Page 37 of Caught By the Ruthless Duke
He moved away before either of them could respond, leaving them exchanging knowing glances.
Before Cressida could continue her conversation with Harriet, Theodore materialized at her side with that silent intensity she’d come to recognize. His hand settled on the small of her back with careful possession, the touch sending warmth radiating through the layers of silk and stays.
“We should depart,” he said quietly, his voice pitched low for her ears only.
“Of course, Duke.”
Then, Lady Seymore appeared at her elbow, her expression radiating satisfaction. “My dear Duchess, how lovely you look. That gown suits you admirably.”
“Thank you for your assistance in procuring it, Lady Seymore. Your generosity has been most appreciated.”
“Nonsense. What else is family for, if not helping with hasty wedding preparations?” The older woman’s eyes sparkled with something that might have been mischief. “I do hope you’ll forgive my nephew’s rather abrupt proposal. Romantic gestureshave never been his strong suit. He tends toward the practical in all things.”
That was certainly one way to describe Theodore barging into her parents’ drawing room and announcing their marriage like a business transaction.
Before Cressida could formulate a diplomatic response, her family gathered near the chapel entrance for final farewells. Her mother’s tears had intensified to near-hysterical proportions, accompanied by dramatic pronouncements about her elevation and tragic fate. Her father offered more curt instructions about conducting herself with dignity and not embarrassing the family. Mary clung to her once more, extracting solemn promises of weekly letters and eventual visits.
Lady Norwell held her longest, pressing a kiss to her cheek and whispering fiercely, “Remember, my dear, who you’ve always been. You’ve always survived what others cannot. And you do it with your head held high.”
Then Theodore was guiding her toward the waiting carriage with firm pressure at her back, and Cressida found herself climbing inside before she’d fully processed what was happening.
The door closed with decisive finality. The carriage lurched into motion, wheels crunching over gravel.
And she was alone with her husband.
Chapter Eleven
The carriage lurched forward, wheels crunching over gravel, and Cressida found herself alone with Theodore—her husband—in a confined space that seemed to shrink with each passing moment.
He sat across from her, his dark eyes fixed on the window, one hand resting on the seat in a pose that appeared relaxed but carried a tension she could feel in the air between them. His jaw was set in that familiar hard line she’d come to recognize as his default expression.
The silence pressed against her chest, heavy and suffocating. She should say something. Thank him, perhaps. He’d married her when he could have simply let scandal run its course, let society destroy her reputation while he walked away unscathed.
“Duke.” Her voice sounded smaller than she’d intended. She cleared her throat and tried again. “I wanted to thank you for?—”
“Don’t.” The word was flat. Final.
Cressida blinked. “Excuse me?”
“There’s no need for false gratitude.” Theodore still didn’t look at her. “Whatever arrangement this is, it has been… efficiently secured.” At last, his gaze shifted to her. “Who do you think could have done it?”
“Done what?”
“The scandal sheet,” he said evenly. “The timing. The information. It did not appear out of nothing.”
Cressida stared at him. “I don’t know.”
“That’s the point.” His eyes held hers. “Think.”
Her hands tightened in her lap. “I’ve been out of London for two years. I’ve been in the countryside, barely in contact with anyone beyond my aunt and a handful of local families. I don’t have enemies in society. I don’t even have a presence in society anymore.”
A pause. The carriage rattled softly beneath them.
Theodore watched her for a long moment, as though weighing the truth of her words against something already forming in his mind.
“And yet,” he said, quieter, “someone thought it worth printing.”
“I can’t help you,” she said tightly. “I don’t know.”
