Delilah Marvelle – Prelude to a Scandal (страница 10)

The door edged open, and her father, Lord Marwood, whose lanky frame was still encased in full evening attire, hurried in. The deep, aging lines surrounding his blue eyes crinkled all the more as he grinned and held up a sizable, leather-bound book. “It took me half the night to find it amongst all the crates, but here it is.”

Justine sat up, surprised he hadn’t already retired. It was well past his usual hour of sleep and he still hadn’t entirely recovered from his long stay at Marshalsea. Their brief walk through Hyde Park earlier in the day had completely exhausted him. But at least he was eating again.

She smiled, more than pleased to see him.

“Restless?”

He nodded his graying head. “Yes. Though in a good way. It isn’t every day my daughter becomes a duchess.”

She quirked a brow at the book he still held up. “And what is that? My very last bedtime story?”

He chuckled. “No, no, no.” Striding the length of the room, he set the book beside her on the bed, atop the book her mother had just given her, and patted it enthusiastically. “‘Tis one of my earlier compilations. Before my days in South Africa. This here is what ultimately convinced the duke to become my patron. The man was only one and twenty at the time, you know, but even then he had an eye for a good thing.” He dragged a hand through thick, silvery hair and then dropped it to his side. “You should read it before going to bed. It should assist you in matters of the bedchamber.”

Justine bit back a laugh. It was obvious her mother and father had two entirely different opinions as to how she should conduct herself as duchess. Though she knew her mother’s advice was more in keeping with what London would want, she was nonetheless curious to see the book that had convinced Bradford to support her father all these years.

Justine smiled and glanced down at the book he’d placed beside her. She turned the large gold lettering right side up and blinked. “Principles of Animal Husbandry?” Gad almighty. “How … lovely. Thank you.”

How humiliating was more the word. She’d officially been categorized by her own father with all the sheep, cattle and horses. As opposed to all the far more interesting mammals he’d studied throughout the years. And what on earth did this say about Bradford’s tastes in copulation?

Her father cleared his throat. “The illustrations are quite good. Not to mention detailed. With the duke’s reputation, I’m more than certain you’ll make good use of it. Only this isn’t yours to keep, seeing it’s the only copy I have. Be sure to read it tonight and return it to me in the morning.”

Any insight on Bradford and his tastes would certainly be appreciated, as she had no intention of disappointing him or herself on their wedding night.

She bit her lip and glanced up. “Uh … Father? Might I ask a more involved question? About copulation?”

He tugged on the lapels of his jacket and grinned, proud to be of assistance. “Why, this is rather unexpected. You haven’t asked me an involved question since you were twelve.”

She let out a laugh. “That is because you’re notorious for answering questions before they’re even asked.”

He nodded. “So true. What is your question?”

Her grin faded, and she cleared her throat. “Do, uh … certain men have … well … how shall I say this … abnormal copulation habits? As in obsessive habits that may be a cause of concern for a woman?”

Both his bushy gray brows went up as his hold on his lapels tightened, causing his knuckles to go white. “Why do you ask?”

She shrugged, not wanting to betray what Bradford had confided to her. She had a feeling it wasn’t something he wanted everyone, especially her father, to know. “Curiosity is all.”

Lord Marwood released the tight hold on his coat, then scratched at his shaven chin for a moment. “In my opinion, a man who does in fact have any sort of abnormal copulation habits is most likely never to discuss it unless forced. Which makes it rather difficult for anyone to assess. But, as in nature itself, I would imagine there’s always some form of abnormality to be found within a species.” He pointed at her. “For example. You remember that one male Equus Burchelli whose mate had unexpectedly died? And how he kept returning to her body to mount it even though there was very little left of it for him to mount?”

Justine wrinkled her nose, remembering that all too well. Heaven forbid that was the sort of abnormality Bradford was referring to. It would certainly give a whole new meaning to the term until death did them part … “I wasn’t referring to that sort of abnormality. I was referring to a man’s urge to pleasure himself more than what would be considered necessary.”

“Oh. I see.” He exhaled through his nostrils and shrugged. “Unlike animals, humans have an annoying tendency to censor their behaviors, which doesn’t allow for anyone to come to any real conclusions. So sadly, I must profess complete ignorance to this particular subject.”

That was helpful.

Lord Marwood sighed and drew closer. Leaning toward her, he fumbled awkwardly with her hand, gathering it with his long fingers. Tired blue eyes searched her face. “I sense you’re worried about your obligations toward Bradford. You needn’t be. The man has always been wildly enamored with you. Always.”

“He has?”

He nodded. “Before he got himself into whatever stupid mess he did, he actually tried calling on you several times here at the house. I repeatedly turned him away knowing his intentions weren’t in the least bit civil.”

“He … called on me?” she asked softly. “Why did you never tell me about this?”

He grunted. “Smitten as you already were with the man? I think not. He wasn’t prepared to offer matrimony at the time, but I am pleased to know that has all changed and here we are, well past any worry. I have known the man long enough to say he will treat you very well. He may be misguided at times, and randy, but that heart of his beats true. Be patient with him and guide him and I promise all will be well.”

Justine smiled and squeezed his warm hand. “You are right. I suppose I’m a bit nervous, is all. I’ve always been quite the outcast in London, and now that I am about to become a duchess, and observed closely by all, I worry I’ll only end up disappointing you and everyone else.”

“You could never disappoint me, Justine. It is I who have disappointed you.” He withdrew his hand from hers and looked away, drawing his gray brows together. “There are many things I cannot change. Aside from the mess I created foolishly thinking I lived in a free society, you should have been allowed a proper upbringing here in London. Like the rest of the girls. I failed you in that way, and can only apologize.”

Justine’s throat clenched. “I’ll not have you regretting the wonderful and amazing life you have given me. Africa will always be home to me. Always. ‘Tis a glorious place of endless beauty London could never rival. I know without any doubt I’ll be toting Bradford and my own children there from time to time to escape the London fog, smog and coal smoke.”

She nodded at the very thought, then paused and teasingly emphasized with a lopsided grin, “Actually, I’ll have no choice in the matter but to take my children to Africa. By then, I know their grandparents will be permanently living in Cape Town.”

He looked away. “My days in Africa are over.”

Her stomach squeezed at the thought. “Why would you say something like that? You and I both know where you belong. And it isn’t here amongst all these snobs who don’t appreciate the countless years of dedication you’ve given to your observations.”

He sighed and eyed her. “Even if I had the means to return, it wouldn’t be the same without you. You, my girl, have chronicled some of my best works and kept me company whenever your mother suffered from a headache. Which was quite often.”

Justine bit back a smile, knowing her mother always feigned headaches whenever she was trying to avoid something. She reached out and gently nudged his forearm. “Perhaps I can convince Bradford to take us all to Cape Town for holiday? Wouldn’t that be lovely?”

“Now, now. We mustn’t financially burden the duke any more than we already have. Even the deepest of wells can run dry.”

Justine fingered both books beside her. “It appears I have some studying to do before I go to bed.”

Lord Marwood grinned. “That you do. Good night.” He patted his book, then hastily leaned in and kissed her cheek. “You have always brought pride to my name, and as duchess, I know you will continue to do so.” He straightened, nodded, then strode across the room, quietly closing the door behind him.

Justine sighed and prayed her father was right. For the Marwood name had already endured more than enough scandal.

Twelve hours later

THE SOFT FLOATING FRAGRANCE of fresh flowers mingled with the heady scent of melted beeswax. It tinged the sultry air of the quiet church and every breath Justine took as she walked the length of the aisle toward Bradford.

Every wooden pew and marble pillar she passed had been meticulously decorated with boughs of white blossoms, pink roses, and forget-me-nots. The bright morning sun sparkled through the rows of stained-glass windows high above, highlighting portions of the marble altar with a rainbow of muted colors. And there, at the altar, past all the vacant pews, stood Bradford.