There was no reason for him to be unkind. No reason to treat her badly. No reason to act like a giant arse. Except when he was acting like a giant arse he could forget, if only for a few seconds, what her lips tasted like. And he didn’t have to think about how much he wanted to kiss her again.
Which he did. Kiss her, that is.
More than he cared to admit.
Even in the midst of their fight he’d wanted to kiss her. His arms had ached to draw her against his chest. His mouth had tingled from the memory of what those lovely lips had felt like pressed against his. His fingers had itched to delve into all those soft, silky blonde tresses. So why hadn’t he done it? Why hadn’t he brought her into his arms and kissed her? She was his wife. There would be no gossip. No scandal. No ruination.
But still he hadn’t. Because if he kissed her…if he kissed her he was afraid he’d feel something for her, his little bookish wife he’d never wanted by couldn’t stop thinking about. Something stronger than lust. Stronger than passion. Stronger than anything he’d ever felt for any woman before.
Love.
Scowling, Andrew tipped his chair forward. He still stood behind what he had told Regina that night in the library, and he didn’t believe in love any more now than he had then. Why would he? His parents had gotten on well enough and they’d hardly been the epitome of a loving couple.
Polite.
With the exception of the argument he’d witnessed right before his father’s death, they’d always been unfailingly polite. To each other. To him. To the servants. And if there were times he wished his mother would embrace him, or his father would tell him how proud he was, well – a man (or the young boy he’d been) couldn’t have everything he wanted.
He desired that same cool detachment between himself and Regina because it was what he’d grown up with. It was what he knew. It was what he was accustomed to. It was what he liked. Not all these bloody feelings hammering at him like waves crashing upon a shore, one after the other after the other.
All he needed to do was convince his softhearted wife that it was better if they maintained an emotional barrier between them. Better if they suppressed any urges they might have to fall in love (his lip curled at the thought) and commit themselves to a respectful business partnership. One that was no different than the partnership he shared with his solicitor or his personal valet or the damn baker down the street.
Rising from his chair Andrew poured himself a glass of brandy, but set it aside without taking a sip, his mind elsewhere as he drummed his fingers on top of the mahogany liquor cabinet. He’d go for an evening ride to clear his head, he decided. And in the morning he would sit Regina down and tell her all the reasons why it was best they conducted themselves in a manner befitting of a duke and duchess.
No more fighting.
No more intimate moments.
No more dreaming about the taste of her lips.
When the time came he’d bed her as he should have done on their wedding night, and hope that once was enough to grant him an heir because any more than that…any more than that and he feared what would happen to his objectivity.
Would it be so terrible, an unwanted voice intruded slyly, to let yourself love her? Would it be so awful to make yourself vulnerable? To expose that part of your soul that you’ve never allowed anyone to see? To place your heart in her hands and trust that she’ll be gentle with it?
Andrew gritted his teeth. In short, the answer was a resounding yes. To all of those questions. Grabbing his riding gloves and leather crop, he headed for the barn.
Chapter Six
“Here,” Kitty said the moment Regina stepped into her bedchamber, “have a piece of chocolate.”
Pressing a thin disc of chocolate sprinkled with white sugar into Regina’s hand, she retreated to the bed and perched on the edge, her nightdress lifting to expose a slender ankle as she hugged a leg against her chest. “I take it the conversation did not improve after I left?”
“No.” Regina bit into the dark chocolate. It was bitter with a sweet aftertaste that lingered on her tongue; a welcome treat after an unwelcome exchange of words. “It didn’t. Oh Kitty.” She looked at her friend in despair. “What am I going to do? He wants nothing to do with me. I wish – I wish he hadn’t even married me.”
Kitty arched a dark brow. “Trust me when I say being a duchess is better than being ruined. I saw the way Glenmoore looked at you when he walked into the dining room. He feels something for you, whether he’s willing to admit it or not.”
“He could have fooled me,” said Regina, her voice as bitter as the chocolate.
“Now, now,” Kitty soothed. “It couldn’t have been that bad.”
“He said kissing me in the library was a ‘regrettable error’. It wasn’t bad, it was horrible. He’s horrible.” And she couldn’t believe she had fallen in love with him. Lizzy would be utterly disgusted with her, and for good reason. Two wondrous kisses and she’d allowed her heart to completely run away with her head.
One moment she’d been reading her book, and the next she’d been imagining what it would be like to be the Duchess of Glenmoore. Well, now she knew…and it was worse than she could have ever dreamed. A consequence, she supposed, of all those years spent wishing for a dashing prince to sweep her off her feet. Just like in the fairytales she’d adored as a child and the books filled with brooding romantic heroes she’d swooned over as an adult. Except – as she was learning the hard way – real life wasn’t a fairytale and she wasn’t married to the hero.
A hero wouldn’t abandon his heroine at his country estate for months on end.
A hero wouldn’t make her feel small or insignificant.
And he’d never suggest their marriage was a mistake.
“I just thought it would be different than how it is,” she murmured. “I know I shouldn’t have lied to Lady Emmeline–”
“Lady Emmeline is a hoity-toity bitch.”
“Kitty!” she gasped.
“What?” her friend said innocently. “She is. Everyone knows it. If you hadn’t told her you were engaged – a tiny little fib in the grand scheme of things – she would have gleefully torn your reputation to shreds.”
Guilt prickled at the edges of Regina’s conscience. “I don’t know if I’d call lying about a marriage proposal a tiny little fib. In that regard Andrew has every reason to be upset with me.”
“Why?” Kitty demanded. “He could have refuted your claim, but he didn’t. And unless you haven’t told me the entire truth, you didn’t force him to kiss you. He’s just as responsible for the scandal that would have ensued as you are, except he wouldn’t have been touched by it because he’s a man and men are allowed to do whatever they please.”
“No one forced anyone. The kiss…the kiss was magical,” Regina admitted, and of its own accord her lips curved at the memory. “It’s everything that has come after that’s been completely rotten.”
“That will work itself out. You’ll see.”
Regina plucked at a stray thread on her sleeve. “I wish I had your confidence.”
“It’s like one of those romance novels you’re always carrying around. You want to be at the happily-ever-after part, but perhaps you’re still in the middle bit,” Kitty suggested kindly. “Where the lord and lady want to be together but they still need to overcome some great unforeseen hurdle.”
“Perhaps,” Regina said softly. Then her eyes narrowed in suspicion. “When have you ever read a romance novel?”
Kitty shrugged. “Just now while I was waiting for you to return. It’s not as if I had anything better to do. I wish I’d thought to bring the latest edition of Ladies Quarterly with me. Did you happen to hear what came of Lord Hanover’s illegitimate love child?”
“Ladies Quarterly is filled with gossipy nonsense. I sincerely doubt if Lord Hanover even has a child given that he’s nearly eighty years of age.”
“The article didn’t mention that part.”
“No.” A reluctant smile claimed
Regina’s mouth as she sat at her dressing table and begun to pull the pins from her hair. “It rarely does. What book did you read?” Her dear friend was many things, but a reader wasn’t one of them, and she was curious as to what title had finally managed to snag her attention.
“Proud and Proper. No, that isn’t right.” Kitty’s pursed her lips. “Pomp and Precipice.”
“Pride and Prejudice?”
“Yes, that’s it.”
Regina’s hand stilled at the nape of her neck. “You read the entire book?”
“Well, no,” Kitty confessed. “But I skimmed through.”
“You skimmed through?”
“Just to get to the ending.”
“You read the ending?” Regina said in horror. “Kitty, you can’t do that!”
“How else was I to find out who Elizabeth ended up with?” she said defensively. “Personally I found Mr. Darcy to be a little boorish, but to each their own, I suppose.”
“He’s not boorish. If you’d read the entire book as you should have–”
“Who has time to do that?” Kitty interrupted. “Now tell me what happened between you and the duke after I left.”
With a heavy sigh Regina pulled the last pin from her hair and gave a slight shake of her head that sent the heavy mass of dark blonde curls tumbling down her back. “We discussed hats.”
“Hats?” Kitty blinked in bewilderment. “Why in heaven’s name would you do that?”
“Because you told me to,” Regina reminded her. “Before dinner, when you were giving me a list of appropriate topics.”
“Horses. I said men loved to talk about horses. Honestly.” Kitty threw her hands up in the air. “How you are not a spinster with thirty-seven cats is beyond me.”
“Me as well.” Having told her lady’s maid to take the evening for herself, Regina began to comb out her own hair with long, careful strokes before plaiting it in a thick braid down the middle of her back. “I already told you the gist of it. We had a disagreement, which isn’t a great surprise. If he just wasn’t so infuriatingly stubborn.” She hissed out a breath. “In the library he was amusing, and considerate, and…and passionate.” Her cheeks heated. “Now it’s like he’s a different person entirely. I don’t understand.”
“No one understands men.” Kitty gave a flippant wave of her hand before she slid off the bed and helped Regina out of her dress. “The best we can hope for is to tolerate them, and sometimes even that is asking too much.”
“I don’t want a marriage where I have to tolerate my husband.” She stopped talking as she slid her nightdress over her head, then held still in order for Kitty to close the small row of buttons in the back. “I want a marriage…I want a marriage like Lizzy and Mr. Darcy have. Or least the one the reader is left to presume they have.”
“Really?” Kitty stepped out from behind Regina and wrinkled her nose. “But he’s so–”
“Boorish, yes, so you said.” She still couldn’t believe her friend had read the ending without reading the entire book, but she supposed there were worst sins a person could commit. Although not very many. “Except he’s not really. Oh, he comes across that way in the beginning, but beneath all of his aloofness and condescending demeanor he is really quite kind and generous and in the end he overcomes his pride to become the husband Elizabeth deserves.”
“Hmm. I must have missed all those bits.”
“Yes, well, that’s what happens when you skim.”
“Another piece of chocolate?” Kitty offered, digging into her reticule to procure a piece of the bitter candy wrapped in gold foil. “This one’s a little smooshed, but only because I forget it was in here and I accidentally sat on it in the carriage.”
“I’ll split it with you.” Cracking the small disc in half, Regina gave Kitty a piece and the two women ate their treat in contemplative silence, one thinking of the husband she had but who didn’t want her and the other thinking of the husband she didn’t have but desperately wanted.
Kitty had been given the adjoining chamber to sleep in, but having grown accustomed to sharing a room on more than one occasion they found it only natural to climb into the same bed now. It wasn’t as if Regina had to fear Andrew was suddenly going to walk in and demand his husbandly rights, and Kitty, being the social butterfly that she was, preferred the company.
Leaning up on her elbow Regina blew out of the candle on her side table and shortly after Kitty did the same, plunging the bedchamber into darkness.
“Kitty,” Regina whispered after several minutes had gone by.
“Yes?” her friend answered sleepily.
“Did you mean what you said about this being the middle of our story?”
“Of course.” Reaching over the top of the coverlet, Kitty patted Regina’s hand. “Have you ever heard of a book where the lord and lady don’t live happily-ever-after? What a dreadful ending that would be.”
“Yes, I suppose you’re right. Good night,” she said softly.
“Good night,” Kitty responded with a jaw cracking yawn.
Within minutes loud snores filled the room. By rolling onto her side and pressing a pillow to her ear Regina managed to block out the sound of them, but there was nothing she could do to quiet the voice inside her head. The one that questioned whether Kitty was wrong and this wasn’t the middle of her love story, but the end.
And there was nothing she could do to change it.
Andrew blamed the bloody deer.
He knew it wasn’t his riding skills. He may not have been as an adept equestrian as Wakefield (the man might as well have been born on a damn horse) but he could hold his own. Had held his own for a number of years, as he’d participated in countless hunts across difficult terrain and couldn’t remember the last time he’d been unseated. Which was perhaps why it stung his pride more than it should have (along with other parts of his anatomy, mainly his posterior) that he found himself sitting in the middle of a flat field without even so much as a log to jump over as his horse, a placid chestnut a child would have had no difficulty controlling, trotted merrily back towards the stables.
The fall had happened with such quickness he couldn’t even recall the details. One moment he’d been astride, traveling at a leisurely walk (which, should anyone ask in the future, would be described as a breakneck gallop) with one hand loosely on the reins and the other resting on the pommel of the saddle as he contemplated what he’d said to his wife at dinner and what he wanted to say to her in the morning.
He planned to begin with an apology. For the way he’d acted and the way he’d been acting. Regina didn’t deserve his bitterness, nor should she have had to endure his misplaced anger. He was furious with the situation, not with her, a distinction he would have done well to realize before he lashed out and implied their marriage was a mistake.
With a little give and take on both sides he hoped to reach a mutual understanding. One that would ease the tension between them and set them on a path towards the sort of marriage he’d always wanted. Regina may have been emotional, but she did not strike him as unreasonable. With a little explaining she’d soon see why it would be best if they maintained a formal relationship. Then he’d finally be able to stop craving the taste of her lips and the smell of her perfume and the sound of her laughter.
Boundaries, he told himself as he let his horse stop to nibble a tall stalk of timothy grass before urging him on with a gentle squeeze of his heels. It was all about boundaries. And once he had them where he wanted them his life could go back to normal. His mind could go back to normal. No more fantasizing about green-eyed wallflowers in libraries. No more uncomfortable feelings of yearning. No more feelings, period.
Just the way he preferred it.
Overhead the sun was near to setting, painting the sky a beautiful deep red that Andrew, trapped deep in thought, passed beneath without noticing. Similarly he failed to pay attention to a lone deer as it wandered out of the tree line for an evening feeding. Nor did he give the deer any rega
rd when it stopped short and raised its head, large brown eyes trained inquisitively on the horse and rider slowly making their way through the middle of the field.
He did pay attention, however, when the deer snorted and his horse, startled by the unexpected sound, leapt straight into the air before bolting forward. No doubt fearing a wolf or some other fearsome creature was about to attack – never mind that wolves hadn’t roamed this part of the countryside since King Edward I ordered them hunted to extinction – the chestnut took off like a shot and Andrew, off balance and unprepared, found himself sprawled on his arse in the grass.
The last time something had happened with such unexpected speed he’d gone from being a bachelor to a husband. Then, like now, it was the suddenness he found the most disconcerting. The hard jolt of being somewhere one second and somewhere else completely different the next.
“Buggering hell.” Slamming his fist into the ground, Andrew attempted to rise. But his right leg, which had been quietly throbbing, suddenly gave way beneath him with a bone crunching crack and a searing pain the likes of which he wouldn’t wish upon his worst enemy shot up his calf and into his thigh.
With an anguished cry he fell forward, landing flat on his face while the deer who had startled his horse watched on from the safety of the nearby tree line. A flick of her bushy white tail and she bounded off, leaving Andrew to writhe in agony in the middle of a field two miles from home.
Chapter Seven
“Your Grace? Your Grace, you should come downstairs.”
“What?” Roused from her deep slumber by a light shining in her eyes and the quiet, albeit insistent voice of her lady’s maid, Regina cracked open an eyelid and immediately regretted it. “Oh,” she gasped, flinging an arm up to cover her face as early morning sunlight spilled across the bed. “What’s happened? Why are all the drapes open?” Beside her Kitty released an unladylike squawk and dragged the covers over her head.
“I’m sorry,” Mia said apologetically, twisting her hands together. “I was trying to wake you up gently but, well, you were very asleep.”
The Summer Duke (A Duke for All Seasons Book 3) Page 6
