Page 51 of Defending the Duke (The St. Clairs 4)

“I adore the estate. The tenants are good people. The household staff is superb. I felt we were making progress, getting to know one another. There were a few flies in the ointment,” she admitted. “Nothing too serious. Then I mucked it all up by asking about Anthony’s past.”

“Oh, dear,” Constance murmured.

“Yes. That is what has driven a wedge between us. Mr. Woodward, Linwood’s estate manager, was one of the few employees who knew Anthony as a child. I know something dreadful occurred between Anthony and his father many years ago. I thought if I knew, it would help me understand him better. Anthony came across us while I quizzed Mr. Woodward.”

Laurel shuddered. “He was so angry, Aunt Constance. Not a raging anger but a cold, controlled one. So cold that it frightened me. The husband I was getting to know changed before my eyes. I’ll be frank and tell you that the physical side of marriage has shown we are very well suited. Now, though, I’m not sure if he will ever touch me again. He made it clear that his past was to remain closed behind a locked door which only he has the key to unlock.”

She wiped away the tears that began to fall. “I fear he’s tossed away that key and whatever festers within him will never heal. That was when he said we were returning to London. Anthony has yet to speak to me.”

“Even on the carriage ride back to town?”

“Not a word. I’m not sure what to do. I know the kind, caring man I married is buried somewhere inside him. I don’t know how to apologize, though. I’m afraid to bring up the quarrel between us for fear of making things worse.”

“Then you don’t use words,” the older woman proclaimed. “A kiss is where you start. Show Anthony the passion and tenderness you feel toward him. The wounds you seek to heal are very old ones, Laurel. My boy was horribly scarred by events in his past. Care for him. Love him. In time, he will see he can trust you. Only then will he be able to share what happened to him and allow you to be the balm for his wounds. It’s not my place—or anyone else’s—to share his past with you. It’s for Anthony to do so. When he does, be prepared, for he will be in a world of hurt reliving it as he speaks of it. Until then, do all in your power to care for him and wear him down with love.”

Laurel wiped her eyes. “Thank you. And please, not a word to anyone.”

“Of course not.” Aunt Constance smiled. “Go and write your notes, my dear. I will see you later.”

She returned to her room and quickly penned a brief note to Lady Downley and rang for a maid, asking it to be delivered at once. She took her time composing short letters to Catherine, Rachel, and Leah, letting the three women know she was back in the city and would be at the musicale tonight. At first, she asked for them to attend tea here tomorrow afternoon and then set aside the notes and tried again, recalling that tomorrow afternoon was a garden party hosted by a viscountess who’d had Rachel design a new fountain and gardens for her. Laurel had been disappointed that they would miss the affair but now that she was back in town, she was eager to see Rachel’s work firsthand.

Once more, she summoned a servant and passed the three notes along, which notified her family that she was back in town and asked them to tea the day after tomorrow. Though she had told Retta to pick out a gown for her, Laurel decided to take matters into her own hands. She chose one that Rachel had insisted become part of Laurel’s wardrobe. It showed a little more of her bosom than she felt comfortable revealing—but that was the very reason she wanted to wear it. Hopefully, the dress would capture Anthony’s attention.

Until he removed it from her later tonight.

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