Chapter 18
Anne did not know why she agreed to walk with her husband that evening after dinner, but she did.
Perhaps, she reasoned as they walked through the gardens in silence, it was because she wanted to believe that he had changed. He was not a bad man; she knew that much. But that did not make him a good husband. Then again, perhaps she simply liked his company.
“The stables are much improved,” he said after a while. “I assume you are to thank for that?”
“I was not alone in it,” she said quickly. “They are only successful because those around us wish to help. I could never have done all of this by myself.”
“I would respectfully have to disagree. I have never known the stables to function as well as they do now, and that is only because you have come in with such expertise.”
Anne did not want to feel too strongly about the compliment, but she could not help herself. It was not only because Dorian was the one giving it, although that did make it all the more lovely, but because she had been wanting to be recognized for so long.
She wanted to be more than just a young lady, and at last, she was beginning to feel that she might be able to truly make her own way.
It was good to know that she was being helpful and contributing something to their home, but then she thought about how that was all she was good for. She was not a duchess, not in the way Lady Vivian could have been.
“I do remember our promise,” she said, looking ahead rather than at him. “And I understand that Tempest winning changes nothing between us.”
Dorian slowed to a halt.
“Nothing between us?” he repeated.
“I simply mean there is still no expectation. I would not want there to be anything complicated any more than you would.”
It was a lie, of course, but at least it gave her a sense of control.
Dorian studied her, and she could only hope he believed her.
“You stopped walking to say that you want nothing complicated?”
“I stopped because you stopped,” she replied too quickly. “It does not matter. You understand what I mean.”
“I am not certain I do.” Dorian fell back into step beside her. “We made an arrangement, yes, but we did it as strangers, and it is not as though I never want to see you at all. Just us being alone together adds complications, and I cannot say I dislike it. If you wish not to—”
“No,” Anne interrupted. “That is not what I mean.”
“Then what exactly are you referring to?”
“I am referring to the fact that you do not need to change on my account.”
“Change what, precisely?”
She tried not to cringe, hating that he was making her say it outright. She was only trying to tell him that he could do as he pleased, even if she had to admit that she did not want him to.
She knew their arrangement and what it meant for them both, but the thought of him with another woman, let alone Lady Vivian, caused an ache in her chest that she willed herself to ignore.
“Your habits,” she said bluntly. “Your… arrangements.”
That made him stop again.
“What arrangements are you talking about, Anne?”
She looked away immediately. “It does not matter.”
“It does,” he countered. “I can see that it is affecting you, and so it matters.”
A pause stretched between them, filled only by the faint sound of the gardens behind them.
“I am not asking for explanations. I am not asking you to change anything. I am simply saying that I understand how things were before this marriage.”
Dorian stepped closer, but not enough to crowd her, only enough that she could not avoid meeting his gaze. “How things were?”
“With Lady Vivian.”
Dorian did not react immediately.
“What has Lady Vivian told you?”
Anne hesitated, then forced the words out before she could reconsider them. “Enough that I understand why she speaks to you so freely. And enough that I understood what was happening when I saw you with her at the ball.”
Dorian’s brow furrowed slightly. “You saw me with her?”
“Yes,” Anne said. “Later in the evening. You left the ballroom together.”
“Anne, I understand that it might have looked a certain way, but—”
“I am not accusing you of anything. I am saying I am not na?ve. I know your life did not begin with this marriage, and I am not expecting it to change because of me.”
“Anne, what did she say to you to make you think anything has happened?”
Anne looked away again, the garden suddenly too still around them.
“She said enough,” she uttered. “And I saw enough to understand what I interrupted.”
“That is not an acceptable answer. You are accusing me of being unfaithful, which I am not, and I would like to know what has been said to make you think that.”
She wanted to believe him. Truly, she did. She turned fully toward him, already regretting the direction the conversation had taken but unable to undo it.
“She did not need to be precise to make herself understood,” she said quietly. “She implied that you both had an understanding and that what you share has been there for a long time.”
“And you believed her?” he asked.
“I did not, not until you both left the ballroom together. What was I meant to think? You told me that this arrangement would not include romance, and now I know why. I am not—I am not hurt to see that it is true.”
For a moment, Dorian remained silent. Then, unexpectedly, he let out a soft laugh.
Anne frowned slightly. “What is amusing about that?”
“It was a laugh of disbelief. Anne, nothing about this is what you think it is.”
“Then explain it properly.”
Dorian’s smile faded, replaced by something steadier. “Lady Vivian cornered me that night,” he began. “She told me that there was a matter regarding a stallion for sale that I might like to hear about, so I followed her out to discuss the matter. I tend not to conduct business in company.”
Anne frowned slightly. “So you left with her.”
“I followed her, yes,” he corrected. “Because I have known her for years. She comes from a family that breeds horses, so I thought it might be helpful to have her as a friend. Of course, she then admitted that there was no stallion and that she wished to inform me that I had changed. I agreed, and I said that it was for the better, which surely you can agree with?”
A brief pause followed.
“You have, yes.”
Dorian’s voice stayed level as he continued. “There was nothing else to it. If there was, I would never have kept it from you. I might not be the ideal husband, but I am an honest man.”
Anne looked at him, searching for any sign that he was lying to her, even if it was for her own benefit, but she found nothing.
“Lady Vivian told me enough to believe otherwise,” she mumbled. “She said that she was special to you.”
“Lady Vivian tells people whatever she thinks will make her appear interesting,” he said. “That does not make it true.”
Anne did not reply immediately. She did not know what to say, for she was not of the belief that she owed an apology for how she was feeling. But all the same, she knew that she was wrong.
“Whatever I did before this marriage,” Dorian continued, “whatever you think my life was like before you came here, it is not something I am interested in returning to.”
Anne’s gaze lifted to him. He held it.
“And what you think is between Lady Vivian and me is certainly not something I would begin with her,” he added. “Or anyone else, for that matter. Perhaps it is dishonest, given that I said this was to be a cordial arrangement, but I am a man of my word. I made a vow, and I am going to keep it.”
Silence followed.
Anne did not know what to say. It was what she had wanted to hear him say, but now that he had said it, she did not know what to do with it.
She softened slightly, though she did not look away.
“I did not think it would matter,” she said quietly. “Not to you, at least.”
“It does.”
She said nothing afterward, though the tension in her shoulders eased in a way she did not fully manage to hide. The relief came first, and only after it settled did she become aware of how close they had grown. She had not planned it, but she could not honestly say that she disliked it either.
Dorian watched her for several moments without speaking, his attention fixed on her as though he had all the time in the world. Then, slowly, a faint smile formed as he stepped a little closer, just enough that the space between them narrowed without fully closing.
“My word,” he said with a grin. “Was my Duchess jealous?”
“No.”
The answer came too quickly to be convincing, and she knew it at once.
Of course, she had been jealous. Dorian was her husband, and there was something about Lady Vivian that she did not like or trust. But she did not want him to know that, not when he seemed so amused by it.
Dorian’s smile widened slightly as he tilted his head. “That sounded most certain.”
“It is certain,” she replied, a fraction too firmly. “I was not jealous. I simply dislike being made a fool of by other people’s gossip.”
His gaze held hers, and he slowly raised his hand to rest against her face, which she was certain had turned pink. “Yet your cheeks seem to disagree with that explanation.”
“That is irrelevant.”
“It looks fairly relevant, from where I am standing,” he said.
She faltered further at his tone—light, unhurried, entirely too aware that he was having precisely the effect he wanted to have on her. She lifted her chin slightly, as though distance alone might restore control.
“I am not jealous,” she insisted.
Dorian’s smile turned more thoughtful, though it did not disappear. He took another small step closer, stopping just short of where propriety would have demanded it.
“I think,” he said, his voice lowering, “this may be the first time in my entire life that a woman has tried to convince me she is not jealous over me. Usually, they want me to think I am special to them when I am not, but you… you act as though I mean very little to you. Is that true, Duchess?”
Anne’s breath caught before she could stop it.
For a moment, she did not trust herself to speak.
Mortified, she turned sharply, as though she might simply escape the conversation before it could embarrass her further.
She had barely taken two steps when Dorian caught her wrist, not forcefully, but with enough firmness to stop her without effort.
The contact alone sent shivers through her.
She froze, becoming sharply aware of the point where his fingers rested against her skin. Her breath caught before she could steady it.
For a brief, irrational moment, her thoughts betrayed her entirely, because the nearness, the quiet of the gardens, the way he held her so carefully…
Her mind dredged up an image she immediately regretted.
She turned slightly, uncertain, her pulse unhelpfully loud in her ears. Dorian did not move closer in the way she had half-feared and half-wanted. Instead, he simply held her there, his smile no longer amused but having softened into something more attentive.
“Anne,” he said quietly, as if testing whether she would actually leave him there without responding to his question.
Her throat tightened. “Let go,” she managed, though it came out less firm than she had intended.
He glanced down at her wrist, then back at her face. “Are you running away because I was right or because I was wrong?”
“I am not running away,” she said quickly.
Dorian’s thumb shifted slightly against her wrist, brushing her skin in a way that made the contact feel even more deliberate in its restraint. “That does not answer my question.”
Anne lifted her chin, trying to recover some of her earlier composure, though it felt significantly less reliable now.
“You are mistaken about everything,” she said.
Dorian studied her for a beat longer, then gave a quiet sigh that sounded more like contained amusement than disbelief. He was infuriating when he wanted to be, and she would have said so if she did not think he would enjoy hearing it so much.
“You look as though you expected something else to happen just now.”
“I did not,” she scoffed.
His gaze held hers. “You did.”
Heat rose to her cheeks again before she could stop it, and that alone felt like surrendering evidence she had not intended to offer.
“I thought nothing,” she insisted.
“That is usually what happens when it becomes too much,” he pointed out.
Anne pulled lightly at her wrist, but he did not release her. The resistance was minimal, and it only made the awareness between them sharper rather than resolved.
“Dorian,” she said, quieter now, “this is inappropriate.”
“We are married,” he reminded her.
That stopped her completely, not because she disagreed, but because she had no immediate reply that did not complicate things further.
“If anything,” he added, “the only thing inappropriate about any of this is how easily you believe I would do something you do not want. I will only ever protect you, Anne.”
Anne looked at him properly then, and for the first time since he had caught her wrist, the thought she had briefly entertained earlier felt both foolish and dangerously revealing.
Dorian noticed the change in her expression immediately. His grip loosened. Then, after a brief pause, he let her go.