Page 44 of A Bride for the Rakish Duke

Will held Lydia’s sharp gaze, tension bristling between his chair at the head of the table and hers in the middle, opposite Anthony. She wished she had insisted on sitting at the other end of the table, so she could glare at her husband without having to turn her head.

Anthony snorted. “She makes a rather excellent point.”

“As for the spinster who laughs at impropriety, I do not know what you are referring to,” Lydia continued, touching the rim of her water glass so one of the servants could fill it. “Nora laughed at no impropriety that I could see.”

The servant walked over and poured from a pewter pitcher, and though his face was blank, Lydia could tell he was enjoying his private box seat to this particular theatrical.

Will reached for his wine glass. “She was highly amused at my wedding to your sister. I rarely forget a face, kitten. I have not forgotten hers.”

“And people are not allowed to laugh when they are nervous?” Lydia retorted, sipping the water to wet her dry throat. “Goodness, evenIlaugh sometimes when I am nervous.”

Will swirled the wine, staring down into his glass. “As I said, I do not like the company you keep.”

“It does not seem to be a matter of not forgetting with you, husband dearest,” Lydia said, ignoring him, “but a matter of holding such… useless grudges. So what if shedidlaugh back then? Have you not gained what you wanted, anyway? Are you now going to tell me who I may and may not spend time with? That is veering somewhat away from the agreement we have if you ask me.”

Will raised his gaze, smiling. “I am not going totellyou to do anything.”

Under the table, under the cascade of her skirts, her thighs tingled with the memory of his grip while heat rushed between them as her sensitive flesh recalled the particular sensation of his talented touch. His voice whispered in her mind, making it hard to breathe for a moment,“You like being led. I know you do, kitten… When I showed you how to waltz, moved you, guided you, urged you, you liked it. You would not have if I had merely told you.”

“My friends are… my friends,” she rasped, fighting to recover her seductress act. “They will remain so, for as I have a flighty husband, I shall need my friends when the desire to flee strikes you again.”

Anthony stuffed his mouth full of bread, presumably so he would not burst out laughing. But the strain was evident on his face.

“Who is to say that I did not venture to London to see if you would follow, kitten? An assessment of your loyalty to me and an experiment in regard to your willpower?” Will replied, smirking as his lips touched the rim of his wine glass.

Lydia swallowed thickly, resisting the urge to graze her teeth across her lower lip as she watched him sip, the action so seductive that she wondered how Anthony could bear to be in the room. Truly, she had never wished to be a wine glass more.

“Because, my feral tomcat, if that were even slightly true, you would not have looked so utterly shocked when I walked into the opera box,” she replied, making her voice as husky as possible.

Will set his glass down, staring at her with a wolf-like look that she could not decipher. Had she enraged him? Amused him? Intrigued him?

“Were your parents a love match, Lydia?” Anthony suddenly jumped in, which did not bode well for Will’s mood. If his brother was intervening, she must have angered him.

She was somewhat grateful for the interruption. “Of a kind, yes. They were friends in childhood who grew apart, as children do. Then, they encountered one another when they were older, and… I suppose they thought that familiarity and friendship were an excellent foundation for a marriage. The love blossomed, and though my father is a rather serious sort of man while my mother is sweet-natured and cheerful, their love has continued to flourish. They are never happier than when they are together, complementing one another as they do. I doubt my father would know how to smile or laugh at all if it were not for my mother.”

She glanced back at Will, who sat back in his chair, watching her intently. “The trouble begins—or continues—I think, when two people are bound together who arenotcomplementary. Two combative individuals will always fight. Two shy individuals might never find the courage to speak. Two humorous personalities might get along rather well but end up trying to outdo one another. Two fiery personalities will constantly clash.”

“But think of the reconciliation,” Will said, brushing a drop of wine from his lips with his thumb. “The passion would be… incendiary.”

Lydia wished she had her fan with her. “But something that burns ferociously cannot burn for long.”

“I would not be so sure of that,” Will replied, smirking.

Determined not to let him fluster her, she met his gaze with a smile. “What ofyourparents? Were they a love match?”

The smirk vanished from Will’s face, all humor clouding over into a stormy temperament. His eyes narrowed ever so slightly, his mouth set in a displeased line, as if he were about to insist on punishing her for her insolence. She had not fully known, until that moment, that she had overstepped an invisible line.

Anthony clapped his hands together, looking as anxious as Lydia felt. “Shall we have the next course?”

“An excellent idea, Anthony,” Will said.

The servants swept in to remove the soup bowls, though Lydia was not even halfway through hers, and as they brought in the next course, she had a feeling that it was about to be a very silent dinner.

“Lydia?”

She turned on the stairwell, craving the solitude and peace of her bedchamber and the books she had brought with her. The last thing she wanted was to be delayed from that necessary comfort.

“Anthony.” Lydia bobbed her head in acknowledgment. “I was just about to retire for the night.”

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