Page 43 of A Bride for the Rakish Duke

He reached toward the vase of flowers on the side table and plucked out a stunted, withering white rose. With a rumbling laugh, he got up and slid the rose behind Anthony’s ear before sitting back down, satisfied.

“There,” he said. “Now, you look the part.”

Anthony puffed out his chest and removed the rose from behind his ear. “Loveisreal, and I would rather be naïve than jaded.” He gestured to the door, using the flower as a pointer. “Perhaps, you have frittered your affections away on so many women that you would not know love—or a good woman, even—if it were to smack you in the face.”

“But Lydiadidsmack me in the face, and I feel no love, nor have I seen too much evidence of her being a good woman,” Williampointed out, pleased to have regained the upper hand. “Would a good woman not obey her husband without question?”

Anthony jabbed a finger toward him. “Youshould have stayed at Stonebridge. You should not have been cowardly. And if itwassimply a matter of business, which I no longer believe, you should have brought her with you from the start.”

“She has been useful. I cannot deny that.” William thought of the letters on the silver post tray, waiting to be read. Invitations, most likely. “But troublesome, too.”

“You forget that I know you better than anyone, Will,” Anthony blustered. “You may put on this façade of bravado and nonchalance to those who do not know you and trick them easily, but not me. Youareafraid of her becoming dear to you, for why else would you have run from her?”

William’s nostrils flared, his spine prickling. “I did not run.”

“You did. You fled out of fear that you might begin to care for her, that you might begin to like her so much that you would break her rule,” Anthony pressed. “She is clearly testing your loyalty and your sincerity, and, my dear brother, you are failing.”

Ifhehad smacked William, it would have stung less. “Myloyalty and sincerity do not require testing,” he hissed back. “I am the gentleman, I am the husband, I am the provider, I am the one to offer security and freedom to that girl. I am the one keeping my side of the bargain. I will not deign to be tested by my wife. I willnot be…” He stopped sharply, pouring himself a fresh measure of brandy in order to cool his ire.

“You will not be what?” Anthony prompted.

William sipped. “I will not be dictated to by anyone. If she does not like my conduct, that is her concern. I have made no promises beyond offering security and freedom. She was forewarned. She may ask for nothing more.”

“That is not what you were going to say,” Anthony said, shaking his head. “I pity you, Will. I pity how… how haunted you are. How narrow-minded you are.”

William flashed his brother a dark smile. “Well, take your pity elsewhere. It is not welcome in my afternoon of celebration.”

Anthony got to his feet and walked to the door. William stared at the clock on the mantelpiece and sipped his brandy, believing that to be the end of it. Grateful that it was.

But as Anthony reached the threshold, he turned to look back over his shoulder and said in a soft, quiet voice, “I hope that brandy brings you comfort, for if you keep behaving this way, it will be the only thing that will.” He paused, his voice thickening as he threw his parting bomb. “Then,you will be like Father.”

CHAPTER 17

“How was your promenade?” Will asked, his eyes twinkling in the light cast by the candles on the dining table.

It was early evening, and the summer sky outside might have provided enough light to see by, but for reasons Lydia did not understand, the drapes were drawn, and they were dining as if it were autumn.

She daintily sipped from her soup spoon. “Very pleasant, thank you.”

“You stayed at the tearoom for a long while,” he remarked, dabbing his lips with a napkin, but she would not look at that tempting mouth.

She smiled back, remembering the lessons Mary had taught her. “Did I? I was not aware that you were observing the entire time. Indeed, I had assumed you left after you gave me such a sterntalking-to on the terrace.” She mustered what she hoped was a coquettish laugh, meeting his gaze with amused defiance.

“Pardon me?” Anthony interjected, almost spitting out his mushroom soup. “My brother scolded you?”

Lydia chuckled. “Oh, he tried to.”

“For what reason?” Anthony leaned forward, like a Society lady who was about to hear the juiciest gossip of the Season.

She waved a dismissive hand. “In truth, I have forgotten. You would have to ask your brother what the reason was.” She scooped up another spoonful of soup. “I think he just wanted to speak to me, for I had encountered an old friend, and I suspect my darling husband was bitten by the green-eyed monster.”

Will’s eyes darkened, and he set down his napkin with such slow menace that Lydia began to wonder if it was not particularly wise to rile him up. “I am not fond of the company you keep,” he said drily.

“Oh? What company might that be?” she asked, hoping she did not sound as nervous as she felt.

“A gentleman who has sullied himself by falling for a maid, and a spinster who laughs at impropriety,” Will replied. “Did you not think it strange that the Duke I was conversing with suddenly decided to leave? Lord Portshire is doing himself no favors. His wife will never be welcomed in Society, and he will strugglebecause of his choice. You see, Anthony,thisis the trouble with the illusion of love—it makes otherwise sensible people do utterly stupid things.”

Lydia set her spoon down, folded her arms across her chest, and allowed herself to glare at her husband. “Well, I do not care what aBeasthas to say about Lord Portshire’s situation.Ithink it is wonderful. Truly, I wager that unhappiness would be far less common in marriage if love were placed higher on the list of priorities. Perhaps fewer husbands would be inclined to stray, fewer wives would grow resentful, and fewer children would never know what happy, besotted parents looked like.”

---