Page 57 of A Bride for the Rakish Duke

Without hesitation, the driver pulled away, turning the carriage around to head back the way it had come.

He did not even say farewell.He did not tell me when he would return.

But, deep down, Lydia suspected she already knew the answer to that. She had tried to beat him at his own game, and though it was not a certain victory for either of them yet,shewas feeling somewhat defeated.

“When you come back,” she promised quietly, “I will not hesitate. I will make my request, andIwill not ask nicely.”

Leaning forward, William held his head in his hands as the carriage swayed to and fro, rattling along the country roads all the way back to London. It would be daylight by the time they reached the Capital, and his exhausted mind was yelling at him to go back to Stonebridge, where he could decide what to do after a good night’s sleep.

But wherevershewas, there was no hope of a good night’s sleep.

“I cannot give you what you want,” he whispered, as if she were still sitting on the squabs opposite. “I cannot give you love, and I cannot give you my loyalty—not in the way you want. A husband who is loyal to his wife is a fool, for she will betray him in the end.”

He heard her voice in his mind.“How many ways must I say it? I do not want a disloyal husband! I do not want to take lovers! It goes against everything I believe in and have always believed in.”

“But you will change. You will be tempted, and you will succumb,” he said softly. “I have already seen it in you. The way you smiled at the Earl of Gorsley as you danced. Smiles can become more, and I will not promise fealty just to have it thrown back in my face.”

Jenny Hen used to tell him stories of the early days of his mother and father’s marriage. How his mother would dote on his father, how besotted she was by him, how she used to write him poetry and attempt to bake his favorite tarts for him. Then, how she had transformed into a distant, cold creature who could barely stand to be in a room with her husband—a husband who had given her everything.

I would not see you become that, Lydia.

But what was the solution if Lydia was determined to be faithful? He could not bear the notion of her being lonely and humiliated either. He had not even considered that she might feel that way, for what he had offered as the terms of their marriage was something that plenty of other women would have relished, that plenty of other womenwouldhave considered to be freedom.

He lay down on the squabs and closed his eyes, for he was too tired to think of anything.

“Don’t you get yourself upset,” Jenny Hen said softly, pushing a freshly made scone in front of Lydia. A pot of jam and a small bowl of clotted cream accompanied it, alongside a steaming cup of tea.

It was the latest supper Lydia had ever had, and though she had no appetite, the scone looked rather delicious.

She shrugged. “It is hard not to be when I have been unceremoniously dumped at this manor while my sister and my friends are likely worrying about me, and my husband has run off to London again.” She inhaled the buttery sweet smell of the scone. “You know, for someone who was so furious with my sister for running away, he has developed something of a fleeing habit himself.”

“It’s not a new habit,” Jenny said, sitting down opposite with her own cup of tea in her hands. “He doesn’t much care for confrontation. Avoids it if he can. Something he and his brother both learned when they were young—when the shouting started, they would make themselves scarce.”

Lydia lifted her gaze. “It was not a happy home, then?”

“Sadly not.” Jenny sighed. “When the pair of them first came home from their wedding, you’d have thought the Dowager had won the greatest prize in all the world. The Duke was cheerierthan I’d ever seen him. Goodness, that was a joyful day. We all thought it’d continue like that. For months, we were careful about entering any room in case we saw something we oughtn’t.

“Things cooled as they tend to do, but the Duke and Duchess were… content. There was warmth between them. After William arrived, though, the cracks began to show.” She took a sip of her tea. “The Duke wasn’t here much, and when he was, the pair of them would argue like cats and dogs. After Anthony came along, the Duke started spending even more time at the townhouse in London, and the Duchess seemed to change overnight.”

Lydia listened with a macabre sort of interest as she spooned some jam and cream onto the scone. Her mind tried to piece together the puzzle, for something must have happened to cause such a transformation. Was it the arrival of children? She had heard that could dampen passion, though she had not seen any evidence of it among her friends and Emma.

She took a delicate bite of the treat. “Changed how?”

Jenny Hen paused. “She started spending an awful lot on new gowns and trinkets and adornments. She would be gone for days on end, sometimes taking her sons, sometimes not. When the Duke found out, he was furious. You’ve never heard arguments like it. But she didn’t care—he tried to stop her now and then, but she knew her way in and out of this manor and escaped every time. So, he stopped trying to stop her, and she continued on as she pleased, and when they were both here together, it was… either unbearably frosty between them or every hallway would be filled with the sound of their raging.”

Sorrow struck Lydia as she swallowed down her mouthful, trying to imagine how awful that must have been to endure for everyone. “Is that where all of the Stonebridge fortune went? On… dresses and suchlike?”

“It’s hard to say,” Jenny replied. “It’s a factor, make no mistake, but I have to wonder if there wasn’t some bribery and blackmail. But she did love her sons. Adored them. Would’ve done anything for them. Still would and still does, but there are things His Grace just can’t forgive.”

Lydia considered pointing out that the things Will could not forgive were the same things he wanted to do and wanted her to do, but she did not. Instead, she experienced a small pang of sadness for Mary and Will, wishing they could find a way to make peace.

She chewed another mouthful thoughtfully. “But why the sudden change in the Dowager? That is what I would like to know. Was there a… lover involved?”

“Oh, I don’t know about any of that. All I know is, gowns started arriving, she started making herself look so beautiful that it could make you cry, and she started living as if she had no husband, or none alive anyway.” Jenny shrugged. “You’d have to ask her, I suppose, though she doesn’t like to speak of her former husband.”

Lydia nodded slowly. “When she returns, I might. My husband said I was not allowed to listen to his mother, but what else am I to do when he keeps disappearing? If I cannot know him fromhis own mouth, then I have no choice but to gather information from someone else. Do you agree?”

“Aye, I do,” Jenny replied with a conspiratorial wink.

---