Page 39 of Her Lion of a Duke
He had softened immeasurably since he had met Cecilia. He had been so angry back then, furious at the injustice he faced, and it had become better once he knew someone liked him for who he was.
But that was not the full truth. He was not himself around Cecilia, not with his hot temper and biting attitude. He had never been that way with her, but perhaps his old acquaintances had a point. Perhaps he simply was not showing her that side of him.
She would reject him if he did, he was certain.
When he eventually stumbled into his home, it was far later than was acceptable. The moon hung low in the sky, meaning the sun would soon rise, and he would have to operate on very little sleep, but he did not care. What mattered was that he had avoided his wife.
He hated himself for thinking that, but it was the truth. He could not face her. He did not know how, knowing that he was hiding his true self.
He took the stairs quietly, and when he reached his bedchambers, he fell onto his bed and drifted off in seconds.
He woke up to the sun streaming through his windows and Cecilia in the doorway, eyeing him with concern.
“Where were you?” she asked. “I waited for you.”
“You should not have. I was at White’s. Surely you know that men stay late at their gentlemen’s clubs?”
“Of course, I am not a fool. I thought that you would be home before three o’clock, though.”
He blinked. “You waited that long?”
“Of course. There was already one Duke of Pridefield who—” She broke off.
But he knew what she was going to say.
“I worry,” she sighed. “That is all.”
“Well, you do not need to. I am more than capable of handling matters.”
“I did not suggest otherwise,” she said, pulling away from the door. “Leonard, what has gotten into you?”
“Nothing,” he grumbled. “I have not slept well. That is all.”
“Very well, then.”
She disappeared, and for a moment, he considered following her and apologizing. Instead, he remained in his bed.
He wondered why she felt that she had the right to enter his room, but of course, he knew why. They were married, and thus she had every right.
He rolled onto his side and tried to sleep more, but it was not as easy as it had been mere hours ago. He thought of her again, and how he wanted to tell her the truth about where he had been and what he had been doing, but he couldn't.
It was better for her to assume that he had been indulging in brandy and lost track of time than for her to know that he hadvisions of a dead man and had been speaking to him until the early hours of the morning.
It was for her sake that he did not tell her too much.
CHAPTER 14
The change in Leonard was sudden, and Cecilia did not like it.
She had never known him to be so curt, so cutting. She had even, for a short while when they had first met, tried to elicit a reaction from him, something that made him angry like every other gentleman, but it had not worked. He was simply kind to her and a friend, and that made the change in his demeanor even worse.
“Have I done something wrong?” she asked Mrs. Herrington that afternoon as she fumbled with her embroidery.
“I do not think so. Why do you ask?”
“His Grace has seemed rather out of sorts. He did not come home until this morning.”
“I would not think much of it. He tends to be like this around the anniversary of his brother’s passing.”
