Page 72 of Wedded to the Ruthless Duke

Yet Grace was finding this very notion of parting from him a very difficult one.

That morning in the dining room when he had defended her, talking staunchly of how mad he was at the writer of the scandal sheet and that she should be able to wear whatever she liked without consequences, she had been stunned.

She saw what Eleanor had spoken of the night before.

“He especially seems to me to be more demanding when he’s trying to protect people around him.”

Grace wondered if she was now one of those people he was so keen to protect. She found herself moving to sit that bit closer to him, wanting to be near him.

“Here, for you.” He passed her a small box from the picnic basket.

“What’s this?”

“Open it.” He urged with a wave of his hand.

She pulled back the box and found inside was a small book. It was a delicate thing, tiny even, no bigger than the palm of her hand. The leather binding was pressed with flowers and tiny leaves of herbs. The botanical drawings were astounding in their detail.

“I realized something,” he said, not really looking at her as he spoke but tearing up another pork pie. Like with the last, he shared it with her, not keeping anything solely for himself. “I never gave you a wedding gift. Not a proper one. I hope you like it.” He still looked down at the pork pie.

Is he nervous?

She had never seen Philip anything but confident and in control. He cleared his throat, looking very keen to move on fast.

“So, what do you think of the view from your new home?”

“I think it’s beautiful.” She ran her hand over the botanical book, wondering when exactly Philip had learned about her love of plants and her interest in recording them on pages. “The book, Philip. I love the book.”

She smiled at him. Inside, there was a warmth growing toward Philip. It was a shocking and all-encompassing feeling, much greater than she had been prepared for. It was something she found difficult to put into words at all.

“I’m glad,” he said, still not looking at her. “Now, where shall we ride to this afternoon? We need a re-match of our race at some point, and this time, I shall win.”

CHAPTER24

Grace hurried down the stairs. For three days in a row, now, she and Philip had begun their day with a morning ride. She was praying today would be no different. Dressed in her riding habit, she hastened into the dining room only to find that Philip was scarcely aware of her presence.

He seemed uninterested in food for a change. His plate was empty, his coffee cup equally so. In his hand was a thin scrap of paper. Even from this distance, Grace could recognize it for what it was.

“Another?” she said, quite forgetting to say good morning.

Philip jerked his head around in surprise from where he sat at the head of the table. He looked on the verge of hiding it then seemed to think the better of this idea. He laid the page flat on the table in front of him.

Grace walked forward on her toes, nervous about reading what was in the sheet. The last few days, Philip had seemed much more at ease around her, but all semblance of ease was gone now. In its place, there was a sharpness.

She had barely reached the table when he suddenly slammed his fist down onto the table in anger.

All of the crockery clinked and jolted as he leapt to his feet and paced up and down the room, unable to bottle up his anger. He pulled at his hair, making it wilder than she had ever seen it before.

“Philip?” she whispered.

He didn’t answer her. He swiped out at the nearest chair, looking ready to destroy everything in his own house.

She flinched and reached for the scandal sheet, determined to read it fast.

At the top of the page, her name and title were printed in black.

‘The Duchess of Berkley continues to astound us all. It seems just days after making such an exhibition of herself at the Almack’s Assembly Rooms, the Duke’s new wife is determined to embarrass him.

It’s said that she has been outside of the house, not in her new husband’s company but quite alone. Up to her usual tricks, she has been seen falling out of carriages, and according to one trusted source, falling off her horse in such a way that her skirt blew up for all to see. Surely the poor Duke of Berkley must be horrified at the continued embarrassment his wife is causing him!’

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