Page 48 of His Unruly Duchess
For a while, with them, she had been able to be more like the true version of herself. But then they had married and become mothers and stepped into a new era of their lives, and her opportunities to talk of architecture and business and commerce had fallen by the wayside. Not because the Spinsters’ Club would not have listened, but because she had not thought it appropriate or timely to speak of herself.
“Very well,” she said shyly, her heart racing. “I will aid you for an hour or so, and then, after we have exercised our minds, we shall exercise our limbs. All of that dancing last night has made me quite sore.”
“Sore? Did I tread on your feet?” he asked.
She rolled her eyes. “It was not the quality of the dancing, husband of mine, but the quantity. And if we are to do it all againfor at least a few weeks, I must take pains to keep my muscles supple.” She headed for the door. “You ought to do the same, for if we are to make a great show of being in love, I cannot have any other partner but you.”
And you, Max, are making it very difficult towantanother…
A crisp wind swept through the greenery of Hyde Park, teasing the bronzed and yellowed leaves off the trees. They floated down to the grass, gathering into crunchy piles, the sun a hazy gold in a clear blue sky. A perfect autumn day that had brought plenty of the London elite out for a promenade.
“Goodness, the city is beautiful in the autumn,” Caroline sighed, leaning into her husband as they walked the pathways of the grand park. She had one arm through his, her other hand holding his upper arm, behaving like the possessive wives she had witnessed in society.
“It has charm,” Max agreed, smiling down at her. “I like to think of it as the weather’s way of apologizing before it bombards us with snow and sleet and endless icy rain.”
She put on a bold laugh, noting that a large group of ladies and gentlemen were wandering nearby. “Youdostrike me as someone who cannot abide the absolute wonder of snow.”
Max’s smile faded into an expression of confusion, his eyebrow raised. “Why are you laughing like that?”
“Because people are watching,” she replied.
He visibly relaxed. “Ah, I see. How very sly of you—I thought I had either become the most hilarious man in existence, or you had taken temporary leave of your senses.”
“Is that not what love does?” she crooned, enjoying herself.
Pretending to be in love with her husband was not as hard as she had anticipated, allowing her imagination to indulge in a few of the things she had always wanted to experience: Holding his arm like that, gazing longingly at him, sliding her hand into his, picking invisible bits of lint off his lapels and letting her palm rest there for a moment on his broad, muscular chest.
“Pardon?” Max choked, looking alarmed again.
“Play along,” she grumbled, batting him playfully on the arm. “You must stop, darling! My ribs are already aching. I simply cannot laugh anymore!”
He mustered a half smile. “So, your ribs are sore and your feet are sore. I thought you young ladies of society had more stamina. Have you lost the fortitude of your debut Season so soon?”
“It is more taxing to be a wife than a debutante,” she replied, moving to stand in front of him.
The group of fine ladies and well-dressed gentlemen were glancing over, the former snapping out their fans to whisper behind them. It was the sign Caroline had been waiting for. A cue she would not miss.
“You ought to enlist the services of a new valet,” she said, lifting her hands to Max’s cravat.
She teased it free of his waistcoat and unfastened it, easing the silky fabric off his neck. Smiling up at him as if she really did love him with all of her heart, she adjusted the triangular corners of his high collar, her fingertips ‘accidentally’ caressing the warm skin at his throat.
“What are you doing?” Max whispered, wide-eyed.
“Fixing the mistake your valet made,” she whispered back, rising up on tiptoe to slide the cravat back around his neck.
Holding his gaze, she began to fasten the accessory back into place, grateful that she had learned how to tie a cravat. But the longer she stretched the moment out and the longer she stared deeply into his sea blue eyes, the more the park around her disappeared. She was closer to him than she should have been, yet not close enough, almost forgetting that they were in public.
“Itied my cravat,” he told her, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear.
“Then, it is lucky that you have me.” Her breath hitched as his hand stayed where it was, cradling her cheek.
Her fingertips trembled slightly as she finished fastening the cravat and stroked the silk downward to tuck it back into the vee of his waistcoat. Why did he have to look at her like that? How was it possible that he could do more for their performance of love with one glance than she could do with the entire debacle of tying his cravat? And why did her traitorous body feel the need to respond with butterflies in her stomach and a racing heart, her lungs breathless? It hardly seemed fair, increasing her determination to beat him at the game.
“Itislucky that I have you,” he murmured, his thumb brushing the apple of her cheek. He leaned in close, dipping his head to whisper in her ear, “Without you, I would not have a plan prepared for my business endeavors that might make us rival your brother’s wealth. If we are successful, you could have two residences if you wanted. After all, it is only right that you should have a fair portion of the income.”
She could barely concentrate on what he was saying with the tickle of his breath against her neck, and the press of her palms against his chest, feeling the thud of his beating heart. She did not know if it was thumping faster than normal, or if it was her heart that was beating too quickly.
Even being in the same house as you is sometimes too far away…
