Page 67 of A Bride for the Rakish Duke

Beth nodded. “I know it will. I can feel it in my bones.” She straightened up, her smile unwavering. “Now, we’d best getyou ready for this breakfast His Grace has arranged. Something light, I think, in case you decide to go swimming. It’s a fine day for it, and His Grace loves to swim.”

“He does?” Lydia’s eyes widened.

There are so many things I still do not know about him, but… perhaps now I will have the chance to discover them all.

Her heart swelled at the prospect, and she held that precious card closer, wondering how all of her efforts to sever the marriage had somehow come to this. How her hopes for an annulment had transformed into hope for a happy futurewithhim instead of apart. There was an irony to it, in truth, that she did not mind at all.

“Yes,” she said, her heart full. “Something light. I am tired of all those elaborate gowns.”

Beth laughed. “I don’t blame you, Your Grace.”

Twenty minutes later, Lydia was running along the landing, hitching up her skirts so that she would not trip. She had not stopped smiling, daydreaming about the life she might have now that her husband had decided that he might like being around her, after all. Indeed, the fact that he had arranged a picnic breakfast for them was a promising sign of happier days ahead.

She tore down the stairs and across the entrance hall, skidding to a halt to open the main door. She was about to run out onto the porch and down to the driveway when a sight brought her to a sharp standstill. A curricle was pulling up to the front of the house.

Shielding her eyes from the sun’s glare with her hand, Lydia looked at the two passengers—a driver and a young woman holding something in her arms. She put on a smile and headed down the steps, hoping to divert the visitors as quickly as possible so she could run on to meet her husband by the lake.

“Good morning to you,” she said with a polite wave.

The woman glanced at her, a look of relief flashing across her face. “Good morning to you,” she replied as the curricle came to a halt. “Apologies for the intrusion, but I was hoping I might speak with the Duke.”

She spoke well, her tone clipped in the manner of high society, but Lydia did not recognize her. Nevertheless, the woman had the demeanor of a high-born lady—the wife of a business associate, perhaps?

Lydia hesitated. “Is there anything thatImight help you with? The Duke is otherwise engaged, at the moment.”

“Oh…” The young woman shifted the large bundle in her arms, revealing a baby girl. The child must have been asleep, but the movement stirred her, and her big eyes slowly blinked open.

“No, thank you,” the woman continued. “It is just that… I have brought his daughter, so it is really rather urgent that I see him.”

Lydia stared at the woman, and all of her soaring hopes plummeted to the ground, smashing to pieces along with her heart.

CHAPTER 27

William watched the water lapping the shingle shore, glittering as it caught the morning light. It looked so very inviting, but he had promised himself that he would not swim until after breakfast, not until he had spoken with his wife.

Absently, he plucked a ripe strawberry from a nearby bowl and bit into it, savoring the sweet juice that burst into his mouth. As he chewed contentedly, reclining on the picnic blanket, he drew out his pocket watch to check the time. Lydia should have been there by now, but he supposed that was the risk he had taken by not waking her and telling herwhento meet him.

He was not someone who was prone to nervousness, but the prospect of her arrival tightened like a knot in his chest. A swimmighthave fixed the feeling, but he did not want to be halfway across the lake when she arrived, nor did he want to have to spend the rest of the morning in sodden clothing.

“This was a foolish idea,” he muttered, flicking the green head of the strawberry into the grass.

Why bother with a pleasant breakfast when she likely will not want to hear what I have to say…

He had gone over and over the previous night in his mind, so bewildered by the new feelings of protectiveness and affection that plagued him that he still had not decided what he was going to say to her. But he knew he could not allow things to proceed in a manner that might give her hope, for that would, in turn, givehimhope, and he would never allow himself to trust a woman with his heart. Never.

“I cannot sit here twiddling my thumbs,” he muttered, swallowing the strawberry.

Wiping his hands on the blanket, he got to his feet and, as an afterthought, picked up the bowl of strawberries to take to Lydia. He would bring her to the lake himself, and perhaps, as they walked back to that spot, they could get the difficult conversation out of the way so that it would not ruin the serenity of the breakfast he had planned.

She will understand that distance and nothing more than companionship is the best way,he told himself as he headed back to the manor.

Whether or nothewould be able to endure that sort of relationship was another question entirely, but he liked to think of himself as a gentleman of strong will. Hewouldpersevere, hewouldrestrain himself, hewouldresist the peculiar sensations in his chest so that they would not come to hate one another later.

For the sake of the children they might have, he needed to sacrifice whatever this growing affection was.

“I am sorry, Lydia,” he whispered, pressing on.

Lydia could not take her eyes off the baby girl, who stared up at the hood of the curricle with eyes the same striking shade of gray as Will’s. Such a unique color, utterly unmistakable. The eyes of a wolf.

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