Page 72 of Secrets of the Marriage Bed
Really. They were nephews of a duke. As head of the family, Alistair should be making sure they had a good education. If the father didn’t want to send his boys away, they should at least have a proper tutor. The reason why Alistair was not helping seemed obvious. Male pride. On both sides. But why?
Outside, the sunshine dazzled her for a moment. ‘Would you like to go away to school?’
‘And leave Papa and Danny?’ Although he tried to hide it there was a touch of longing in his voice. ‘Papa would be sad. More sad.’
Children understood a great deal more than adults gave them credit for.
He squinted. ‘Papa!’ He waved.
Two tall men strode across the courtyard. Alistair was taller and broader than his brother, but not by much. They were both handsome men, in their prime, one fair, one dark, and as unalike as brothers could be, but only the sight of Alistair made her heart give that funny little hop.
Strangely, Jeffrey was more like his uncle than his father.
A groom emerged from the stable with their visitors’ horses in hand.
The farewells were awkward with Alistair barely unbending enough to offer a stiff bow.
Side by side she and Alistair watched them trot down the drive. ‘Is everything all right?’ she asked, since none of the tension she’d felt in him when his brother arrived had dissipated.
‘He was concerned for my health.’ Ice coated Alistair’s voice.
Why would that not please him? She sensed there was more to it, but clearly he did not want to speak of it. ‘A brotherly concern, then...’ She hesitated.
‘Hardly.’
‘What on earth happened between you and your family?’
‘It is not something I wish to discuss.’
He was shutting her out, the way he always did. ‘We are married, Alistair, like it or not. You need to tell me—’
‘I do notneedto tell you anything. If you will excuse me, I have an appointment with my steward.’
He strode off in the direction of the estate office.
A feeling of loss welled up in her chest. What on earth had she said now?
The pain in her chest intensified as she walked back to a house where she felt like a guest. It wasn’t good enough. She deserved more. If not love, then at least respect and affection. And she wasn’t talking about what they got up to in the bedroom. She was, after all, for better or for worse, his Duchess.
If only she didn’t suspect it was for worse. Perhaps the news of her barrenness having sunk in, he was after all regretting his choice.
* * *
‘We generally meet here at Parsings,’ Ellie said, emerging from her carriage to join Julia waiting in the lane where her own coach had dropped her a scant two minutes before. ‘Poor Lady Wiltshire and her rheumatism.’ She glanced up at a sky full of threatening clouds. ‘That is not going to help.’
They turned and walked arm in arm up the front path. ‘Thank you for inviting me,’ Julia replied. ‘I have been looking forward to this all week.’
Looking forward to getting away from Sackfield and Alistair. Not that she’d seen much of him since he’d recovered from his accident. He’d been preoccupied, busy with his business affairs in Lewis’s absence.
The butler admitted them and took them straight through the house to the conservatory, where three other ladies were already gathered. Ellie performed the introductions to Mrs Retson, the Vicar’s wife, a pleasantly plump middle-aged woman; Lady Finney, the Squire’s wife, with iron-grey hair and a gimlet eye; and Lady Wiltshire, a fashionable lady in her fifth decade and clearly a widow of means.
‘That is everyone,’ Lady Wiltshire said. ‘Please, ladies, take a seat, let me pour you some tea.’
The butler bowed himself out.
‘Have you thought any more of my suggestion for an assembly?’ Ellie said over the rim of her cup.
‘I think it is a brilliant idea,’ Mrs Retson said, her eyes bright. ‘We haven’t held an assembly since before the war. We are bound to draw quite a crowd with so many of our neighbours here for the summer. Everyone has been bemoaning the lack of a bell at St Agnes’s for three years, I am sure they will be supportive.’
