Chapter 10

Breakfast proved to be an awkward experience. The guests who had stayed at the manor had chosen to take their breakfasts in their chambers, as if they had orchestrated it as a group. That left William at one end of the table and Lydia at the other, with Anthony between them.

"How is the marmalade?" William asked, smiling as he sipped his cup of weak coffee.

Lydia refused to meet his gaze. "Sweeter than I am used to."

"Careful you do not accidentally swallow any of the toast," he said.

Her cheeks flamed immediately, and she set the toast down as if she had lost her appetite.

"What on earth are you talking about?" Anthony interjected, raising an eyebrow. "How can she eat toast and marmalade without eating the toast? Unless, Your Grace, you do not like the toast?"

Lydia took her napkin and fanned herself with it. "I like toast very much. I believe your brother is attempting to make a joke. Truthfully, I do not understand it either. He is not so gifted at humor, is he?"

"Alas, where he received height and handsome looks, I received the talent for humor," Anthony replied, chuckling to himself.

He could not have been oblivious to the tension in the breakfast room, but he seemed determined to put Lydia at ease. Something that William did not feel like echoing, for he rather liked the way her face flushed pink and the swift diversion of her gaze whenever she glanced his way.

Indeed, he could almost see the events of last night playing out in her mind as they had played out in his from the moment she kicked him out of her bedchamber. Such a waste, tossing and turning alone in his bed instead of making her toss and turn and writhe in her own. But no matter, he was more than capable of exercising restraint. It would only build the anticipation.

"Are your sister and friends staying today?" Anthony asked.

Lydia relaxed. "I believe all but Joanna and Nora are remaining. Joanna is hosting a ball next week, you see, and seeing the festivities yesterday has sent her into something of a preparational frenzy. Nora, I think, is going to visit her aunt. She does not much like weddings, and I fear mine has exhausted her enthusiasm, so she is off to Bath to recuperate."

"I confess, I am not keen on weddings either," Anthony said, drawing William's attention.

"You are not?" Lydia asked, surprised.

"You must understand, the last wedding I attended before yours, the bride ran away with the groom's horse and never came back. It was rather traumatic for me," Anthony replied with a grin. "Yesterday, I was standing there, shivering like a wet dog. I even stretched beforehand, so I would be able to chase after the bride if she bolted."

William shot his brother a withering look. The jest was a cheap one, and they both knew it, but Lydia seemed delighted nonetheless. Perhaps because William was the target of the joke.

She chuckled. "I am glad I could save you from hurting a muscle, Lord Anthony."

"As am I," Anthony replied, flashing a wink. "I am a terrible runner. You could have walked, and I would not have caught up to you. And please, you must call me ‘Anthony.' You are family now."

A genuine smile graced Lydia's lips. "Thank you, Anthony."

"Would you like me to show you around after breakfast?" he offered. "I rarely get the opportunity. You have seen the manor—you can understand why." He made a show of gesturing to the walls, as if they were outside. "And here we have the eastern wing. A fine example of a modern English ruin. You can just see where the gables used to be, and over there, a supporting pillar that did not live up to its name."

A burst of laughter brightened Lydia's entire demeanor as she clapped her hands together. "Oh, I simply must have you show me everything! I would be delighted."

"No need," William cut in, drinking what was left in his cup. "I will show you the grounds and the house. I have a couple of hours to spare before I leave for London—I might as well use them to get you accustomed to your new residence."

Lydia's laughter died. "Pardon?"

"Which part did you not hear?" he replied evenly.

"The part where you are leaving me the day after our wedding." Lydia's eyes hardened. "I am certain I must have misheard you."

Anthony slowly pushed back his chair, snatching one last piece of toast and his teacup before creeping toward the door like a thespian in a melodrama. "Now that I think about it, I have some business to attend to. I will be in the study if anyone needs me." He paused on the threshold. "Try not to kill one another. At least give it a year before any bloodshed."

He snuck out of the breakfast room and closed the door behind him. The maids filling up the trays on the serving table also made themselves scarce.

"What is the meaning of this?" Lydia demanded to know.

William poured himself another cupful of coffee and leaned back in his chair. "You named the game, kitten. I am merely playing it my way." He took a sip, hiding a grimace as the coffee burned his tongue. "If I must wait a month, so must you, so I thought it best to remove temptation."

"You are going to London for a month?" Her eyes were two burning coals, her hands balling into fists. "That is quite evidently cheating. How am I to know what you do and do not do if you are in London and I am here?"

He took a more careful sip of his coffee. "You can send a spy if you please, or you can put faith in my desire to win. I will have my own spies here, watching you closely." He could not deny that he was enjoying himself. "If I find out that you have broken my rules or taken a lover into that virgin bed of yours, I will punish you… so completely that you will not be able to breathe, and you will beg me."

"To stop?" she finished for him, her eyes widening.

He smirked. "I did not say that."

"What of our honeymoon?"

He shrugged. "What of it? Your rule has rather dampened my enthusiasm, for one." Getting to his feet, he set down his cup and headed for the door. "Now, what do you say we begin our tour? Time is ticking. London awaits."

He left the room without waiting for her, certain that she would follow if only to continue their quarrel. Of that, he had the utmost faith.

"It is not quite as bad as I thought," Lydia said, walking at William's side with enough of a gap between them that two others could have slotted into place.

Her choice, not his. He had tested her by walking in the middle of the path that bordered the entirety of the manor, but rather than get too close, she had walked along the grass verge. Evidently, she did not know if she could trust herself to be near him again after last night.

William glanced up at the dark stone walls of Stonebridge House. "Anthony likes to exaggerate. Nothing is falling down as of yet. The eastern wing is to be avoided, if possible, due to woodworm in the staircases, but it will not be long before it is restored to its former glory."

The expansive gardens had seen better days, the lawns were patchy in places, a few windows were cracked and had not yet been replaced, and many of the rooms were filled with broken furniture and old furnishings that could not be stored in the leaking attics, but the foundations of the place were still good. It would be a proud manor once again—he could feel it.

"You must think you have won yourself a golden goose, Wolfie," she grumbled. "One swift marriage and all your problems are solved."

Wolfie?

It was not bad, as pet names went, but he would not encourage it. Although, it was certainlybetter than ‘Weasel.'

He laughed in the back of his throat. "That was my initial intention, but then I realized who it was I was proposing marriage to, and my problems—as you call them—doubled overnight."

"And do you often run away from your problems, Wolfie?" she asked with a saccharine sweetness that rankled him.

"I am not running."

"Retreating, then. Semantics." Lydia sniffed. "Either way, you called my rule a game, and you are not playing fairly. If you were asked to play a game of cricket and the other team simply did not attend, one might think of it as cowardice. Too afraid to face the competition properly."

William deliberately stepped closer to her. "You sound awfully intent on getting me to stay." He seized her hand and pulled it through his arm, holding her there. "Is it, perhaps, because you are regretting your rule? Did you like the taste of last night's morsel, and are you intrigued by the full feast?"

She wrenched her arm away, stopping sharply on the gravel path. "And have you forgotten how to listen between last night and this morning? You are cheating."

"I am giving you your freedom. You ought to be leaping with joy," he replied. "While I am gone, do whatever you like as long as you obey my three rules. And if my mother bothers you, you should write to me immediately. She has returned to the Dower House, and the staff knows to turn her away in my absence, but she may yet attempt to be sly."

He checked his pocket watch. "And now, dear wife, it is time for me to leave you to your own devices. There is not much more to be seen, though I am certain you will explore at your leisure anyway."

He turned to go, but then was halted by a cold hand closing around his. She had forgotten her gloves, and the shock of her soft skin against his rough palm sent a jolt all the way up to his shoulder.

"What of Society?" she blurted out haltingly. "If you are seen in London during our honeymoon, what will people say?"

He turned back to face her, surprised at how close she was. "I will not be seen. I shall be at my townhouse."

"Just your townhouse for an entire month?" Lydia snorted. "You expect me to believe that?"

"Very well, I might venture to the gentlemen's club or attend the opera where I can come and go as I please." He smiled. "Once the lights dim, it is easy to slip in and out. I shall be entirely unnoticed, and if anyone should pry, I will say you are at the townhouse, too exhausted to leave the bedchamber."

Color dusted her cheeks, and he waited for her to pull her hand away, appalled or surprised by what he was alluding to. But she did not, staring up at him defiantly.

"And what of… you know… heirs?" she asked, her hand still tight around his. "Do you really plan to wait? Or will I discover, years from now, that you have a veritable horde of illegitimates?"

He swallowed, gazing down at her. It took strength and bravery to grab him like that, to turn him around. It took greater strength to stand not half a pace away from him and to meet his eyes without fear with a question like that on her lips.

That mouth…

One fleeting glance and a fire flared to life in his veins. The same fire that had spurred him on last night to the point where he would have given her a wedding night to remember if she had not hoofed him out. A point he had not intended to reach with her. Not yet. It had been as much of a surprise to him to find that he could barely control himself the second his lips had touched hers… and she had responded.

"You made the rule, Lydia," he reminded her. "If I expect you to follow mine, I must follow yours. That being said, heirs are a consideration for the future. We will fulfill the promises we made to one another. There will be no love, but there should be trust before children are brought into this world. I must know you are worthy of being their mother, for I would hate for my children to grow up to hate you."

Lydia let go of his hand as if he had stung her. "Hate me? I think you are misunderstanding the situation, Will." She tilted her head to one side. "This month is to test your devotion and character. And, already, you are not doing particularly well. If you would abandon me, who is to say you would not abandon our children?"

Because I would rather have my heart torn from my chest than see any child of mine suffer the pain of a lack of love.

He would not say so out loud, not to this stranger who was now his wife, but one day, when she had proven herself, maybe he would.

So, he just smirked and dipped his head, pressing a chaste kiss to her cheek. Drawing back, he whispered, "Enjoy your month, kitten. Count the days because, at the end of it, I will return to claim what is mine."

He made to leave again, but her footsteps followed behind.

"I have no time to send a spy!" she protested. "Even if I did, that is no guarantee of your loyalty. You could easily lose them or forbid them entry into your townhouse. How can I be sure you will keep your word if you are not here?"

He shook his head, pressing on. "You cannot get the thought of the bedchamber out of your head, can you? I suppose it is my fault for putting it in your head in the first place. But do you really think I am leaving just to lie with other women?"

"What else am I to think, considering your reputation?" she barked.

That stopped him, but it did not stop her. She collided with his chest, and his arm slipped around her instinctively, his hand sliding into the silky, strawberry-blonde hair at the back of her neck.

With a wry smile, he tugged gently on her hair, tilting her head up to look at him.

"Oh, my Duchess, my kitten," he whispered, licking his lips, "think on this instead—that I am leaving simply because I cannot keep my hands off you for a whole month."

She panted, her bosom heaving against his chest. "That, husband, is the challenge."

"Maybe so," he murmured, burning with the need to kiss her, "but I will not have you make an oath-breaker out of me."

He let go of her and walked away, frustration coursing through his veins with no hope of satisfying that vehement desire. This time, she did not follow, and he did not dare to look back to find out why.