Page 61 of Married to the Forbidden Duke
What neither of them was expecting was for their connection to be sovivid. And he would not have her denying herself purely for the sake of spurning him.
Hewantedher to live. Find happiness, if possible. And for the first time, he felt as though he might be able to be the person who could provide that.
She hadaskedhim to spend time with her.
He found her in the hallway, her stick grasped loosely in one hand, and he brought her free hand to his lips.
“Hyde Park?” he asked, kissing her fingers and watching heat flare in her eyes. Oh yes, he would be making use of that open passageway between their rooms tonight.
“You are not busy?” she furrowed her brows.
“Not too busy to spend time with my wife.” He gestured at the door and noted with satisfaction as they walked that she barelyused the cane. Soon, he judged, she wouldn’t have to use it much, perhaps not at all for shorter journeys.
“What brought this on?” he asked as they approached her mare, reins held by a stableboy. Frederick put his hands on Alice’s waist and lifted her up onto the saddle. For a second, her breath caught, and he was filled with images of when he had done this to her in bed. Holding her by the waist, lifting her off him so he could spill somewhere else.
Her eyes met his, and he knew she was thinking of the same moment.
Why they had to go for a ride when he would much rather be having a very different sort of ride, he would never know.
Adjusting himself as subtly as he could, he swung himself onto his large gelding, and they set off. A groom followed at a discreet distance, and for the first few moments, they rode in silence. When they finally reached the gates to Hyde Park, he glanced across at his wife.
“You never answered my question.”
She inclined her head to a new acquaintance. He wondered what it must be like for her to come back to London after so many years away.
“I thought if we were to… come together, we might learn something more about one another.” She urged her mare into a trot, and Frederick kept pace with her.
“You wish to know something about me?”
“Who is this man I married?” She peeked at him through long lashes. “All I know about you is what you did to me. And a little of what followed.”
Precious little, if she had ever thought him uncaring of the damage he had caused.
“I see. Do you have anything in mind that you would like to know?”
“What do you enjoy? You seemed to like the opera when we went.” She looked at her hands. “Although I suspect that was largely so you could display me to the world.”
“I dislike the rumors abounding around me and us,” he nodded, choosing his words carefully. “And I dislike having my private feelings openly discussed by people who only know some part of the truth. My reputation meant a great deal to my father. I would like to uphold the family name, the honor that lies behind my title.”
He felt rather than saw her glance. “Your father?”
“He died several years ago. I know a little of loss, although I know it cannot compare.”
She was silent for such a long time, he wondered if he had erred. The subject of parents had to be a sensitive one, and he didn’t want to say anything that would bring her distress.
“I hadn’t considered the fact that you must have lost your father, too,” she murmured eventually. “I knew, logically, you must have done in order to have come into your title—and I followed that event when it happened, but I did so out of anger. I was furious that the death of your father meant you inherited a Dukedom. I didn’t think about what it meant for you.” She hung her head. “That shames me.”
“Don’t be ashamed. You despised me. It is understandable.”
“We humans are more complex than we would like to give each other credit for, I think.”
“I think so, too.” He sorted through his emotions. Every time he thought about his father, he felt another wave of shame and guilt. “The death of my father was a difficult time. He knew, of course, about the accident, and he was…angrydoesn’t give it justice. I thought he would cast me off entirely. If he had another son, I think he would have done. He would have thrown me to the authorities and sent me to the colonies.”
He gave a hollow laugh. “But the magistrate declared it an accident, and he eventually decided against disowning me. At the time, I thought it meant that he had forgiven me.”
“He didn’t?” Alice’s voice was a whisper.
“Not until the day he died. My mother died when I was a boy—he was the only family I had left, and I had to endure his derision even on his deathbed. If he could have chosen any other man to take on the mantle of his title, I know he would have done. I never had the chance to prove to him that I changed. And so I must live with that.”
