Chapter 2
“What do you mean you will be away on business? Are you not supposed to be on your honeymoon?” Frederick Hale, Viscount of Elbury, asked.
Beside him, Alaric fought the urge to roll his eyes. They stood a little distance from the main table at his wedding breakfast. His wife was at the table, sitting beside three women. Alaric assumed they were her friends, judging by the warmth of their embrace.
He watched his wife’s face light up in the first genuine smile he had seen on her all day. His chest tightened, and he felt something stir inside of him. He stamped down on it hard. He would not let himself get distracted by her pretty face.
He turned from her, focusing on Frederick, who was watching him with an incredulous expression. “I mean precisely that. This marriage was about restoring her reputation after the scandal, nothing more. What is the point of a honeymoon?”
“You might get to know one another, after all, you are practically strangers,” Frederick pointed out.
“And I intend to remain so.” Alaric’s voice was cool.
“Why? From everything I have heard of her, she seems pleasant enough. And she is rather fetching.” Frederick gave him a sidelong look. “What is the worst that could happen?”
The scent of stale whiskey and cheap perfume rose in Alaric’s mind, making his hands clench into tight fists. He heard the distant echo of slurred laughter, a woman crying.
I will not think of that now. He pushed it from his mind, drawing in a deep breath as he met Frederick’s hopeful gaze.
“You know my views on romance, on marriage. I do not have the time nor the temperament for it. This match was a matter of obligation, honor, and propriety.” His mind went to the spark of fury he had seen in his wife’s eyes, and then the look of horror that had flitted briefly across her face as the priest had pronounced them married.
The thought made his chest ache, and he felt his head turn toward her before stopping himself. Instead, he caught a nearby servant’s eye and took a glass of champagne from him. “Besides, I suspect she wants as little to do with me as possible, and that will suit me just fine.”
Why did she look frightened of me, though?
“You are not that bad, Deverell. A little brooding to be sure, but not the worst company.” Frederick grinned at him. “I am sure once she gets to know you, she will love you.”
“That is the last thing I want.” Alaric saw a flash of green eyes in his mind, the mirror of his own, and pushed the thought away. “Romance is a fool’s game, and I have no wish to play.”
I have seen how it destroys lives, and I will have no part in it.
It was bad enough that the situation had forced them to marry; he would not add fuel to the fire.
Frederick opened his mouth as though to object and then shook his head. “You are not him.”
Yet. “I know that.” Alaric’s voice was soft,.
His eyes found his wife; her three friends were still with her, but a crowd of the ton’s vultures had managed to press around her, each clearly vying for her attention.
To her credit, Lady—no, Duchess Catherine Deverell— managed to compose herself well. Her smile could have fooled most people, maybe even Alaric, if he had not seen the way she looked when she saw her three friends.
The sunlight gleamed off her blonde hair, making it seem like spun gold. Her feigned laughter rang out, and Alaric found himself wondering what her real laugh would sound like.
The thought made him frown, and he could feel Frederick’s eyes on him. “You do not look so disinterested to me.”
“You mistake impatience for interest. Now that my wife has finished her meal, we can be on our way.” Alaric moved away from Frederick and toward the crowd that was making its slow way toward him.
As he drew level with them, the crowd pressed closer to the Duchess. He saw her eyes widen, her shoulders tensed and she looked around. Their eyes met.
“The Duchess and I must take our leave of you.” Alaric’s voice cut through the murmurs like a knife.
The crowd parted as he approached the Duchess, extending his arm for her to take. She hesitated briefly before slipping her arm into his.
The scent of lavender washed over him, and he forced himself not to take a deep breath. The crowd looked at him, but they made no effort to press closer.
He did not smile; he simply led his wife to the carriage, helped her inside, and then closed the door behind them. He sat across from her, wanting to give her space.
He watched her clasp her hands in her lap, shifting in the seat. “Thank you. It was getting a little overwhelming. I do not even know where Harriet and the others went; the crowd was so insistent.”
“You are a duchess. As far as they are concerned, you hold great power; their attempts to curry favor may grow more subtle, but I would not hold my breath.” He massaged his neck as the carriage jerked into motion.
“I suppose I will have to get used to it then.” He watched the muscles of her throat contract as she swallowed, saw the lock of hair drift across her face.
He felt an urge to tuck it behind her ear and instead clenched his hands into a fist.
‘You might get to know one another.’ He pursed his lips and looked out of the window, allowing silence to settle over the carriage.
The hair on the back of his neck prickled, and he turned to see her watching him. He met her blue eyes with his, arching an eyebrow at her. He saw her cheeks turn red as her eyes widened and she looked out her own window.
The corners of his lips quirked upward, and a part of him wanted to ask just what had made her blush.
Do not encourage things. The less said between the two of you, the better.
She glanced back at him, and her stomach let out a growl. Alaric watched as she covered it with her hand, her cheeks flushing even deeper with embarrassment.
She opened her mouth as though to speak, but at that moment, the carriage jerked to a stop, sending her sprawling.
Without thinking, he reached for her, grabbing her and holding her steady. As his hands touched her arms, he smelled her perfume again. Heat radiated from his fingers as their eyes met.
“I thought you said there would not be a third?” Her eyes danced, and there was a slight breathlessness to her voice.
Amusement and irritation clashed within him, but he kept his face expressionless, allowing one corner of his mouth to lift slightly. The door to the carriage swung open, and she recoiled from him.
Alaric exhaled and stepped out of the carriage. He waited, offering his arm to her as was proper. She accepted it, but only briefly to steady herself on the ground. Alaric ran his hand over the spot where her hand had touched him absently.
“Welcome to Coldmere Manor.” He gestured around them as they walked through the front door.
“Your Graces.” His butler, Mr. Wilkins, swept into a low bow as a footman took the Duchess’s coat. “Everything has been arranged as you instructed.”
“I trust you and Mrs. Danvers will see that the Duchess has all she needs.” Alaric gestured to his housekeeper, a smiling woman with curly red hair, who swept into a curtsy.
“Of course, Your Grace.” Mrs. Danvers beamed at the Duchess. “If Her Grace would be so kind as to follow me, tea is ready in the drawing room.”
“Thank you.” The Duchess inclined her head toward Mrs. Danvers, every bit the lady of the house.
Alaric saw that same practiced smile on her face, warm, charming, but guarded.
The real smile is even prettier. The thought caught him off guard, making his heart speed up, and he felt a small furrow form in his brow. He could hear the sound of a second carriage pulling up to the door, and felt his shoulders relax.
“Efficient as always, Mr. Wilkins.” Alaric rolled his shoulders and turned to leave, but as he did, a voice called out.
“Will... will you not be joining me?” his new wife asked.
Alaric turned to see her standing a little way from him, a slight frown on her face. “I am afraid not. This is where we part ways.”
He saw her frown deepen. “What do you mean?”
“That I have no wish to reside with a stranger.” He shrugged.
“Then why did you marry me?” she canted her head toward him.
“Because it was necessary to preserve your reputation and maintain my honor as a gentleman. This is a legal arrangement, nothing more, nothing less.” He ran a hand through his hair and turned away from her, heading toward his waiting carriage.
“If you need me, I will be at Coldmere Castle, just outside of Bath. However, I suggest you only contact me in the most dire circumstances.”
Her words stopped him, pulling his gaze back to her before he had even taken a step. “And what about me? While you are doing whatever you want, am I supposed to sit here twiddling my thumbs?”
“If that is how you choose to occupy your time, so be it. It is of little concern to me. It is your life, after all. You are free to do as you please.” He waved his hand through the air in a gesture of dismissal.
So long as you keep your distance, I do not care.
“And I am supposed to take you at your word?” Her eyes narrowed even more.
“Are you always this suspicious, or is this something you reserve just for me?” He canted his head toward her. “Have I given you reason to distrust me?”
“No. But you have not given me any reason to trust you either.” He watched the muscles in her neck contract as she swallowed.
“Is marrying you and restoring your reputation not enough?” He crossed his arms across his chest.
“By your own admission, that was born of propriety and obligation; hardly things that support a woman’s freedom.” Her shoulders had risen just slightly, her fingers flexed and clenched.
She is nervous. Alaric continued to study her, expecting her to look away from him, but she did not.
“More to the point, it is difficult to believe that a man who did not even ask me for my hand, who sought no consultation with me in my own wedding, and who even dictated where my wedding dress would be purchased from would allow me to live my life as I wished.”
“Your wedding dress? Why would I intervene in such a thing? I told your parents that I would pay for your dress and for your bridal wardrobe as a matter of duty.” Alaric frowned, unable to keep the explanation from slipping from his lips.
How much of her life has been controlled by others? It is no wonder she is so furious beneath that facade.
He kept his thoughts from his face, focusing on the way her eyes widened. He could see her recalculating something in her mind, some of the frustration fading from her eyes. That would not do.
I must make her want to keep her distance.
“So long as your actions do not bring my reputation into disrepute or cause a nuisance, I do not care what you do.” He made to turn from her.
“I am sure that will be only too easy with your gregarious nature.” The sarcasm in her voice pulled his focus back to her.
Alaric took a step toward his wife, letting his frown deepen even as amusement and admiration welled within him.
Few people would talk to me like that.
“I do not care for your tone, Duchess.”
“And I do not enjoy being treated like a simpleton. You cannot tell me I am free to do whatever I please, and then tell me not to make a nuisance of myself.” She tilted her chin toward him, her eyes flashing in the light, even as she took a half a step back.
“That is not freedom, it is control dressed up as rationality.”
He closed the distance between them, towering over her, his tone dangerous and silky as she pressed herself against a wall.
It must be like this.
“You think it unreasonable to expect you to stay out of trouble?”
“Trouble is not the same as nuisance. One man’s reasonable behavior may be another’s nuisance; that is a lesson I know well.
” She bit her lip, but did not drop her gaze.
“I have no wish to live my life second-guessing everything that I do, and wondering if this thing or that will be what you consider an inconvenience.”
“Then let us remove the guesswork.” They were so close he could practically count each of her eyelashes.
He felt her breath brush his skin. His heart raced, pounding in his chest. The scent of lavender filled his nostrils. Her blue eyes reminded him of lakes in winter—frosty and alluring, yet dangerous if tested.
Focus.
“I will leave you to do as you wish. Redecorate the house. Hire your own staff. Take up hobbies. I do not care. If your activities require more of me than supplying funding, I will consider them a nuisance.” He could feel her eyes searching his face. “Is that clear enough for you?”
She nodded. “Perfectly.”
“Good.” Alaric stepped away, ran a hand through his hair, and turned his back on her. “Then I will take my leave of you.”
He left without another word, not trusting himself to remain a moment longer in such close proximity to her.
He strode to the carriage, banged on the side, making the driver jump.
The driver moved to open the door, but Alaric was too impatient to wait.
He clambered in, and a moment later the carriage rumbled into motion.
“The sooner I am at Bath, the better.” Then he would be able to throw himself into work and forget those fiery eyes.
He leaned against the side of the carriage, running through lists of things he would need to do, using it to calm his racing thoughts.
When was the last time someone got under my skin like that?
He had come so close to losing control. “I have to keep my distance.”
A few hours later, his castle came into view on the horizon. He let out a sigh of relief.
Then, suddenly, the carriage jolted, and Alaric flung out his hands to catch himself. He frowned as the carriage jerked again, sending him sprawling.
“What the he– ” he growled as a crack rang out.
The carriage toppled to the side as the horses screamed. Alaric was slammed against the roof, the side, and then the floor. He was thrown around like a rag doll, finally ending up in a crumpled heap.
Each breath felt like a dagger in his chest. When he moved, lights flashed before his eyes, and the world swam, drifting in and out of focus. He felt something wet trickling down his face.
There was a metallic smell in the air as he tried to wipe the wetness from his face, but the motion made him cry out. The world around him was fading.
If I just close my eyes, just for a second.
The world went quiet as everything faded into darkness.