Chapter 16

William had never thought of himself as a jealous man. He had never had any reason to be. But what he had seen in the tearoom at the park had stayed with him like a dark cloud upon his return to the townhouse, made stormier still by Lydia's sharp and clever dismissal of him.

Do not touch you? Do not touch you!

It rankled him every time he remembered it and prompted a frustrated laugh if he remembered it alongside the events of last night. She had not minded his touch then; she had relished it.

"Anyone here?" a welcome voice called from the hallway, outside the drawing room.

"Just me," William replied.

He considered hiding his glass of brandy, for it was not really the hour for hard liquor, but he knew his brother would not question it.

The door opened, and Anthony poked his head inside. "I thought you were meeting with gentlemen of business all afternoon." He glanced at the brandy glass and pulled a worried face. "Did it go that badly?"

"It went rather well, actually," William replied, surprised that Anthony had even mentioned the drink.

"Ah, so we are celebrating?"

"Yes and no." William took another sip.

Anthony rolled his eyes and went to pour himself a more modest measure. "Are you planning to continue being deliberately vague?"

"Discussions were had, plans were drawn up, contracts were suggested and will—with any luck—soon be signed. For the estate, it has been a very productive day." William closed his eyes. "I do not know why they call him the ‘Cruel Duke.' He is very serious, that is true, but I do wonder where the cruel part has come from."

Anthony frowned. "You will have to enlighten me. What does your day have to do with the ‘Cruel Duke'?"

"He is to be my business partner if all proceeds well. Rather, he is to be my financial advisor and my partner in enterprise. Did you know he is appallingly rich?"

Anthony seemed horrified as he sat down, swirling his glass. "That will not do your social standing any favors, Will. Rumors have abounded about him for years, even in his absence, and there is rarely smoke without fire. Perhaps you saw no cruelty because you are a gentleman."

"I need income. I need it quickly, and I need it to be lasting," William explained, opening his eyes. "The Duke still needs someone to assist him in re-entering Society, to allay everyone's fears and suspicions about him. I am good at winning over the ton, he is good at business and finances. Whatever he did in the past, I say let it remain there."

Anthony snorted. "Coming from the man who has held a grudge for seven years? A grudge so unyielding that you married Lydia just to be satisfied, at last?" He paused, tapping the side of his glass. "Have you read the papers today?"

"Should I have?"

William had needed to leave the townhouse as swiftly as possible that morning, for after a restless night of anything but satisfaction, he had been in no mood for an awkward breakfast with his wife.

"Lydia made quite the impression at the opera," Anthony said with a sly smile.

William pretended he did not care. "Did she? I cannot say I noticed."

"There were no fewer than four articles written about her," Anthony continued, leaning forward in his chair. "Two declared her to be the most beautiful lady in England, one suggested it was the dawning of a new Golden Era for Society's wives, and she was leading the charge. And another mentioned that it was impossible to concentrate on the opera itself with her sitting there, watched by every lady and gentleman in attendance. One article mentioned that the only one not watching her was you. I believe they called you ‘blind or mad or both.' Or something of that ilk."

William smiled stiffly. "What would they have preferred me to do? Give them something sordid to write about in the scandal sheets instead?"

He would have preferred to do that too and might have if his wife had not shown such masterful restraint. Much to his chagrin, he was still secretly impressed that she had managed to resist his charms at the opera.

"They said that the ‘Great Rake' had lost his touch," Anthony teased. "Although, I suppose you should be grateful, for it has lessened the circulating suspicion that Lydia is with child and that is why the wedding was so rushed."

"Lost my touch?"

William stared down into the amber liquid, annoyed in a way that he knew was petty and foolish, but it made no difference. Lydia was improving his reputation among the ton while simultaneously decimating the reputation he had infamously built over the past seven years.

Anthony chuckled. "I thought that might be the part that bothered you the most."

"There is nothing amiss with my touch," William replied coolly. "But she is not like the ladies who have been my entertaining companions these past years. She is my wife, and that position demands a certain level of decorum and respect."

Anthony arched an eyebrow. "She refused you, did she not?"

"What?"

"Servants whisper, Will," Anthony replied, grinning. "Apparently, you have been kicked out of your wife's bedchamber twice now. I suspected as much, considering you are sulking in the drawing room with a glass of brandy at one o'clock in the afternoon."

William shot his brother a withering look. "There is no sulking afoot, Anthony. I was rewarding myself for a well-spent morning, and the good fortune it shall hopefully bring to us. As for the servants, if you would be so kind as to tell me which ones were whispering, I shall have it nipped in the bud immediately. Servants can gossip among themselves, but when it reaches your ears, then it becomes a problem."

"I am no snitch, Brother." Anthony was clearly enjoying himself, which seemed rather ironic, considering he had not even kissed a woman, as far as William knew. "But I do have an attentive ear to provide if you would like to unburden yourself of your nuptial woes?"

William got up and walked to the window, which looked out on the cobbled streets and blossom-scattered pavements of Mayfair. Across, beyond a black iron fence, several ladies and gentlemen—neighbors of his—were enjoying the private park in the early afternoon sunshine.

"She has made a rule," he said, frowning at a pair of dogs that chased each other around a hawthorn tree. "I gave her my three rules, and she suddenly decided to have one of her own. The most infuriating rule, in truth, but I will not allow myself to be the one who breaks an oath first."

Ever since he had returned from Hyde Park, he had known she was right about the breaking of his rules. Technically speaking, she had not. She had slightly bent them, perhaps, but she had not broken them. And that meant the challenge was still in place, and he had no grounds upon which to punish her.

You would enjoy your punishment, kitten.

He had such ideas, such delicious notions in mind to tease and torment her in the most pleasurable ways until she was crying out his name so loud that it would awaken the entirety of Mayfair. All for naught, for as she had said herself, he was not allowed to touch her.

"What rule?" Anthony asked.

William shot him a pointed look, as if to say, Is it not obvious?

"Ah, she has forbidden… relations?"

William sighed. "For a month."

With anyone.

He did not add that part, knowing he would get an earful from his brother if he did.

"Was this before or after you said you were going to retreat to London for an entire month?" Anthony asked.

"Before," William replied.

Anthony nodded, that maddening smile still on his face. "So, you thought you would cheat and remove yourself from temptation?"

"Have you spoken to her?" William narrowed his eyes. "You sound like her. What you both say is cheating, I say is wisdom. She did not say I had to remain at Stonebridge in order to endure the month, and as I did have business to attend to here, I decided to kill two birds with one stone."

Anthony laughed, sipping merrily on his drink. "But she followed you! Ah, she is a wily one, my dear sister-in-law! I knew I liked her. I have always thought that the reason you did not marry sooner was that there has never been a lady crafty enough to keep you on your toes." He nodded, still chuckling. "It appears you have met your match, Brother."

William returned his attention to the private park and the dogs chasing one another. For reasons unknown, every time the dog behind almost caught up, it stopped and let the other run ahead. Perhaps, it enjoyed the chase more than the capture.

"I might ask why you are here," he said, his gaze drawn to Anthony's reflection in the window. "You are supposed to be at Stonebridge, too."

Anthony shrugged. "Everyone is in London. I would be terribly bored at Stonebridge on my own. Besides, who would I tease?"

"I do not know, but might you take your attempts at riling me elsewhere? It will not work, but it is ruining my celebratory afternoon somewhat." William returned to his armchair and put his feet up on the small table in front of him, emulating the very picture of casual relaxation.

Yet, Anthony did not leave. "What were your rules?"

William explained them to him briefly.

"Well…" Anthony gave a low whistle. "Is it any wonder she sought to get a modicum of revenge? At least one of those makes no sense whatsoever. You cannot tell her that she may have a lover and then inform her in the same breath that all the children she carries must be yours. After all of your… adventures with ladies, I would have assumed you knew that."

William smiled darkly. "I know that, in all my ‘adventures,' I have never sired a child. There are ways to prevent it, and if she is confused by that, she may ask me how it is done."

"And why not allow her to listen to Mother?" Anthony argued, moving on with a slight pinkening of his cheeks, squirming in his chair. He had always been something of a prude, despite occasional attempts to pretend otherwise.

"You know why," William replied, downing what was left in his glass.

To his surprise, Anthony laughed.

"It is funny to you?" William asked, raising an eyebrow.

Anthony put up a hand in mock surrender. "No, but what is funny is you pretending you care a jot about your wife following your rules. It is not about the rules at all. It is about control because you are afraid."

"I beg your pardon?" Anger flared in William's chest.

Anthony did not back down, leaning so far forward in his seat that one more shuffle would see him topple right off it. "You are afraid, Will. You have no reason to be, but you are. You are afraid that Lydia will be like Mother, but they could not be more opposite. Why, you were probably secretly thrilled when she gave you her own rule, for if you were to consummate your marriage, there is every chance you might—heaven forbid—grow attached to her! Love her! Be happy with her!"

"You are ridiculous," William muttered, putting on a sly smile of his own. "I often forget just how na?ve you are. How innocent. How wet behind the ears. Still, as the younger of us two, I suppose it is natural that you would be the wide-eyed daydreamer who believes that love is real."

He reached toward the vase of flowers on the side table and plucked out a stunted, withering white rose. With a rumbling laugh, he got up and slid the rose behind Anthony's ear before sitting back down, satisfied.

"There," he said. "Now, you look the part."

Anthony puffed out his chest and removed the rose from behind his ear. "Love is real, and I would rather be na?ve than jaded." He gestured to the door, using the flower as a pointer. "Perhaps, you have frittered your affections away on so many women that you would not know love—or a good woman, even—if it were to smack you in the face."

"But Lydia did smack me in the face, and I feel no love, nor have I seen too much evidence of her being a good woman," William pointed out, pleased to have regained the upper hand. "Would a good woman not obey her husband without question?"

Anthony jabbed a finger toward him. "You should have stayed at Stonebridge. You should not have been cowardly. And if it was simply a matter of business, which I no longer believe, you should have brought her with you from the start."

"She has been useful. I cannot deny that." William thought of the letters on the silver post tray, waiting to be read. Invitations, most likely. "But troublesome, too."

"You forget that I know you better than anyone, Will," Anthony blustered. "You may put on this fa?ade of bravado and nonchalance to those who do not know you and trick them easily, but not me. You are afraid of her becoming dear to you, for why else would you have run from her?"

William's nostrils flared, his spine prickling. "I did not run."

"You did. You fled out of fear that you might begin to care for her, that you might begin to like her so much that you would break her rule," Anthony pressed. "She is clearly testing your loyalty and your sincerity, and, my dear brother, you are failing."

If he had smacked William, it would have stung less. "My loyalty and sincerity do not require testing," he hissed back. "I am the gentleman, I am the husband, I am the provider, I am the one to offer security and freedom to that girl. I am the one keeping my side of the bargain. I will not deign to be tested by my wife. I will not be…" He stopped sharply, pouring himself a fresh measure of brandy in order to cool his ire.

"You will not be what?" Anthony prompted.

William sipped. "I will not be dictated to by anyone. If she does not like my conduct, that is her concern. I have made no promises beyond offering security and freedom. She was forewarned. She may ask for nothing more."

"That is not what you were going to say," Anthony said, shaking his head. "I pity you, Will. I pity how… how haunted you are. How narrow-minded you are."

William flashed his brother a dark smile. "Well, take your pity elsewhere. It is not welcome in my afternoon of celebration."

Anthony got to his feet and walked to the door. William stared at the clock on the mantelpiece and sipped his brandy, believing that to be the end of it. Grateful that it was.

But as Anthony reached the threshold, he turned to look back over his shoulder and said in a soft, quiet voice, "I hope that brandy brings you comfort, for if you keep behaving this way, it will be the only thing that will." He paused, his voice thickening as he threw his parting bomb. "Then, you will be like Father."