Page 35 of A Bride for the Icy Duke
“I rather over-indulged yesterday,” he confessed wryly.
“And to think you chose that over dinner with our friends,” she said teasingly.
That had not been his intention, but the cravings had almost overcome him.
“Sometimes,” he whispered, more to himself than to her, “we don’t always make sensible choices when it comes to this.”
Lydia stood in her bedchamber, listening to the sounds of the duke preparing himself for the day. His low murmuring tones, the occasional louder comment. Despite his perhaps rather rockier relationship with the other members of staff, he got on well with his valet. No wonder—the man had followed him to London. No doubt he had seen everything Lydia hadn’t.
For a second, a twist of envy hit her, and she pressed a hand against her stomach.
She had gone to sleep with him.
That had not precisely been her plan. And what a way to sleep with one’s husband for the first time! She had awoken uncomfortably with the duke standing by the window and watching her with an unreadable expression.
Heavens. She pressed her hands to her flaming cheeks. Why did she feel so odd about it all? Sneaking into his rooms during the night when he was sleeping had been on her list. And yes, initially she had dismissed it, but it tied in well with her plan of seduction.
Thismorning had not.
After the conversation with her friends, she had thought she knew precisely what to do to seduce him.
But not only had he probably been reminded of all the reasons he did not want to remain married to her, she hadn’t so much as glanced at his breeches.
How was she supposed to know what worked to seduce him when she had no evidence to back up her assumptions?
Still, she had a reprieve. Another day in which to change his mind, even though rain now swept down, banishing the snow. Not excellent weather for traveling, to be sure, but doable, if he had chosen to do so.
Perhaps he was coming around after all.
No, it was too early to hope. But—
“You look happy, ma’am,” Rosie chirped, entering the room. She had a knowing look on her face. “And you didn’t ring for me last night.”
“Oh.” Lydia’s cheeks had already been flushed, but now they burned still brighter. “Yes, well. I’m afraid I got distracted.”
“Distracted, hmm?” Rosie didn’t wink—that would have been far too presumptuous for a lady’s maid—but she did hum as she poured some hot water for Lydia to wash in. “You know,” shesaid casually as she helped Lydia out of her dress, “everyone here hopes you will stay.”
Lydia averted her gaze from the steaming mirror. “I’m afraid I can’t be the one to decide that.”
“No,” Rosie said slowly. “Of course not, ma’am.”
“Do you disagree?”
“I wouldn’t say that precisely, ma’am.”
“Then what would you say?”
Rosie stepped back, eyes downcast. “Perhaps you cannot dictate how things ought to be, but as the duke’s wife, you may have somesmallinfluence.”
Lydia sank onto the bed in the previous day’s chemise, her shoulders hunching. Yet another person telling her that she could have everything she wanted if she only convinced the duke to give it to her. Through seduction, through influence.
“I will try,” she breathed, though it was more to herself than Rosie. “Even if it kills me, I will try.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Alexander ignored the pounding in his head as he received Samuel Godwin and Eliza Parsons in the breakfast room. Lydia sat opposite him, perfectly composed, though she stole small glances every now and then.
He dared not look at her. If he did, his body might remember how it felt to wake in her proximity. How low her gown had dipped, and what tantalizing flesh it had revealed. His body might recall how desperately it had imagined her in his arms—how she might look divested of her clothing, her soft breasts in his hands.
