Free Second Son of a Duke by Gwen Hayes

One

    Theodore Maxmillian Middleton stared at the stranger lying in his bed and knew there wasn’t enough drink in the world to make this situation bearable. He’d kill his brother for this. Tomorrow. Right now, he needed to focus on what the hell he was going to do about her.
    Bloody hell. What was he going to do about her?
    She stared back at him, stark white and wide-eyed. Good God, she was shaking. He felt like a cad and he hadn’t so much as touched her.
    “Lady…” He couldn’t remember her first name. He’d never felt like such a fool. “…Fairchild, we don’t have to do this tonight.”
    There it was. That little chin popped up just enough so that she vaguely resembled the chit he’d met more than handful of times in his lifetime, but didn’t know the first thing about.
    “It’s Lady Middleton now, though perhaps it’s best if you call me by my Christian name at this point.”
    Did he even know her Christian name? Best to just brush right past that, he’d figure it out tomorrow. “Of course. As I was saying—”
    “It’s Juliette. As in, I take thee, Juliette Grace Fairchild …” She waved her hand as if to say etcetera. “You should jot it down somewhere in case you are in need of it again.”
    Excellent. Married twelve hours and she was already sniping at him. Tomorrow, when he killed his brother, it would be slow and unnecessarily painful. “Yes, well, it’s probably recorded in the family Bible now; I’ll just look it up the next time.”
    Juliette crossed her arms in what appeared to be disdain. She likely didn’t realize she framed her bosom to him in that position. Oddly, in all the chaos of the last twelve hours, he hadn’t noticed how ample that bosom was. He didn’t think he should be noticing now. But there it was, encased in a sheath of white linen, taunting him.
    His but not his.
    Granted, she was his wife, this was their wedding night, and she was in his bed. However, they were virtual strangers. Their marriage was a farce, though, unfortunately, a legal one. He’d assumed that she’d prefer to have her own chambers, and God knows there were enough of them in this house.
    “I thought you might wish to wait to practice marital relations. There’s no rush.” There. Wasn’t he a fine man? How many new husbands were so understanding?
    “I’d like to get it over with, Lord …I mean, Teddy.”
    Come again? He couldn’t see it, but he could swear she’d just hurled a brick at his chest. All the air expelled from his lungs with the crush of it. “Over with?” he repeated.
    “With as few theatrics as possible. I’ve had quite enough of them this day.”
    “Theatrics?”
    She nodded her prim little head, the curtain of blonde bouncing with the movement. “Neither of us is looking forward to it, but putting off the inevitable won’t help. Let’s just dispense with the awkward deed and hope for the best. I can’t bear the thought of dreading it every day until it’s done, so if you don’t mind, I’d like for you to begin now.”
    “Now? You’d like me to begin now?”
    “For Heaven’s sake, are you going to repeat everything I say as a question?”
    Teddy considered himself a fine man with moral character and plenty of mostly virtuous qualities. He’d done nothing to warrant this mess except follow the dictates of a duke, which he was honor bound to do. That the duke was also his brother and belonged in Bedlam did not change the fact that Teddy had little choice in the matter.
    But his patience had reached its limit.
    He shrugged off his overcoat and began undoing his cravat. “No, I shan’t question you any longer. You’re absolutely right, let’s rid you of your virginity and put this whole mess behind us.” He pulled his shirt from his breeches. “Well, what are you waiting for? Get naked.”
    * * *
    Juliette gasped. Not just at his vulgar words, but at all the skin he revealed when he threw his shirt to the floor. “Get naked?” she asked.
    Teddy