Page 70 of Debating with the Duke (Second Sons of London 2)

Chapter Twenty

Adalyn didn’t knowwhat she was going to do.

She was desperately in love with her husband—though he had never mentioned a word of love to her. She knew he wouldn’t because she wasn’t the woman he had intended to wed. During each day, she tried her best to be the perfect duchess. She managed the household with ease. Ev had taken her to meet many of his tenants. She comported herself as a duchess should when meeting them. Regally. A bit haughty, which wasn’t in her nature in the least, but she emulated the few duchesses she did know in theton, hoping Ev would be pleased that she could be polite and detached in the company of others.

It was difficult, though. She tried to show concern for his tenants and yet keep her distance from them. A few of them mentioned how they had never seen a duchess, which led her to believe that Ev’s mother had never gone out on the estate to talk with any of the farmers or their families. She supposed that was why he had been emphatic in wanting his duchess to take her responsibilities seriously.

Because his mother never had.

He had briefly shared that his parents were a typical couple of theton. A woman who wed and provided an heir and a spare. Two parents who spent little time with their children—and no time at all with one another.

Adalyn didn’t want that.

But she didn’t know how to please her new husband.

In the light of day, they were courteous and formal with one another. At night, though, his visits to her bedchamber unlocked a sensual world of passion and desire. Though she tried her best to behave with decorum, Ev had unleashed something within her.

Something only he could satisfy.

Sometimes, she longed to have him stay after he had made love to her but the expectation had been established. He came. He pushed her to the heights of passion. Then he left. She would remain awake for hours afterward, weeping into her pillow, torn by wanting to be the duchess he expected and knowing she never could. Knowing she loved him desperately and that he had been trapped into marrying her.

Her behavior embarrassed her. She should behave more like a duchess and not a wanton. But Ev’s every caress—his every kiss—seemed to liberate her. Make her want more of him.

Ringing for Bridget, she tamped down her frustration and put on a smile for her maid.

Bridget’s brow creased. “You are looking very tired, Your Grace. Perhaps you might want to go back to bed and try and get some more rest.”

Adalyn glanced into the mirror and saw the dark circles under her eyes. “No, I am fine. His Grace expects me at breakfast so that is where I need to be.”

Bridget snorted. “His Grace is putting that fatigue on your face. If he’s going to keep you up half the night, he shouldn’t expect you up and about so early.”

She felt the heated flush coat her cheeks. “That is none of your business,” she said dismissively.

Her maid’s mouth set in a taut line. No words were exchanged until Adalyn was dressed for the day.

She went downstairs to the beautiful breakfast room, which faced east and got strong morning light. Ev was already present, sipping on coffee. He rose as she entered and frowned as a footman seated her.

“You look exhausted.”

“I have not been sleeping well,” she said and took a sip of the fortifying tea another footman brought to her.

“I am sorry to hear that.” He studied her a moment. “I think you should go back to town.”

“Back to town?” she echoed.

“Yes. You seem to thrive there. I hate that I have taken you away from the society you crave. I believe once back in London, you will feel much better.”

“Where . . . will you be?” she asked, since he had stated she should go back to town.

“I have business to attend to here. I will join you at a later date. You can have Bridget pack your things today and leave first thing tomorrow morning.”

Her throat swelled with emotion. She determined not to cry in front of the staff.

Ev was dismissing her. He was already tired of her. Sending her from his sight. They had only been wed a week—and she was a miserable failure as his duchess.

It took everything she had to swallow a few bites of toast before she excused herself and returned to her room. Rejection filled her and the tears she had held back flowed freely. Adalyn allowed herself to feel sorry for her situation for a few minutes and then she dried her cheeks. She might be wretchedly unhappy, married to a man who didn’t want her, but she couldn’t spend the rest of her life feeling glum. She was the Duchess of Camden. She had duties to perform. She did not want to disappoint her duke.

Today, she had planned to take baskets of food to several of the tenants, ones who had small children and needed a bit of help. She would follow through with that instead of locking herself away in her room and crying pointless tears. She was a duchess. She would use her position for good, as she was meant to do.

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