a gem they’d missed out on could try to take his place.

But they could not because she was marrying him.

None of them had seen her. Not truly. Not until now.

He’d called her a swan because she reminded him of one, in her movements, in her grace. In this moment, the endearment felt almost prophetic. As a child, he’d been read the story of The Ugly Duckling, and now he felt as though he was watching it be played out right before his eyes.

Tiffany had blossomed into a beautiful swan, the likes of which easily rivaled Lady Louisa for the title Diamond of the First Water. Why she’d hidden her beauty so was a mystery, but the truth of it could not be denied.

Gregory stepped back into place, watching her come forward, a tremulous smile on her lips. As she came closer, he could see the anxiety in her hazel eyes, which helped him push his own nerves away completely, so he could be there for her to lean on. He smiled at her encouragingly as she and Sebastian came to a halt, waiting for Father Patrick to go through the ritual of Sebastian giving her away.

Giving her to Gregory.

Sebastian gave Gregory a glare as he placed Tiffany’s hand in Gregory’s. For once, Gregory had no desire to twit his friend. He gave Sebastian as reassuring a smile as he could, utterly sincere, and saw his friend’s face relax.

Yes, Gregory could be unserious, perhaps the most so of their coterie of dukes, but that did not mean he was always flippant. When it came to this marriage, to Tiffany, he felt the weight of his responsibility to her in much the same way he felt the weight of his dukedom to the people under his care. He had no desire to jest or make light of either responsibility.

When his fingers closed around hers, he felt the oddest sense of possessive triumph.

Mine.

Tiffany

From the moment she stepped into the church on Sebastian’s arm to the moment when she heard herself saying ‘I do’ as she stared into Gregory’s dark eyes, Tiffany felt as though she was moving through a dream world. It did not seem real. It could not be real.

Then the ceremony was ending, and Gregory was pulling her forward for the kiss… their lips met and held. Clung. Tiffany shuddered as the memory of the way he’d kissed her before, the things he’d done to her, rolled through her. Her entire body quivered in memory.

It was no chaste kiss.

Then it was over.

Too quickly.

Except as soon as she remembered they had an audience, she realized it had likely not been over quickly enough. Father Patrick appeared slightly scandalized but also resigned.

Taking her arm, Gregory led her back down the aisle, and she caught a glimpse of her mother’s disapproving scowl. Sebastian had the same expression of scandalized resignation Father Patrick had. A few of the more censorious elders of the ton were also frowning, but most of their guests were smiling in either amusement or complacent acceptance.

She breathed out a sigh of relief as they moved down the aisle, the weight of her train and veil dragging at her, yet she felt as light as a feather. It was done. She was married. To a duke.

To Gregory.

To most young ladies of her age and stature, marrying a duke was the pinnacle achievement. Any duke. That he might be one of the young and handsome ‘tragic’ dukes would be preferable but not a requirement.

For Tiffany, if she’d had a true choice, she would have picked Gregory.

The schoolgirl crush she’d had on her brother’s handsome visiting friend had blossomed into so much more as she’d gotten to know him since that night in the library. Even now, knowing that he would eventually take a mistress, knowing it would break her heart when he did, she could not regret it.

For now, for however long it lasted, he was hers, and she was going to relish that time. Hopefully, by the time he lost interest in her, she would have at least one child to devote herself to and distract herself with. Perhaps, if he was discreet enough, she would not even know. That would be for the best if she could just pretend things were always as they were now.

Such thoughts were still depressing, and she pushed them to the back of her mind as she and Gregory stepped outside. The onlookers outside the church cheered even louder than they had for her arrival. She and Gregory paused at the top of the steps to wave before making their way down to the carriage bearing the Clarence coat of arms waiting first in line on the street.

Getting her dress and veil into the carriage with them was a process. The train could be cleverly detached, though it was not something she could do in front of such a large audience. Once they reached Bolton House for the wedding breakfast, certainly.

The carriage began to move, and they waved as they moved past the audience of people, who were looking between the carriage and the nobility beginning to exit the church.

At the end of the street, Gregory sighed with relief as the general audience was past.

“At last,” he murmured, reaching over to draw the curtains on the carriage windows.

“What are you doing?” Tiffany asked, somewhat curious, somewhat alarmed as he reached over her to let down the curtains on her side of the carriage as well. The space—which would feel rather large if not for her voluminous skirts and train taking up so much of it—had suddenly become an intimate enclosure.

Eventually, she knew she and Gregory would be alone. She looked forward to it even, after their stolen moments at their engagement ball. But she was not prepared to do such things in a moving carriage… and they could not possibly have that much time…

“This,” he said, putting his hands on her waist and hauling her onto his lap. Tiffany gasped in surprise as she found herself sitting on his hard thighs, something else hard digging into her bottom as he wrapped his hand around the back of her neck and pulled her down for a kiss.

It was a hot, needy kiss, far more passionate than the one they’d shared in the church, and Tiffany eagerly opened her mouth to be plundered. One hand caressed her neck as their tongues slid against each other in an intimate dance, then traced the lace of her gown down to where her breasts heaved. He cupped her over the fabric of her dress, and she whimpered, wriggling on his lap, as her gown suddenly felt horribly tight over her chest. His other hand was curved around her hip, holding her tight on his lap.

Her breasts ached as he squeezed, caressing her, touching her. She pressed her thighs together as the ache between them grew. The memory of his head beneath her skirts, the way his kisses were stealing her breath away, made her dizzy. She wondered if he was going to go beneath her skirts again, now, and whether she should attempt to stop him if he did. If she would even want to.

His mouth moved away from hers, moved over her jaw, down her throat until he was stymied by the necklace he’d given her to wear and the high neckline of her dress. Then his lips moved up again, working toward her ear. The hand on her breast moved up so he could tap his finger against the necklace.

“Do not forget,” he murmured in her ear, his hot breath and low, rumbling voice sending another wave of aching need through her. “I want to see you wearing nothing but your jewels today while you are in my bed.”

Heat flushed through her, embarrassment as much as desire. She was going to be naked in front of him. The very idea made her want to hide, yet… she wanted him to touch her again. More, she wanted to please him.

So, she nodded.

“Say ‘yes, Gregory’,” he ordered.

“Yes, Gregory,” she whispered obediently.

“Good girl.” The way he said it, combined with his teeth nipping at the soft skin on her throat, made her moan. His hands gripped her tighter. “We are going to spend as little time at this breakfast as possible.”

“Yes, Gregory.”

She was pretty sure he growled.

The carriage came to a halt, and they had to set themselves to rights… if Tiffany could be set to rights when her entire body was throbbing, aching for him to touch her again. To finish the concerto he’d begun on her senses.

If she was not so aroused, she would be furious at him for doing this to her right before she had to face all their guests. On the other hand, she no longer had room to be nervous about facing their guests when her body was so full of need for him.

As he helped her down from the carriage, she found that she was in complete accord with him. She, too, wanted to spend as little time at their wedding breakfast as possible.