A Surprising Husband #2
As she turned to leave, he called after her: “Oh, and, my lady? The word you wanted in your editorial was ‘docui,’ not ‘docueram.’ If you’re going to mock our educational system, best to be grammatically impeccable.”
She paused at the doorway, glancing back over her shoulder. Her emerald eyes met his blue ones across the sunlit room. “Thank you for the correction, my lord. Though I maintain that teaching Latin to sheep would be more productive than the current system at Eton.”
His surprised laugh followed her into the corridor, warm and genuine in a way she hadn’t heard before.
As she made her way to her waiting carriage, Amelia found herself contemplating the stranger who was her husband.
The Marquess of Hereford wore reading glasses, played the pianoforte badly at midnight, and was more considerate than she could have imagined.
None of these details aligned with the rake she’d thought him to be.
Perhaps, she thought as she settled into her carriage, this marriage of convenience might prove more interesting than expected—though suddenly more complicated.
*
Hereford waited until he heard the door close behind his new wife before he allowed himself to slump in his chair.
He hadn’t expected her presence to affect him so.
He’d known she’d join him. He had interrogated the housekeeper for that purpose.
Yet when she strode into the parlor with her luminous skin glowing in the morning light, with her rosy cheeks and rosier lips…
Seeing her in the morning in his private quarters…
“Bloody hell,” he muttered, reaching for the brandy before remembering the hour.
“Rather early for that, my lord.”
Hereford didn’t need to look up to recognize Barker’s voice.
“I wasn’t actually going to pour any, Barker.”
“Of course not, my lord.” Barker’s tone suggested he believed otherwise. He began tidying the meal trays. “I trust breakfast was informative?”
Hereford shot him a sharp look. “To what, pray, are you alluding?”
“Merely that it’s the first time in recent memory you’ve been awake to see the sunrise. And to arrange such specific breakfast preparations…” Barker picked up a discarded copy of the Review, his expression carefully neutral. “Most unusual.”
“I was simply ensuring the household runs smoothly.”
“Indeed.” Barker’s tone could have dried the Thames. “Just as you were ‘simply ensuring efficiency’ when you had Cooper station William at the front steps specifically to assist Her Ladyship?”
“Basic courtesy,” Hereford muttered.
“Ah yes. The same courtesy that prompted you to have the library lamp replaced? And to import marmalade from Seville? And to save every edition of the Review containing her editorials?”
“Barker.” Hereford’s warning tone would have silenced most servants.
“I’ve known you since you were in leading strings, my lord,” Barker continued undaunted.
“I served your father for thirty years before you. Which is why I feel compelled to point out—you’re either developing genuine feelings for Her Ladyship, in which case these little gestures, while charming, are insufficient, or you’re attempting to manipulate her, in which case…
” He shook his head as he gazed heavenward.
“Well, she strikes me as rather too clever to be managed that way.”
“I’m not developing feelings,” Hereford mumbled.
“Of course not, my lord.” Barker adjusted the newspapers with maddening precision. “Though I can’t help but notice you’ve been reading Her Ladyship’s editorial upon waking and before retiring each day.”
Hereford tossed the Review aside as if it had offended him and opened the Times. “I was merely looking after my business interests.”
“Naturally.” Barker paused in his tidying. “Your father used to say that intelligence in a woman was like fire—fascinating to observe but dangerous to handle carelessly.”
“What’s your point, Barker?”
“Simply that Lady Hereford strikes me as particularly… incendiary.” He picked up the brandy decanter Hereford had been eyeing. “Especially where matters of social reform are concerned. The factory commission report, for instance—”
Hereford’s head snapped up. “What about it?”
“Her ladyship seems quite interested in investigating ownership records based on what Mrs. Hudson tells me.” Barker’s gaze was pointed. “Records that might prove… revealing.”
The muscle in Hereford’s jaw ticked. “Those investments are perfectly legal.”
“Legal, yes. But perhaps not something a wife dedicated to workers’ rights would appreciate discovering about her husband?”
Before Hereford could respond, Cooper appeared in the doorway. “My lord? The dowager marchioness’ secretary just called. She’s requesting to move dinner to eight. Apparently, she requires extra time to gather her thoughts about Lady Hereford’s most recent editorial.”
Hereford groaned. Perfect. Just perfect.
“Oh, and my lord?” Cooper hesitated. “Mrs. Pierce mentioned that Her Ladyship sometimes forgets to eat when working. Should I have a tray sent to the Review office?”
Hereford was tempted to wave him away, irritated by his own concern. It wasn’t his responsibility to ensure she ate properly. She’d made it quite clear she wanted no interference.
And yet…
“Indeed,” he said to the butler. “Have them include those little almond cakes she liked at breakfast this morning.” He paused. “And tell her they’re from Mrs. Pierce.”
“Of course, my lord.” Cooper and Barker exchanged a look.
“That will be all,” Hereford said pointedly. “Both of you.”
Alone again, he stared at the brandy decanter Barker had deliberately placed just out of reach, trying to ignore the growing complexity of his situation. One year. He just had to maintain this delicate balance for one year.
The thought filled him with dread.