A Bluestocking for the Duke: A Steamy Historical Regency Romance Novel (The Hale Sisters Book 1)
A Bluestocking for the Duke: Chapter 12

The doors opened, and Emma took a deep breath. Before her, stood the summit. No one had ever called it that. The aisle in a church was a beautiful thing, and to walk down it, according to most women, was a dream come true. It wasn’t precarious, it wasn’t slippery, and there was no risk of falling, but to Emma, that was how it felt.

Emma wasn’t exactly an adventurous person. The thought of standing at the top of a mountain sounded terrifying. And yet, right then, she had no other choice. She walked. On either side, she was flanked by her immediate family. The small consolation was that there were only a few people here, watching her every step bring her closer to the peak. Up there, beside Colin was too high up, she thought. Too far off the ground for the air to retain any heat, any oxygen.

If she kept walking, if she joined him there, up the steps, to the altar, she would never come back down. And despite that, she didn’t have a choice. If Emma hadn’t the guts to end this before, she certainly didn’t have them to end it now. She was as good as trapped.

Colin had the perfect face for a gambling table. At that moment, no one could have known if he was happy, sad, emotional, or apathetic. He hid it well. To everyone in the room they were both nervous.

Emma joined him at the altar. Everything was a blur. The vicar’s words were monotone, droning on in her ear while she looked at Colin, searching his eyes for something that would bring her back down. Could there be a part of him, even small, that loved her?

Out in the pews, she saw her parents and sisters. Colin’s family sat there as well. In their eyes was nothing but joy, nothing but love and admiration. So strange when up here, there was nothing but two unhappy people going through the motions.

If God truly was in that church, then he knew how ridiculous the entire charade was. He knew the tears that Emma was holding back, and he knew whatever was going on behind Colin’s statue of a face. The only people they were fooling were their families.

Emma said her vows. She’d memorized them, and said them so plainly because she hated to make a promise like that with any of her heart. She would keep her promise, but to care for and stand beside someone who merely regretted her was the greatest perversion of marriage there was.

But what did that matter?

Colin took her by the hand, his shaking fingers holding the wedding band. He reached out as if, at any moment, he was ready to pull away. But he never did. He slipped the ring onto her finger, and she closed her eyes, a sharp pain running through her chest.

“With this ring, I thee wed.”

He looked her in the eyes for the first time that day. Something dark was hiding under the surface, yet she could not read him through it all. She desperately wanted things to go back to the way they were. Even when they’d fought before, nothing had made her feel as distressed as this. When they fought before, there was always this magnetism underneath everything that drove them together with abandon. Now, it seemed like he was afraid to even touch her.

“With my body I thee worship, and with all my worldly goods I thee endow.”

That promise was the most painful of all: his duty to treat her with affection and love was just another act. He would not do it for her. He would do it for God. Here she was, trapped in a lie she could not go back on.

“In the name of the father, of the son, and of the holy ghost, Amen.”

     Emma’s heart was in her throat, and even though she felt sick to her stomach, she smiled, waving at the guests who settled at the banquet table around her. The ceremony had passed quickly, without much of a look on Colin’s face but pure stoicism. Everyone had remarked how nervous he looked and that he was trying so hard not to get emotional, yet Emma knew the truth. He felt as empty as she did, facing the remainder of her life with a sinking feeling.

Now at the breakfast table, Emma was busy trying to forget and sneaking another glass of champagne when no one was looking. The alcohol warmed her, making her scalp feel like the deadened limb you’d sat on for an hour.

     The banquet was beautiful. Gold, glittering decorations, and vibrant red tulips ornamented the dining room. A skilled piano player ran their hands over the keys, their fingers as dexterous and swift as a school of fishes. Joyous music filled the room. Emma sipped at her champagne, her eyes finding Colin. He was happily talking to friends of his, with big, animated expressions like he’d never been happier.

     Emma hadn’t come around as easily to lying. The physical discomfort of her sorrow was enough to make the act impossible. Colin shook his friends’ hands and then turned towards her with purpose. She stared at him. In fact, she’d hardly said a word to him since they’d exchanged vows. All around them, guests were laughing excitedly and sharing stories.

“You look miserable,” Colin muttered.

Emma smiled, but her eyes remained detached from the gesture. “Is this more suitable?”

“Emma,” he sighed. “Can you try? For your sister?”

She glanced across the table. Harriet waved excitedly, beaming ear-to-ear. Emma smiled back, trying her best to look happy and carefree. She turned back to Colin. “What should it matter to you?”

He breathed in sharply. “Just for tonight,” he said. “Just one night. Once we get back to Terrel, you can freeze me out as much as you like.”

Emma exhaled. She popped a grape in her mouth and leaned back, thinking it over. Something about him seemed different. She had said it so many times, though. She kept hoping his heart was genuine, but the facade kept cracking. It was devastating each time. Another heartbreak felt like it would kill her. For all the time they’d told their lies, she had felt something. Even when they first met, she’d seen a softer side to him.

Would he ever be capable of showing that to her when they were alone? Could he show her something that she could hold onto?

“Please,” he said.

After a short look, she nodded. It was just one more night. She could agree to that. After this, they had an entire week of solitude with which they would not have to pretend to feel anything remarkable.

Breakfast ended without a hitch. Some of the guests said their goodbyes, while others retired to the parlor to play games, talk, and enjoy the afternoon. Lucy sat at the pianoforte. Adam leaned on the instrument and watched her. Once she finished, he leaned in and whispered something in her ear. At first, she looked disgusted by the suggestion, but after what appeared to be some shameless begging on his behalf, she rolled her eyes and agreed.

Adam looked up. “Everyone, everyone,” he said. “I would like to say a couple words.”

Everyone quieted, taking their seats on the couches and around the edges of the room. Adam smiled. “I have to be honest; I do not know what love feels like. I love my family, my friends, but the thought of wanting to spend the rest of my life with someone is just so…foreign.” He laughed nervously. “And despite this, I always expected to find myself married before my dear brother said his vows. And that, my friends, is why the new Duchess of Radford is so very special.”

Emma stepped back, breath hitching, when everyone turned to look at her. In her heart, she knew the Duke hadn’t married her for love but for money. Despite this, Adam had always insisted that Colin felt something. He knew him better than anyone, but Emma still didn’t know if she could believe him.

“My brother has changed as of late, and although I have always admired him, I have been thrilled with what I have seen in him these past months.” Lucy cleared her throat and looked up at Adam. He grimaced at her before turning back to the crowd. “I could get into all the emotional detail, but in the spirit of my brother changing and growing, I will leave the room with this: My brother hates dancing. Hates it. And yet, for some reason, he has looked particularly happy when his bride joined him. So, I propose, with the help of Miss Lucy Hale, that we make some room for the Duke and Duchess to share one dance.”

The room clapped, waving at Emma and Colin. Emma blushed. She’d expected Colin to be aggravated by the proposal, but he had a simple smile fixed on his face. He walked up to Adam and gave him a hug before meeting Emma in the middle of the floor. Lucy began playing a song in three-fourths time, perfect for a waltz.

Colin took her into his arms. The guests around the room chatted amongst themselves while they watched. The music was slow, fitting every movement and every shake in her fingertips perfectly. He held her just a bit closer than he had before. They were married, after all. She smiled, holding in her mind all the moments they had shared when things felt easy. The first day she’d met him and he fed table scraps to Lemon Drop. Every joke he told her. Every moment he teased her. She missed the way he kissed her or laughed quietly at the dinner table with her when no one else was listening.

     “Your Grace,” she said. “You seem better at dancing today.”

     He smiled sheepishly. “I have been practicing. See? One, two, three, four,” he counted.

     Emma drew her head back before snorting a laugh. “It is one,” she placed her foot out. “Two.” She placed her heel back. “And three.” She pivoted.

     “I believe I can count, Emma,” he said.

     “Mm.” She tilted her head. “But you cannot. The count is one, two, three.”

     “Four!” He stepped.

     “You are making the third step into two, Your Grace. It should be fluid. All one movement.”

     He smiled, mouth hanging open as if most of him knew he was wrong, yet he still wanted to give her a hard time over it. “Looks like all that dancing with Lemon Drop failed to change a thing.”

     “You danced with…the dog?”

     “In my library, alone. I have some dignity,” he said, his thumb rubbing her hand softly. “I would never tell a soul.”

     “Except for me?”

     “Lady Radford,” he smiled. “We are married now. If you have not figured out by now how foolishly in love I am with this dog, then you will know soon enough.” Colin snorted. “Rest assured, when my sister marries, she will take Lemon Drop with her, and he will no longer rob you of my affections.”

     “Goodness,” she sighed. “What a romantic thing to say on the night of your wedding.” It was strange he’d said that Lemon Drop was currently what was denying her his attachment. It wasn’t the dog, nor did she wish to blame it on him. But just for today, maybe there was still something here. When he treated her like this, it was hard not to feel her heart break all over again.

“Your Grace,” she whispered, her voice low enough so their conversation was completely private.

“Yes?” His eyes were as gentle as a soft touch to the cheek.

“If I said something, I—” She paused. “I am sorry.”

     The song ended. The room filled with the sounds of cheering and clapping. Colin looked at her. His throat bobbed, and he bowed, giving her a curt nod when he’d finished. So she had said something. If only he would tell her what it was instead of making her fumble her way through an apology. But he had always been like that. He never liked to talk about the things that hurt him. That would be admitting to weaknesses that he hated to admit he possessed.

Before she could say anything else, Colin guided Emma to the wall, where both families were gathered. Emma hugged her mother and father. Rose and Lucy sat; bodies squished together on the bench while they played a duet. Across the room, Adam attempted to rouse up some interest in a game of twenty questions.

“Are you prepared for the long journey back to Terrel tonight?” the baron asked. He held a glass of brandy in his hand.

     Colin shook his head. “It will not be too long. We are breaking the trip in half. We will spend the evening in an inn about halfway out.” Emma had some idea of how the week would go. There was no honeymoon, and due to this, Emma’s parents had offered to host The Dowager, Adam, and Rose for the week. Emma wasn’t entirely certain what she would do in an empty house as large as Terrell for a week, but she certainly would have many new surroundings to sketch.

     Margaret touched Emma’s arm. “Come with me,” she said. She guided Emma to the drinks table, where she grabbed them each a glass of wine. “Has Mama spoken with you?”

     “About…?”

     “Right.” Margaret sighed, taking a sip of wine. “Come, then.” She led Emma through the door, out into the foyer, and across the hall to the empty drawing room. She closed the door behind them. Margaret sat on the cream-colored sofa and beckoned Emma to sit.

     Emma swirled the glass, allowing the fruity scent to linger in front of her. She took a sip. “Is Mama supposed to talk to me about something?”

     “She failed to tell me, which made the evening of my wedding a little…shocking.” Margaret laughed nervously, eyes widening slightly as if recalling it.

     Emma closed her mouth. “I apologize?”

     Margaret swallowed hard as if she wasn’t entirely comfortable discussing it herself. “Are you aware that um, certain duties are required of you this evening before you go to sleep?”

     “What sort of duties?”

     Margaret rubbed her face with her hands and let out an exasperated sigh. “Think of it as the…the continuation of a kiss. Does that make sense?”

     Emma’s lips parted, thinking back to her evening in the library with Colin. Did Margaret mean that?  Emma nodded. “Do I need to…”

     “This is a way in which you and your husband can…erm…begin the process of childbearing.” Margaret’s face was red. “Your husband will know the proper steps, but I feel it is my duty to at least warn you of your duties this evening.”

     Emma nodded. Her hand shook.  “Warn me?”

     “You will be fine, I promise. If you are lucky, you may even enjoy yourself. Just take your time. Go slow.”

     Emma had never seen her older sister have so much difficulty discussing something before. Usually, Margaret was bubbly, flirtatious, and at times even a little improper.

     If these duties were anything like what Colin and she shared in the library, then she could feel nothing but anticipation, but would it be strange to do so again after all of their arguments? For the remainder of the afternoon, Emma tried not to think of it, but by the time she was in her carriage with Colin, she was hardly able to look him in the eyes. The air was thick and silent. They barely shared much more than pleasantries. She felt like a large secret was filling the space between them, and only he knew what it was.

     Two rooms. Emma didn’t know much, but she did know about a marriage bed. A married couple often slept beside each other unless, like her father, the husband had a raucous snore.

     Colin had booked her a private room. She could have interpreted such a gesture as thoughtful, however, it occurred to her that maybe his reasoning was due to his own comfort rather than hers.

     After dinner, she had waited for some time, but Colin never arrived. Anxiety built in her chest. Perhaps she was the one who was supposed to find him. Maybe that was her responsibility. She got out of her bed, still dressed in her green dress. It had started to itch a little and constrict in all the wrong places. Slowly Emma stepped across the room, her bare feet creaking against the floor as she walked to the door that adjoined the two rooms.

     Tentatively, her shaking fingers took the doorknob, and she twisted it. The door scratched against the uneven floor as she opened it. Colin had snuffed out all the candles except for the light from the fireplace, which crackled and popped. He lay back against the bed, staring at the ceiling. He looked at her briefly before he laid his head back down. “Can I help you?”

     Emma slowly walked over to the bed, the floor cold beneath her feet. She got on the bed, sitting beside him on her knees and looking down. “Have I done something wrong?” she asked. “Is it too late? I wasn’t sure what I was meant to do.”

     “No.” He took a breath, and it rattled over his lips when he released it. “I am tired. It was a long day.”

“I thought you rarely slept.”

His mouth drew into a thin line, having so obviously been caught in a lie. “Sometimes.”

     Emma placed a shaking hand on his chest and slowly ran it across his sleep shirt, wrinkling the fabric. He clasped her hand; at first, it seemed he did it to stop her, but soon he was pushing his fingers in between hers. “There is something we must do,” she said. “Am I not correct?”

     He blinked, eyes trailing down to her mouth, the slope of her neck, the ridge of her collarbone, and the soft cleavage that peeked out the top of her dress. He chuckled. “What do you know of that?”

     She shook her head. “I recall you telling me you might be inclined to show me.”

     “I did.”

     She leaned over him, pressing a soft kiss to his mouth. He returned the gesture as soft and gentle as she had delivered it. She thought perhaps he would take her in his arms, but instead, he simply tucked a piece of hair behind her ear. “Now, Emma? Do you believe this is wise?”

     She responded with another kiss against his jaw and another on his throat. He exhaled softly. She used her fingers to unlace his shirt. She had spent too many nights wondering what he would look like without it covering him.

     “Mm.” He reached out and pulled her towards him, kissing her deeply. She continued working the closures of his shirt open, ghosting her fingers across his chest in the process. He caught her lips, and all of a sudden, the passion overwhelmed him. He pulled her closer, his kiss so desperate that it lacked all elegance or finesse. He sat up on the bed, giving her everything she had given to him tenfold. Then he pulled away and nudged her softly, so he had access to the closures on her dress. It was laced tightly. He undid the knots, and Emma released a deep breath. The gown and corset fell off her shoulders, revealing the thin, white shift beneath. She reached out, tugging at his shirt. Removing it had been at the forefront of her mind since she had sat on the bed.

     With a tug, he pulled the rest over his head, revealing his toned chest. Emma gasped softly, reaching out to touch him. His body was hard beneath her fingers, so foreign from her delicate skin and the soft jiggle of her thighs and stomach. He groaned, reaching out and tugging her shift over her head, leaving her completely naked. Her breath quickened, and her palms were clammy with apprehension. Never in her wildest dreams had she imagined she’d be sitting beside a man, completely naked, and feel no shame.

     He looked at her, even hungrier than he had before. He pushed her down, grabbing her wrists and pinning her against the bed. “Emma,” his voice rasped, his eyes glazed over with a desire she didn’t know someone could feel. Not for anyone, but especially not for her. “Do you feel it?” he asked.

     She swallowed hard and shook her head. He leaned down, pressing his lips against the peak of her breast. She moaned, body writhing like an open flame.

     “Do you feel how I want you?” he asked, running his tongue across her nipple. She whimpered. “Do you feel how badly I need you?” He took her other breast between his lips, sucking on it until she whimpered again. “And you, Emma? Do you feel just as desperate?”

     She nodded, eyes clenched shut, anticipating the moment he would touch her again. Her body jolted as he released one of her wrists and dragged his fingertips down her body. She squirmed, feeling him brush against her neck, then smooth over the valley in between her breasts, over her ticklish stomach, and onto her thighs. He dug his fingertips into her thighs and then pressed his mouth against hers. With her free hand, she tugged at his wavy hair, feeling the softness between her fingertips.

     When he had pleased her in the library, she had remembered feeling agonized, as if she needed something so badly. She felt it, building and building, and when the feeling finally peaked, she felt incredible, like she was burning alive and better off for it. Now she was beginning to feel the inklings of a burn. She bucked her hips, not understanding why.

     “Do you want me to make you feel as I did that evening?” he asked, his voice a whisper. She nodded. He ran his fingertip up her thigh until he was close to her heat. He stopped, and she bared her teeth in frustration. “Beg me,” he commanded.

     She shook her head, imagining how close his hand was to her core. She didn’t know how to beg; she didn’t even know what she was begging for. She writhed, her hips feeling hot, her legs feeling restless, and her chest fluttering with anticipation. “Please,” she whispered. “Please, Colin, please.”

     He groaned before his fingers pressed against her heat. Emma gasped, daggering her fingernails into his back. He rubbed her in circles until she was panting underneath him, working her other hand desperately across his chest. He slowly pressed one finger inside her, and she rolled her eyes back, relaxing as best as she could as his finger plunged in and out of her.

     “If only you knew,” he grunted. “How much I am holding back.”

     “Why?”

     “Because when I finally make you mine, I want you to need me just as badly.” His voice was hot in her ear. He took her leg by the knee and lifted it back until her thigh was pressed against her chest, giving him better access to add a second finger. She moaned as they entered her, pushing at a spot that made her feel like she was on the brink of collapse. She sighed, and he moved faster within her before reaching out his thumb and rubbing the crest of her lips, where she felt the most intense sensation.

     “Is that what you need?” he whispered, mouth pressed against her cheek. She answered with another moan. She closed her eyes, savoring the feeling that tingled through every inch of her body. At first, she’d been holding her whimpers, but now, she couldn’t stop herself. It felt better when she relaxed and let her body do what it needed.

     As he circled her bud at a steady pace, she felt that feeling again. It was building within her, rising like smoke and clinging to every inch of her body.  It seared against her, this burning need that she couldn’t go much longer without. She squirmed under his body.

     “Shh,” he whispered. It wasn’t until he’d said that, that she realized she had cried out. She threw her head back, body arching against the bed. Her legs shook, her body hot and sweaty. Her face contorted, and she cried out once more until the feeling was so intense that it robbed her of voice altogether. She reached out, fingers twisting the sheets and her leg kicking at the mattress.

     And then, the fire subsided, leaving her overwhelmed, bubbling like a flute of champagne. She sighed. Colin offered a lopsided grin and laughed softly. He got out of bed and stood up, eyes running over her bare skin. He reached down, opening the closure of his trousers. “What are you doing?” Emma asked.

     He smiled, amused. “Did you think we were finished? I was merely getting you ready.”

     She sat up, eyes widened. “That’s not…there’s more?”

     He nodded, pulling his trousers and undergarments down. Emma gasped, her eyes traveling down to his length. It was hard and erect. He got back onto the bed and laid beside her, his member against her hip. He pressed his lips against hers gently and kissed her slowly.

After a moment, he kneeled between her legs, positioning himself so close to her that the tip of his manhood was pressing against her. He stared at her, smiling. “I was surprised you came here of your own accord.”

     She looked up at him, biting her lip, her cheeks red with embarrassment. It felt strange to admit to him that she’d wanted it so badly when she felt like she’d spent most of her life running from such a thing. There was more to come. She’d never seen a man naked before, and she had some idea of what would happen, but she was too nervous to ask.

“It is my…my duty,” she said. Colin stopped, pulling away from her entrance. He tumbled to the side, laying back facing her.

     She sat up. “Colin? Did I…?”

     “It is not a duty,” he said, his voice resigned.

     “It is,” Emma replied. Her sister had told her as much.

     “No,” Colin stood up, gathering his clothing off the ground and tugging it back on. “Not for me. Not in my bedchamber.”

     Emma’s jaw hung open, confused by what she had done wrong.

     “Go to sleep,” he said. “It’s late, and we leave right after breakfast.”

     Emma got up, grabbing her chemise off the floor and holding it against the front of her naked body for cover. He walked her over to the door that separated their rooms. Once she was inside, he shut the door.

     She dropped her chemise, standing in the middle of her room completely naked, mind hurtling, trying to figure out what exactly went wrong when for much of the night, she was feeling perfectly satisfied.

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