Page 26 of The Duke and the Temporary Bride

Just three days ago, Selina would have rejoiced at the concept. She had not wanted this marriage any more than he did, and knowing that soon she might never have to see her husband again should have had her on the table, singing and dancing with joy.

But that was three days ago, and a lot has changed since then…

Assuming she’d had no other choice, Selina had set herself the task of making this marriage work. Her husband might have been a harsh, beast of a man, with a temper the likes of which she had never known, but surely they could have made it work? Surely, if they had at leasttried,something might have come out of this arrangement?

Ha! A laughable concept now. Benedict had made his thoughts and feelings clear, and Selina was not the type to go begging. Certainly not tohim.

“So, tell me,” she began pleasantly. “The day is a glorious one and still quite young. What would you suggest, Harris? A horse ride? A walk through the forest? Perhaps there is a stream nearby in which I could go for a swim?”

Two months. That was how long Selina needed to occupy herself. Two months and she could turn her back on this marriage as if it had never happened.

As for her husband? As to that kiss? With how she was feeling, she did not give a damn for either! In a home this large, if she was lucky, she might never lay eyes on him again.

Chapter Nine

“Your Grace?” A soft knock sounded at the door before Mr. Harris poked his head into the study. “A moment of your time, if it is not a disturbance?”

“Ah, Harris.” Benedict sighed and put down his quill, glad for the distraction. “Not at all. Please, come in.”

Benedict had been at it all morning, locked away in his study, forcing himself to write so that he might stay busy enough that his mind would not wander. What was more, so that he might not search for an excuse to leave his study, which would inevitably see him cross paths with his wife.

“Thank you.” Mr. Harris closed the door softly behind him and made his way toward the desk. “How are you this morning?” he asked.

“Busy,” Benedict said as he indicated the parchment laid out before him. “It’s my darn brother—you know, I still have not heard from him since he vanished. It is not the first time he has disappeared like this, of course, but given the circumstances…”

Mr. Harris nodded. “I am certain that he has come to no harm.”

“Ha! That is not my concern. My concern is that I need him here, where I can keep an eye on him. That is what I am doing now, writing to everyone who might know of his whereabouts.” Benedict groaned and rubbed his temples. “I swear, sometimes that man was put on this earth just to vex me.”

He was more worried about Edmund than he was letting on. Ever since they were boys, Benedict had felt responsible for his younger brother, having taken up the mantle of Duke at the age of twelve. It was a title he took in stride, while his younger brother was the complete opposite.

What Benedict needed was for Edmund to know what he was doing for him so that Edmund might at the very least lie low until the scandal that was this marriage blew over. While Edmund liked to pretend he cared little for his name and title, that would one day change, and when it did, Benedict did not wish for the stink of this situation to have followed him, making it impossible for him to find a bride.

But that meant Benedict had to find his brother first.

“I need you to send these out for me, once they are written,” Benedict continued. “And, most importantly, to be discreet.”

“Of course, Your Grace.”

Benedict groaned and rubbed his eyes.

“Are you tired, Your Grace?” Mr. Harris asked. “Perhaps this can wait?”

“No, no,” Benedict lied. “I slept rather well, in fact.”

“That is good, Your Grace. I am pleased to hear it.” Mr. Harris licked his lips, casting a nervous glance about the room. “It might interest you to hear that Her Grace also slept soundly.”

“Is that so?”

“At least that was what she told me, Your Grace. However, the bags under her eyes told a different story.” Mr. Harris raised a knowing eyebrow at him. “As do your own.”

Benedict stiffened. Had it been anyone else making such a point, he would have done more than glare at them. But Mr. Harris was more than a simple butler, almost a father, for Benedict had known him his entire life.

Not that this excused the comment.

“Be careful what you say next, Harris. I am in no mood.”

Mr. Harris’ expression turned pleading, almost worried. “I have just left your wife, Your Grace.”

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