Page 61 of Wedded to the Ruthless Duke

Celia had been most helpful that afternoon. They had taken one of Grace’s old dresses, and like with the wedding gown, they transformed it into something new.

“I have no intention of changing,” Grace said tartly, wondering if Celia had been wrong about the dress.

Celia’s words from that afternoon still rang in her mind.

“He could not possibly ignore you in a gown like this.”

“Changing? Why would you change?” Philip’s hand suddenly caught her elbow.

She swung back around to face him, stunned at the words.

“I beg your pardon?”

“Do you have more gowns like this?” he asked, his eyes no longer on her face but on her cleavage.

“I intend to,” she whispered. The way he was looking at her, drinking in the sight of her, made her feel more confident. Her stomach was no longer knotted tight but swirling excitedly.

“Good,” he said, his voice husky and deep. “Let’s go.” He released her and strode out of the house.

The sudden loss of touch left her heady. She raced after him, eagerly climbing down the front stoop and toward the carriage. The footman offered his hand to help her into the carriage, but Philip’s hand appeared in front of her, and Grace took that instead, climbing into the carriage.

He sat beside her as the carriage set off, jolting them from side to side. With the movement, their shoulders just brushed together.

It was a great distance from the touches they had shared the night before though Grace still trembled at that touch. She wanted more of it.

“So, how was your day?” she asked, turning to face him on the bench.

He frowned, but he didn’t look at her. Instead, he pulled out the pocket watch and checked the time. Her lips pursed together when she realized he was fussing silently about them potentially being all of five minutes late to the assembly.

“Where have you been all day?” she asked when he still didn’t say anything.

He looked at her, eyes narrowed, clearly startled at her questions.

“Your frequent silence is becoming something of a pain, Philip. Tell me, do you intend on not talking to me ever again? Just so I know and can prepare myself for living with a sullen mute.” Her sharp words actually made the side of his lips lift a little in humor. She raised her eyebrows, challenging him to say something.

“I will be no mute, but we have our rules, Grace, remember?” He eyed her warily.

Grace felt as if the carriage floor had opened up and swallowed her whole. With this one phrase, he was putting distance between them.

“We’re only spending this one month together. What would be the point in getting to know one another more than we already do?”

Grace blinked. With one question, he had quite expertly put up not just distance but a great wall. It was as if the Philip before her was not her husband anymore, not the man who had practically ravaged her the night before on the bed. No, he was Eleanor’s cold, distant, and proper brother again.

“How about for common courtesy’s sake?” she said smartly. “You could at least exchange pleasantries.”

“Very well, I had a good day. Did you?”

Seeing he wasn’t going to tell her anything about where he had been or what he had done, she turned away on the carriage bench.

Tabitha’s words entered her mind, and she considered that maybe her cousin was right. It was perfectly possible that Philip did indeed have a lover, someone he already knew before they married. He would simply be a man of discretion in any affair he had.

“It was fine,” she said woodenly. “I introduced myself to your staff as you were not there to do it for me. I found my own chamber, too.”

“Good.”

“I changed it.”

“What?” He jerked his head toward her.

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