Page 37 of A Bride for the Sinful Duke

“To the townhouse,” Hector ordered curtly, eager to get away.

Away from the haunting memories. Away from his burdensome responsibilities. Away from Juliet.

The townhouse was sufficiently far away from Islington Hall which made an ideal retreat. It usually afforded him a sense of independence, privacy from society and a reprieve from the responsibilities of his estate. Now, it had also become the perfect hideaway from his wife’s sensuous gaze.

As the carriage began to move, he tried to calm himself and focus on anything other than the storm that was raging within him. However, his thoughts had a mind of their own and were intent on reliving every feeling he possessed for Juliet.

He loathed how bewildered his encounters with Juliet always left him. He could not decide whether he admired or despised her ability to stand her ground. He was greatly discomfited by how exposed he felt when he was near her, much like the youth he had been all those years ago.

But no matter how hard he tried, her words followed him despite the growing distance and refused to be silenced. Without meaning to do so, she had accused him of behaving like his monstrous father.

Perhaps it is time that you reconsidered what it means to be a husband.

His father had never tried to be more than a duke. His responsibilities had always come first, were more important than his family, and he had failed innumerable times to be a good husband.

The worst part was that Juliet was right. He had tried to control and mold her into the perfect duchess, just as his father had tried to control his mother. But Juliet was not his mother, and he was not his father. At least, he hoped he wasn’t.

“She is managing it all quite well. I am the one who needs repair,” he realized slowly.

The thought unsettled him more than he cared to admit. He had always prided himself on being different and better than the man who had raised him. With Juliet’s words ringing in his ears, he wondered if that was still the case.

His arrival at Renton House provided him with a much-needed break from the chaos in his mind. He was unsure how long he would stay, but he was intent on getting the rest he needed while he was there.

“Your Grace,” said the butler as he hurried forward, “we were not expecting you.”

“Is my room clean, John?”

“Always, Your Grace,” replied the butler with a slight bow. “Shall I fetch you a drink?”

“No. Don’t bother,” Hector found himself saying. “I will not be spending the night.”

He did not know when he had arrived at that decision, but that had now become his plan.

As he entered the townhouse, the familiar smell of wood and leather greeted him, and he felt the calmness he had been craving descend upon him like a balm upon his mind and soul.

He went straight to his study and poured himself a glass of brandy. He swirled the amber liquid in the glass while he stared at it and contemplated his next course of action.

He had married Juliet solely for the purpose of fulfilling his promise to Lydia, but she had quickly become more than a responsibility. She had developed into a force to be reckonedwith, a woman who refused to be silenced or controlled, and that terrified him because it meant he could no longer hide behind his Duke’s facade.

Hector took a sip of the brandy, the warmth of the alcohol spreading through him, but it did little to ease the tension in his chest. He didn’t want to turn out like his father.

History must not be allowed to repeat itself, but if I do not come up with a solution to meet Juliet halfway, that is exactly what will happen

He stared into the flames that flickered and danced in the hearth and considered the possibility of changing his ways for the first time.

“Your Grace,” the butler announced with a gentle knock on the door, “you have company.”

Hector, lost in his thoughts, barely registered the words. “Who?”

“The Marquess of Elwike, Your Grace.”

“Marcus?” Hector’s brow furrowed in mild surprise before he nodded. “Let him in.”

A few seconds later, Marcus strolled into the room with his usual air of nonchalance. Hector watched as his friend shrugged off his coat and made a beeline for the bottle of brandy on the side table.

“How did you know I was here?” Hector asked.

“A little bird told me,” Marcus replied with a sly grin as he poured himself a generous amount of brandy.

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