Chapter 11

"So, that is it," Lydia found herself repeating as she watched her husband leave her. For a month. A whole month.

There was a plan in place, you dolt.

She shook her head and turned to wander the rest of the way around the manor, scrambling for an alternative.

In the week prior to her wedding, she had thoroughly researched the details of annulments and had settled on three possible plans: pretending to be insane to get him to void the marriage, getting him to admit that he had coerced her into the union, or being so infuriating toward him that she would eventually convince him to ask for an annulment, allowing him to choose on what grounds—duress, fraud, or whatever he preferred.

Unless…

Possibility flared in her heart once more, for surely his actions could be deemed as abandonment. And abandonment could be framed as fraud if she was clever about it—promises made, promises broken.

She paused at a wooden bench and sat down, gazing up at the grim stone of the manor. The windows winked in the morning light, and peering up, she wondered which bedchamber was hers.

As she did, her mind took her back to her bed and the press of Will's body against hers, the crush of his lips, and that strong hand caressing her thigh. She closed her eyes, letting her imagination and her expansive knowledge of illicit novels fill in the gaps of what might have happened if she had not come to her senses in time. It was a warm morning, but the images exploding in her head made it feel like the height of a summer afternoon.

But even that was a fraud of sorts, she told herself. A coercion. A means of tricking her by saying one thing and doing another. If his objective was to confuse her and tease her just enough to ensure she did not run, then he was succeeding.

Not for long.

She opened her eyes and shook off the heat of her imagination. She would use her lonely month well, and by the time he deigned to return, there would be nothing to claim, for she would not be there.

"William!" a voice shouted from across the stable yard as William rode out.

His attention snapped toward the figure, for he had been waiting for Lydia to try and prevent him from leaving, but this was not Lydia. He had no intention of not departing, but he regretted not kissing her one last time and making it a good one, so she would look forward to his eventual return. And, most importantly, not run off in the meantime.

William smiled at his brother. "Come to wave me off?"

"No, I have come to catch you before you make a terrible mistake," Anthony replied, wearing a frown more serious than it had any right to be. "I did not intervene at breakfast because I assumed you were just up to your usual tricks, but Jenny Hen tells me you are leaving, and for a month at that!"

William shrugged. "I have my reasons."

"And do you think the scandal sheets will look kindly on those reasons?" Anthony shook his head. "I know I am your younger brother, but get down at once. Come inside and cease your foolishness. I doubt that even the Beast would abandon his wife during the honeymoon. And her family are still here! They have powerful connections, William—they will destroy you if they think you have cast Lydia aside."

Clenching his jaw, William fixed his gaze on Anthony's hand, now wrapped around the bridle of the horse. "I have no time for a honeymoon, Anthony," he said sharply. "This marriage has been the solution to our first barrage of problems, and with a portion of her dowry, I can invest in some business endeavors to make this estate thrive again. There are important men in London at present, and I shall not miss rebuilding our fortune because I am supposed to spend four weeks ‘getting to know' my wife. I have years to do that."

Anthony relaxed his hold on the bridle, his brow furrowing in a more confused fashion. "If you are headed to London for business, why did you not say so to your wife?"

"Who is to say that I did not?" William replied, though he already knew the answer.

In any household, even a loyal one, there were always eavesdroppers and gossipers.

His brother gave him a pointed stare. "Did you?"

"No, and no one will tell her," William said. "I realize you are na?ve to the ways of women, Anthony, but if I give her any sort of information or power over me, she is going to use it against me. It is in their nature. Either she will meddle, thwart me, or reveal that information to others. That is why she must believe I am simply leaving."

Anthony rolled his eyes. "I might be na?ve, but I am not as narrow-minded as you. Not all women are untrustworthy, William. She married you, did she not? She has been dutiful and obedient, has she not? She did not embarrass you or flee. I suspect that warrants some respect, which you are not giving to her." He shook his head slowly. "And let us not forget that she is just an innocent young lady whom you trapped into this marriage—you owe her."

"Owe her?" William laughed. "I will never be beholden to any woman. As for her innocence, trust me, she is far from the shy wallflower you think she is."

His shoulder prickled with the memory of how she had clung to him, how she had pulled him closer and kissed him with the sort of fierce abandon that could make a man lose his mind. He almost had as he had gripped her thighs and longed for what was between them with a madness he had never experienced. A need so all-consuming that if she had not shoved him away and forbidden it, he would not have been able to resist the temptation.

"If you will excuse me, I have a legacy to save," he said, riding off before his brother or Lydia could stop him.

"And where have you been hiding, my precious one?" Lydia cooed, falling to her knees to scoop the enormous ball of black fur into her arms.

Snowy licked her face with a vengeance, his tail wagging so furiously that she feared he might wag it right off. She had hoped to have the beautiful dog attend her wedding, dressed in the little tailcoat and cravat he had worn for her sister's wedding, but her mother and father had forbidden it. In truth, she had assumed that he had been left behind at her sister's estate.

Emma laughed. "He has been living a life of luxury in the servants' quarters, where I do believe he has been given the choicest cuts of meat and all the affection his heart could desire." She tapped the side of her nose. "Silas snuck him into our chambers last night, but he has been howling for his new friends all morning. He adores the cook, most of all."

"Is that why you did not come down for breakfast, or are you still feeling unwell?" Lydia asked, scratching between Snowy's floppy ears.

Emma grimaced. "A little of both."

"What excuse do you have?" Lydia feigned outrage as she looked at Marina and Nancy, who had just approached arm in arm. "I did not realize I would be left alone with just my husband and his brother for company. If I had, I might have asked for a breakfast tray too."

Marina and Nancy exchanged an amused look, but it was Nancy who spoke first.

"In truth, dear Lydia, we assumed that you would be taking a breakfast tray. You and your husband. I think everyone did."

Lydia canted her head. "Why would you think that? Breakfast is served in the breakfast room."

"Because it was your wedding night," Marina replied, smiling. "And the two of you seemed rather comfortable with one another during that glorious waltz. It is not outlandish to think that you were content to be comfortable in… another sort of dance. One that takes place beneath the bedlinens."

Heat rushed into Lydia's cheeks, forcing her to concentrate on Snowy to spare her blushes. "There was no such dance," she muttered, resisting the impulse to daydream of his hand on her thigh, his ragged breaths, and the need she had felt thrumming inside him.

"You mean, your husband did not visit your chambers last night?" Marina's voice held a note of pity that bristled down Lydia's spine.

Married or not, Lydia was still to be treated like a dolt who knew nothing, or so it seemed.

She shook her head, unwilling to admit that she kicked him out and set a stupid rule. They would think her twice as foolish, and she would feel twice as silly. He had mentioned nothing about London last night, and likely, he would have stayed if she had not been compelled to match his commands with her own.

Unless I have been looking at this all wrong.

A thought came to her, a spark of inspiration that she wished she could say was intentional.

What if he broke her rule? She had warned him that there would be consequences, same as he had warned her. What if that consequence could be annulment? All she would have to do is seduce him before the end of the month. It could not be that difficult, could it?

There was the current distance to consider, but that could be easily remedied. The surprise of a visit might even work in her favor.

"How does one seduce one's husband?" she blurted out. Even Snowy looked surprised, tilting his head from side to side.

Emma, Marina, and Nancy all blushed and stared at her wide-eyed.

She pulled a face. "Oh, come now. You speak of this all the time in metaphors and allusions and innuendo, but when I ask outright, you are shocked? Who else am I to turn to for help?"

Emma crouched down, stroking Snowy's soft fur as she whispered, "But I thought you wanted to get the marriage annulled?"

"Trust me," Lydia replied, mustering a nervous smile.

But Emma's frown of concern merely deepened. "Are you reconsidering?"

"Just trust me," Lydia repeated. "And help me."

Emma gave a small nod and glanced back at Marina and Nancy. "I say we retire to the sunroom, if the Duke has one, and begin a very lengthy, very detailed, very… secret conversation. Snowy shall stand guard, and when we are done, I believe you shall have all you need for success, dearest Lydia."

Bolstered by her sister's confidence in her, even if she did not understand, Lydia got to her feet with refreshed enthusiasm. "We ought to have lemonade. Something to cool ourselves through what is undoubtedly going to be an afternoon of blushing, if the pink-cheeked sight of you three is anything to go by."

Nancy laughed. "It is ridiculous, is it not—to blush over something so wonderful. Why, when it is done properly and very thoroughly, it is like heaven on Earth. Nothing to be ashamed of. I remember when Adam and I first?—"

"Is that my darling daughter?" A high, cheerful voice cut through what was undoubtedly going to be a scintillating story, snatching the attention of all four women and Snowy.

Lydia stared at the approaching woman, puzzled. She had expected to see her mother there, though the voice was nothing like her mother's. Instead, she looked upon the face of the older woman she had last seen being thrown over Will's shoulder.

The resemblance was strong, the Dowager's hair still dark and silky, albeit peppered with strands of gray. Her eyes were slate gray, a touch darker than her son's, but no less striking. And it was obvious she had been a rare beauty in her youth, for she was still exceptionally beautiful now, and she must have been fifty or so. Perhaps that was why her eldest son was so exceptionally handsome, the trait passed down.

The Dowager came forward and took hold of Lydia's hands, smiling from ear to ear, her teeth white and perfect. "My sweetling, I am sorry that I have not come to give you my congratulations sooner." She squeezed Lydia's hands gently. "You cannot know how happy you have made me, marrying my son. The moment I saw you come through the church doors, I knew you would be his savior. I felt it in my bones—I thought, here is someone worthy and capable of softening his heart."

Remembering Will's rules, Lydia dropped her gaze and did not return the squeeze, as if by just being in the Dowager's presence, she was defying her husband's wishes. And she refused to be the one who broke a rule first, not when so much was resting on her own rule.

The Dowager sighed. "He has told you unkind things about me. He has told you not to speak with me."

It was not a question.

Lydia chewed on her lower lip. "He did not say that, Your Grace."

He just said I could not listen to you and should write to him if you bothered me.

But she was not bothered, and she would not be rude if she did not have to be. Besides, she assumed Will had meant that she could not listen as in could not heed any advice or tales that his mother might tell, not that she could not listen to her speak.

"Mary, please," the Dowager insisted.

Lydia gave a small nod.

"Where are my sons today?" Mary asked. "I had thought I would at least find Willie with you."

Willie?

That must have been one of the abbreviations he had said he could not abide, though why there was such ill feeling between mother and eldest son remained a mystery.

"I do not know where Anthony went," Lydia replied, "but Will has gone to London to reside at the townhouse for a short while. He left not long after breakfast."

Mary gasped, shaking her head vigorously. She was not the only one to be shocked, as worried looks flashed across the faces of Emma, Marina, and Nancy. Lydia could almost see what they were thinking—her husband did not come to her chambers last night, and he had abandoned her the day after the wedding.

It did not look good from an outside perspective.

The Dowager said as much. "Oh dear, that is not good! Not good at all." She pursed her lips. "My darling girl, you must ensure that your husband is obsessed with you. That he cannot live a moment without you and may die if he has to. You cannot allow for any prolonged distance, or it will grow in more ways than the physical."

"Absence is no indication of disinterest or failure," Emma interjected. "If the Duke has ventured to London for a short while, at such a time as this, I am certain he had an excellent reason." She glanced at Lydia for an explanation, and Lydia flashed back a look that she hoped relayed the message. I will tell you later.

Mary, however, waved Emma's words away. "I mean no offense, but I have had many more years to understand men better than most. These first weeks are crucial." She returned her attention to Lydia. "My dear girl, you are a beauty, make no mistake, but a duchess must be otherworldly in her beauty. She must be a creature that all men desire but cannot have—at least, that is what they must think."

It was Lydia's turn to be red-cheeked with shock, for she could not imagine her own mother saying such things.

"Save your blushes, sweetling," Mary said, chuckling. "When are you journeying to London to reunite with my son? Do not tell me you are planning to wait for his return, for that will not do at all."

Lydia fidgeted awkwardly, remembering something Will said before he left, letting it swell into an idea. "I had planned to meet him at the opera four days from now."

That would be long enough for him to think he had not been followed and long enough for her to learn about what needed to be done to get him to break her rule first.

Mary nodded, pleased. "Then we have four days to turn you into the breathtaking, rare bird that I know you can be."

Though it might have seemed like Lydia was breaking his rule, she was only bending it slightly; she had come up with the idea herself, and he had said nothing about refusing Mary's help when it came to fashion and beauty. As long as she wrote to tell Will that she had encountered his mother, she was still technically obeying him.

Besides, what he did not know about the rest could not come back to bite her.