Page 32 of The Duke’s Indecent Scandal (Indecent Dukes #1)

Chapter Thirty-One

T iffany

Life in Clarence House was completely different from life in her old home.

To begin with, no one criticized her. Ever. Not her husband. Not his mother. While Sebastian had never been critical of her, exactly, he had hardly been beaming with approval all the time, either. He loved her, she knew that, but he did not light up when she walked into a room the way both Gregory and his mother did.

And the very idea of her own mother lighting up when she walked into a room was laughable. Her mother only did that for Sebastian.

Why not me?

A question she’d ceased asking herself long ago but which had begun popping up into her head again by her second day as the Duchess of Clarence.

Gregory’s mother had reason to dislike her, if anyone did. Tiffany had taken over her rooms, supplanted her position in the household, taken on her title, and she was now the dowager duchess rather than the duchess. Yet, the dowager was delighted by the change in her position rather than resentful. She’d insisted that Tiffany call her ‘mama.’

Tiffany felt as though she was living in a dream.

In some ways, she was. Newly wedded, they spent the first few days after their wedding eschewing events, which was wholly permissible. Though, since they were remaining in London, eventually, they would need to emerge from their intimate cocoon. At the moment, Gregory’s mother was doing the rounds for them, but they could only stay away for so long.

Between learning the ropes of the household and the dowager duchess transferring duties to her, Tiffany found very little time to sit and reflect or think because her new husband seemed to want to take up all of her time. Not that she had any major objections, though she would have liked more time in the music room. Gregory did not have a harp there, but he assured her that he would buy her one and that he was having the music room at his estate prepared for when the Season was over.

At night, she slept in his bed after being thoroughly and wickedly pleasured. In the morning, she woke there to his head between her thighs. During the day, whenever she had a free moment, Gregory seemed to know of the break in her schedule, and he sought her out wherever she might be—the library, the conservatory, her own bedroom… He used his mouth as much as his cock, sometimes even more than.

The first time they used her bed was in the middle of the day, during which time he put her on top. Not that she was in control. No, he might have professed that he was teaching her to ride him, but in truth, his hands on her hips kept him in command of her body and senses.

It felt like her body was always buzzing from either arousal or satisfaction, which was a very distracting way to live. But she did not want to stop, either.

The only time she was in no danger of having her skirts tipped up, or removed, was when she was visiting his sisters, which she made a point to do every day. They were delightful and treated her as a favorite aunt, an attitude she was all too happy to encourage. Gregory visited as well, dealing extremely gently with Betty while he was there, though she looked to be coming out of her shell around him now that her uncle had disappeared, and she was not being held to blame.

Tiffany had done some gentle questioning of her own, but it was clear that Betty had no idea her uncle had been involved with the old duke’s death, nor did she have any idea where he was now. Likely, that was because Montblanc was smart enough to know that keeping such knowledge from her was the best way to keep her safe. Unfortunately, it did very little toward solving the mystery surrounding her father’s death.

On the fourth day of their marriage, Gregory’s mother informed them that they would need to attend the Windham ball the following night.

“It is a major event. You cannot miss it with impunity,” his mother said, giving him a stern look when he protested. “The Duke of Windham is firmly established in Society, as is his wife. You would not keep Tiffany from being acknowledged by a fellow duchess, would you?”

Tiffany blinked and looked at Gregory. She had not thought of it in such terms. Though the dowager had spent much of her time in the country prior to her husband’s death, she had a discerning eye for how Society worked and what was expected. Far more discerning than Tiffany’s own, she was realizing. She had only ever done what her mother told her to do. The dowager was greatly encouraging toward Tiffany making her own decisions, but she did not yet have nearly the length and breadth of knowledge the dowager possessed.

“Very well,” Gregory scowled. “If we must.”

“You must. And stay for at least an hour.” The dowager paused, then amended her statement. “At least an hour, during which time everyone can see you. Do not think to sneak away for half of it.”

The expression on Gregory’s face was that of a put-upon, aggrieved male, and Tiffany lifted her napkin to her lips to hide her giggle. She did not think Gregory would approve, and during several of their lovemaking sessions, he’d shown a distinct willingness to spank her over the smallest of infractions. Not that the spankings hurt very much, but it had become a bit of a game for her to see how far she could push him and what she could get away with before he swatted her bottom for it.

She was fairly certain that giggling at his masculine distress would qualify.

“Very well, mother.”

The dowager glanced at Tiffany, who lowered her napkin and smiled.

“Of course, mama.”

Beaming at her, the dowager nodded happily. She was beginning to become used to the dowager’s constant approval, though she always looked at Gregory to be sure that he was not hurt by the turn in circumstances. This time, he happened to be looking at her. Catching her eye, he winked.

Happily, Tiffany returned her attention to her plate. She loved living at Clarence House. She loved being Gregory’s wife.

She wished they could be like this all the time. But she supposed one must return to the real world, eventually.

Her stomach twisted, and she tried to ignore it, but she knew why. The Windham ball was going to be a major event. That meant that she would see her mother for the first time since her mother had tried to frighten her over being bedded. Unless, of course, she invited her mother to come visit her at-home either this afternoon or tomorrow.

But she did not want to.

Perhaps it would be better to face her mother at a ball. Her mother was often more pleasant in company.

Tiffany frowned down at her plate as the thought suddenly occurred to her that her mother might be more pleasant because she did not want others to know what she said to Tiffany. That she might not want witnesses to her more critical statements. Because she knew they would not agree.

Like with the color of Tiffany’s dresses. Or her fashion. Or the fact that neither Gregory nor his mother had uttered a single reproach of her conversational choices, despite having been her constant companions for several days now. They were just as high on the instep as her own mother; they knew just as well what was and was not appropriate, yet…

Yes, perhaps seeing her mother with others around them was for the best. Not only to curb what her mother might say to her, but to curb some of the things Tiffany now wanted to say to her mother if she could only find the courage.

She took in a deep breath. Tonight, she would be wearing one of her new dresses. One that made her feel beautiful. The most beautiful.

Gregory

“My God…” Gregory murmured as his wife came down the stairs, frankly staring. He remembered telling Sebastian that she was a pretty girl when he’d kissed her.

That did not do her justice, not now that she knew what to wear to her advantage.

Hearing him, she looked up from where she was watching her feet as she walked, her dress lightly caressing the ground, despite her holding the silk skirts aloft. Her sapphires sparkled, matching the sapphire blue fabric of her gown to perfection, the gold setting glimmering like the gold embroidery decorating her gown.

The front of the dress dipped in a low V, revealing the tops of her creamy breasts. Gold scrollwork decorated the neckline and came down to her waist in the front. It also shimmered from her puffed sleeves and the bottom of her skirt. The gold embroidery started several inches above the hem of her skirt in an ornate pattern that was curved on the bottom like an upside-down heart, with the point elongated to reach halfway up her thighs. Just below the center of the upside-down hearts was another small burst of gold embroidery, like little tiaras decorating just above the hem of her gown, all the way around.

Her skin glowed in the lamplight, her cheeks flushed a fetching pink, and her hair revealed to be a rich mahogany when she wore colors that complimented her. The gold on her dress and around her jewels found matching gold glints in her hair, adding to the effect.

“Do you like it?” she asked nervously, reaching the bottom of the stairs.

Gregory came forward, taking her gloved hand in his and lifting it to his lips for a kiss as he stared into her eyes.

“You are Queen of the Swans, love,” he said truthfully.

If he’d known how enjoyable marriage could be, Gregory would not have dreaded it so much. Though, in the lead-up to his wedding, his dread had grown less and less due to his bride. That was the largest contributing factor to his enjoyment. He doubted he would be so content with a woman other than Tiffany.

Walking into the Windham ball with her on his arm had filled him with a sense of quiet pride. She was everything he’d dreamed of in a duchess and so much more. He would not even mind fending off the many admirers he expected her to have trailing after her, as long as she remained his.

And he intended to ensure that she had no need to look to others to satisfy her needs. Not today, not tomorrow, not ever.

The Duke and Duchess of Windham greeted him and Tiffany into the fold with aplomb. They’d been married some years before, but Lydia, as the duchess asked Tiffany to call her, was not that much older than Tiffany. He could tell it meant a lot to Tiffany to have the other duchess welcome her so warmly.

His mother was just behind them, also exchanging greetings with the pair. Gregory waited for her to finish before escorting both of his ladies to the ballroom to be announced. Every eye turned to look at them, of course, seeing as they had been out of Society for several days now.

Gregory had no need to dissemble as he proudly led his new duchess into the room.

Murmurs, stares… some admiring, some ripe with envy, others in total shock at how Lady Tiffany had transformed from a duke’s plain sister to a stunning duchess.

Gregory turned his head about, looking for any of his fellow dukes, but it was difficult to spot any singular person in the crowd. Tiffany pressed closer to his side as if nervous from all the attention, and he mentally cursed Society’s strictures, which would cause tongues to wag if he did something as obvious as put his arm around her waist in support. He put his hand over hers where it rested on his arm, which was the best he could do for now.

Bending his head down, he whispered in her ear.

“Chin up, my Queen.”

As he’d hoped, the soft encouragement helped to bolster her, and her chin lifted just as he’d wanted her to. She looked every inch a duchess.

“Oh, there is Mr. Little and his family,” his mother said from his other side. “I wanted to introduce you.”

Gregory caught Tiffany’s eye, and she smiled and nodded. His mother had mentioned the Little family again recently. He had a feeling she was taking them on as a cause célèbre now that he was married and no longer needed her ‘assistance’. He had no objection. Like his mother, he did not enjoy seeing anyone cut out of Society because of their family’s disapprobation, especially when the reason was because a member dared to make their own choices about their own life.

If he could lend some ducal weight to the Little family’s standing in Society, he was happy to do so, and he knew Tiffany agreed. Knowing more about her relationship with her own mother, he was sure she’d felt the threat of being cut out of the family if she stepped a foot wrong. Sebastian would have never allowed it, Gregory was fairly certain, but being ostracized by just her mother would be painful enough.

Personally, having seen the damage she’d caused to his wife, Gregory would be perfectly happy to give the Duchess of Bolton the cut direct, but without a visible reason, so soon after marrying her daughter, the repercussions within wider Society were unpredictable. And he did not want to cause Tiffany any further pain. The best they could likely do was avoid the woman as much as possible.

His mother led them over to the Littles, who were standing on the side of the ballroom. Gaining admittance to the events by dint of Mr. Little’s relations did not guarantee acceptance. Despite the crush, there was a small space around them, as if no one dared get too close for fear of the Earl of Stilton’s displeasure. As the Duke of Clarence, Gregory did not give a damn about the Earl of Stilton or his likely reaction to his outcast son and family being recognized and welcomed in front of the entire ton.

Mrs. Little’s eyes lit up with relief and warmth as Gregory’s mother came up to her, greeting her with cheek kisses as the surrounding members of the ton looked on with avid interest. She was a beautiful older woman, with two thin streaks of grey hair that started at her temples in a mass of gorgeous black locks that were pulled into a high coiffure decorated with cream and burgundy feathers that matched her dress.

“This is my son and his wife, the Duke and Duchess of Clarence. Gregory, this is Mrs. Little, her daughter, Miss Little, and her son, Mr. Ashwin Little. Have you met Mr. Little before?”

“If I did, it was eons ago,” Gregory said with a smile to the man in question. “And, unfortunately, I do not remember.”

“I do not believe we have, Your Grace,” the man said, bowing deeply, an action which his son followed him in, though there was some consternation in the son’s expression. Perhaps trying to decide what to make of being introduced by a duke while being eschewed by the rest of Society. His father’s eyes had lit up with appreciation and also some calculation, which Gregory did not blame him for. He would understand exactly what was happening and why Gregory’s acquaintance could be good for his family.

“Your Grace.” Mrs. Little curtsied deeply, to the exact correct degree, at the same time as her daughter. Miss Kalina truly was a beauty, with her dark, fathomless eyes, straight nose, and black hair, all set off to perfection by the rose-pink dress trimmed with cream that she was wearing. Some of the ton would not welcome her due to her darker complexion, but she was beautiful enough that she would draw other, less tendentious admirers if she was given the chance to set herself up in Society.

Which was the point of speaking with them now, so formally, in front of so many eyes.

“A pleasure to meet your acquaintance,” Gregory said, bowing over Mrs. Little’s hand and dropping a kiss on the back of it. “How are you enjoying the sights of London?”

A much safer question to ask about viewing the city at large than to ask how they were enjoying the events. Certainly, one that allowed for great conversation as Mr. and Mrs. Little began to recount the places they’d been visiting. The museums, the gardens, the shops, which allowed Gregory and Tiffany to suggest their own recommendations.

A few minutes later, Matthew and Christian joined them, which solidified the ton ’s interest. Gregory scowled at Christian and shifted, so Tiffany moved a little farther away from him. He was used to seeing ladies’ reactions when they got their first glimpse of Christian’s handsome visage, but he did not like seeing it on his wife’s face, even if she did recover quickly.

Very soon, Tiffany and Miss Little were in the midst of a group of admirers while Gregory and his fellow dukes had shifted to the side. A few of the other young men who were present at the ball had approached the younger Little, and they were now enthusiastically talking about the latest horse races. From what Gregory could overhear, Ashwin was not only interested, but already fairly knowledgeable.

He kept most of his attention on his friends and Tiffany, though, ensuring that none of the admirers now surrounding her and Miss Little were becoming too emboldened. As much as he wanted to step in and lay claim to what was his, he would wait for the first waltz.

She had not gone through her first Season as a debutante, which he could not regret. He would not want to risk her marrying anyone but him. It would not have gone the same, regardless. Along with her clothing, her entire demeanor had changed now that they were married. She would enjoy the Season far more as his duchess than as a debutante under her mother’s wing… but he wanted her to feel the thrill of being admired and desired.

Even if he did have to grit his teeth against punching them in their moon-eyed faces and carrying her off over his shoulder to claim what was his. He could endure that… for her.