Page 74 of A Bride for the Rakish Duke

Lydia allowed herself to be led, but as they exited the sunroom and made their way up the hallway to the staircase, her determination took a knock as she heardhisvoice calling for her.

“Lydia! Lydia, I will not move from this spot! Lydia, if you can hear me, just… come outside or allow me in so that we can speak!” There was a brief pause before he continued, “Kitten, please!”

Joanna steered her closer to the staircase, ushering her up the steps with the urgency of a worried mother. And when Lydia looked back, her foolish heart yearning for the man who belonged to that voice, Joanna said softly, “If he cares for you,dearest girl, he will still be there in the morning. There is nothing that can be said now that will be of any use or any sense. Take your bath, sleep well, and see how you feel when dawn comes.”

But as Lydia continued up the stairs, trying to block out the sound of Will’s voice, she knew that she would feel no different when morning came—she would still want him, she would still be falling in love with him, and he would still have a child that made their future impossible.

Like last night, it could not be undone.

CHAPTER 31

Night had drawn in, and from the shadowed gardens and lawns of Bruxton Hall, an owl hooted and foxes screamed at one another. From the kennels in the distance, restless dogs barked, and William had never empathized with a creature more.

He had known that coming to Bruxton Hall would not be an easy task and that he would be a fool to think he would be allowed inside immediately, but he had hoped that, between dukes, there might be an understanding. Still, he had been dismissed and instructed to wait until Lydia decided whether or not she wished to see him.

If you would just give me five minutes, everything would become clear.

That frustrated him more than anything, for it was a simple explanation. A simple misunderstanding. And he feared that the longer he waited out there, and the longer she had to dwell onwhat she thought had happened, the more difficult it would be for her to believe him.

He had hidden himself away on the cloistered terrace that ran along the front of the manor, though it was a balmy night, and he had his greatcoat to keep him warm if the air grew chilly. Nevertheless, he would have preferred to be wherever Lydia was, holding her close, watching her sleep peacefully in his arms.Thatwas the only place he wanted to be.

He looked up sharply as the front door opened, and a figure slipped out into the darkness.

“Lydia?” he said, hope lodged in his throat like a fishbone.

“Afraid not.” The figure drew closer, stepping through one of the gaps between the pillars. “I thought you might like something to eat. My wife told me not to, but she and I do not always agree.”

William’s shoulder slumped as he realized who it was. “I would insist that I am going to refuse to eat or drink until she comes to me, but I shall leave that extreme for later, should I need it.”

“A wise choice.” Edwin perched on one of the stone benches that lined the terrace and set down a plate and a cup of something that appeared to be steaming.

Rising from his hideaway, William padded over to the bench and sat down. “How is she?” he asked as he gratefully received theplate of food and took a sip from the cup. The hot, fragrant tea was the perfect medicine for his troubles, at least temporarily.

Edwin shrugged. “Joanna has mostly been tending to her. She has bathed and had dinner and is now, I believe, asleep. Or trying to sleep.” He smiled in a friendly manner. “I imagine she is as restless as you.”

“I doubt that can be possible when she has a feather mattress to rest on and I have cold stone,” William replied with a wry laugh.

He concentrated on the food in front of him: a chunk of fresh bread, a wedge of sharp white cheese, apple slices, and a fanned-out array of cold meats. But he could not stomach a bite, though he had not eaten all day, for everything he wanted to say to his wife, everything he feared, everything he dreaded if she shunned him permanently, left him incapable of eating.

He sipped the tea instead, and murmured, “Goodness, I wish this was something stronger.”

“Apologies. I would invite you inside for a snifter of something and somewhere more comfortable to rest yourself,” Edwin admitted, “but my wife would not appreciate the generosity. I prefer not to involve myself in the struggles of other couples, so you will forgive me if I act as a waiter and nothing more.”

William nodded. “Of course.” He swallowed down another mouthful of tea. “Thank you for this. Truthfully, if you were to offer me a guest chamber, I would not take it. I have promised to remain out here until she speaks to me, and I shall not break thatpromise. If this is what I must do to prove that I am sincere in my determination, then I will make this terrace my permanent residence if I have to.”

Edwin chuckled at that. “I doubt you would be so fond of it in the winter.”

“Then let us both hope that my wife does not leave me out here that long.” William pushed around an apple slice, his heart twinging at that sweet wordwife.

He would not give her an annulment. He would not allow anyone else to call her by that most precious of titles. He would not call anyone else by it either. There were a thousand things he wanted to promise her if she would just listen, but making vows was the easy part. Getting her to listen was the hard part.

“I ought to return inside before my absence is noticed,” Edwin said, getting up. “Is there any message you want me to pass to your wife? Anything that might persuade her to come outside?”

William hesitated. Then, with a small smile, he said, “Ask her what Lady Ursula would do.”

“Lady Ursula?” Edwin arched an eyebrow. “I am unfamiliar with such a person. Is she a friend of Lydia’s?”

William wanted to laugh, but he could not muster the mirth. “In a manner of speaking, yes. She has long been a favorite companion of my wife.”

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