Page 45 of A Bride for the Rakish Duke

Anthony approached, his knuckles whitening as he gripped the banister. “I will not keep you. I just… wanted to say that you should not be disheartened. As my brother’s wife, you have every right to know about our family, but… it is not something he discusses easily, even with me.”

The rest of dinner had been awkward and almost devoid of all conversation, peppered by the squeak of cutlery on plates and the occasional clink of a glass. Anthony had done his best to steer the conversation to more neutral territory, asking about Lydia’s day with her friends, but with a brooding tempest at the end of the table, it had not been conducive to pleasant chatter.

“Willyoutell me what troubles him so with regard to your mother and father?” Lydia asked.

Anthony hesitated, peering down over the side of the banister to ensure that Will was out of earshot. “I dare not say much, at present, but what I admire in our mother is what Will cannot abide.” He lowered his voice. “Our mother has always done as she pleased. When we were younger, she was forever attending balls, the theater, the opera, and other such gatherings.”

“That is… a bad thing?” Lydia stared at him, waiting for some clarity.

“She used to attend such things alone,” Anthony said in a very pointed fashion. “Whether our father was invited or not, I do not know, but he never accompanied her, and she never waited or asked him to. How she behaves now is somewhat similar to how she behaved then if that helps any?”

Lydia frowned. “You mean… with gentlemen?”

Anthony tilted his head from side to side. “Nothing has ever been confirmed or denied, but Will is certain that our mother was up to all sorts of… um… mischief. He does not trust her. Hates her, in truth. That is why he does not like to speak of her or of her in relation to our father.” He paused. “And that is why he does not want you listening to her. He believes she will corrupt you, I suppose.”

A spark of shock ignited in Lydia’s chest. “He told you of his rules for me?”

“He mentioned them briefly.” Anthony would not meet her eyes, suggesting he also knew about her rule for Will.

Humiliation bloomed in her cheeks, rushing up into her head until she felt somewhat unsteady. “That has been very helpful, Anthony. Thank you.” She pressed a hand to her chest to try and calm her shallow breaths. “If you will excuse me, I really must retire. I am not feeling so well.”

“Can I fetch you anything?” Anthony immediately looked worried and a little bit guilty that he might have caused the sudden affliction.

“No, no, I will be quite all right.” Lydia would have taken the stairs four at a time if she had possessed the stride to do so, hurrying toward the sanctuary of her bedchamber.

She had locked the adjoining door last night, and it would remain that way for as long as she was in London.

Closing the chamber door behind her, she went to the bed and sank down on the edge of it, holding her head in her hands.

If he thinks I will betray him, why bother to marry me at all? Why tell me that I may take a lover if he hates infidelity above all else?

“Indeed, why be cross with your mother at all?” she whispered, finding a sliver of anger amidst her bemusement. “Why would you hate her so much when the only thing she is guilty of is behaving like you?”

CHAPTER 18

That night, William could not sleep yet again. He closed his eyes and willed slumber to come, but it would not. No matter which way he turned in the bed or how he rested his head on the pillow, he heard his blood whooshing in his ears, his body jittering with restless unease.

Less than a week married, and I am already regretting it.

He sat up and stared at the adjoining door between his bedchamber and Lydia’s. A thin band of light glowed along the bottom edge, like a beacon to his curiosity. Had she locked it? If he were to knock, would she open it for him? A taste of her would undoubtedly satisfy him enough to give him a peaceful night’s rest, like drinking a tonic from the apothecary.

The longer he stared, and his eyes adjusted, the more he became certain that she would simply kick him out for a third time… and the more compelled he became to find out.

Throwing back the crisp linen coverlets, he headed for the adjoining door. He was about to try the handle when he remembered his state of undress, for he never liked to sleep wearing anything, especially in the warmer months. It was far too restrictive.

He grabbed his housecoat and threw it on, tying it at the waist.

That done, he knocked.

“I am asleep,” came Lydia’s decidedly alert voice.

He tried the handle, unsurprised to find it locked. “I just want to say goodnight, kitten.”

“Goodnight,” she replied.

“It is bad for a wife and husband to go to sleep with matters unresolved,” he said in a silky voice, forcing back memories of his childhood, when the hallways of Stonebridge were filled with the mighty roars and shrill shrieks of his mother and father.

Why did you have to mention my parents at all?

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