Page 71 of Tamed By her Duke

“I am a married woman,” she pointed out. Now it was her turn to use reasonableness as a sword. “I don’t need a chaperone.”

“I’m nae going as yourchaperone,” he said as if disgusted by the very idea. “I’m going as yourhusband. And because there’s someone out there who may come to wish ye harm, once realizes we’re askin’ questions. I cannae very well protect ye if I’m not with ye, now can I?”

He said this with so much smugness—the air of a man who was right, knew he was right, and planned to continue toberight—that it took Grace a moment to realize hownicethe sentiment was.

He wanted toprotecther. Because he was herhusband.

Grace tried not to confuse duty with affection. Caleb was an honorable man; it stood to reason that he’d feel himself duty-bound to protect her from insult or harm. He was also, however, a man who had been very clear about what he did and did not want from their marriage. If he no longer outright avoided or insulted her as he’d done early in their marriage… Well, they understood one another better now. And the townhouse was much smaller than Montgomery Estate. Harder to hide in.

Even so, she could not help but be the teensiest, tiniest bit flattered.

“Very well,” she said, as if making a great concession. “We shall attend the garden party together.”

Caleb mumbled something that sounded a great deal likedamn right we will, and which Grace, a lady, chose to ignore.

Several hours later, as she and her husband entered the garden party only to seefourseparate conversations come grinding to a halt so their participants could gape at the duke and duchess, Grace was regretting her earlier choice not to kick up more of a fuss.

She struggled against the desire to shrink back against her husband’s body as the stares rapidly gave way to eager whispers. Blast it all, the gossip was already flying, wasn’t it?

I hate stupid London, she thought, then blinked at herself for even having the thought. She didn’t…hate London. She wasfromLondon. And she’d been disappointed to find herself packed off to the north like an unwieldy parcel.

It was just that the city seemed to verynoisyafter the weeks at Montgomery Estate. And everyone was so obsessed with gossip. There had been gossip in the village, too, of course, but it had been less insidious. Before he’d told them about the mill, after all, Mr. Creedy had lovingly complained about his daughter’s husband, only to have the man himself, the tavernkeeper, come out, affectionately cuff the older man on the shoulder, and say, “Aye, but I give ye free drinks, so mayhap ye ought to speak a bit nicer about me, eh? When talking to the grand folks?”

“Not on yer life,” Mr. Creedy had replied, grinning. The tavernkeeper had refilled his drink anyway.

Here, however, Grace knew that very little of what was currently being whispered would be said to her face—and what people did say would be shrouded in innuendo. She’d only get the full story tomorrow in the gossip pages.

She glanced up at her husband, wondering if this was why he so reviled the city and fearing that he regretted accompanying her on this search for answers.

Caleb’s face, however, was impassive, almost bored. It was only when he looked back down at her that the look cracked slightly, became a little softer.

“Into the breach, aye, then, lass?” he teased.

She felt her shoulders relax. “Perhaps we’ll aim for a few fewer casualties than at Agincourt, do you think?”

He shrugged. “Let’s see how it goes before making any hasty decisions.”

It was thus that Lady Grace Gulliver, the Duchess of Montgomery, wore a fond smile as she attended her first social event with her husband at her side. Let the matrons gossip aboutthat.

“Lady Grace! Lady Grace!”

Grace pivoted at the sound of her name to see a dark-headed little cannonball headed in her direction, followed by a matching dark head and a bespectacled man.

Amanda Rutley stopped before she bodily collided with Grace, but only just, and only because Caleb, with his soldier’s reflexes, jerked his wife back a step before she could be bowled over.

The woman approaching behind Amanda was her twin sister, Rose, whose name was now, if Grace recalled correctly, Mrs. Cartwright. That would make the gentleman nervously but diligently holding on to her arm Mr. Cartwright, Grace supposed.

“Watch where ye’re going, miss,” Caleb scolded Amanda, who was now bouncing happily on her toes. “Ye nearly injured my duchess here.”

Grace tried to give him a quelling look, even as her traitor’s heart wanted to flutter overmy duchess.

“These are Emily’s sisters,” she told him.

Caleb did not look at all impressed.

“She nearly knocked ye down,” he returned.

Grace rolled her eyes.

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