Chapter 8
Two days later, they were in the carriage, returning to London. The carriage wheels clattered against the ground, staccato and harsh.
Tilly swung her legs as she traced the letters in the book her governess had given her, unaware of the tension between the adults seated next to her.
Edith didn’t dare move. Her legs were so close to Laurence’s that every bump made them touch. She kept her eyes trained out the window, knowing that if she looked at him, she’d want him.
The longing had become much worse since their kiss. Each time they touched, even if by accident, she felt her stomach jump and the air leave her lungs. It did not help that she had found the exact window that gave her a view of the area where Laurence exercised.
She sighed, her thoughts far from the rugged hills and scattered trees beyond the carriage window. Laurence was at the forefront of all her thoughts.
A bump in the road shook the carriage. Laurence lurched forward and had to catch himself on the headrest of her seat.
“Sorry!” the driver called back to them.
Edith hardly heard the man, so preoccupied was she with Laurence’s nearness. She noticed that he was wearing the same cologne he had worn when he kissed her.
“B-Be more careful!” Laurence shouted at the driver before sitting back.
“Are you all right, Your Grace?” Tilly asked.
“I’m fine,” Laurence grumbled.
Edith tried to settle and look out the window again. Her mouth had gone dry, and she could feel the heat prickling her skin.
It was a great relief when they finally arrived at the townhouse. While the servants busied themselves with unpacking their luggage, Tilly immediately began running around the space to explore.
Edith steered clear of the commotion, not least of all because she had no interest in bumping into Laurence again.
Laurence seemed agitated as he made his way down the corridor and passed Edith without sparing a word.
“Where are you going?” she asked.
He hesitated. “My study,” he replied gruffly.
Edith’s heart sank. She knew they were here for work, but for some reason, being separated from him again so soon gnawed at her.
As he walked further down the corridor, she racked her brain for a reason to make him stay.
“I will be visiting some ladies tomorrow,” she called out.
Laurence halted and turned to face her. “I see.”
“I will endeavor not to be out too long,” she added. “But I am hoping to secure some donations.”
Laurence nodded before finally disappearing into his study.
Edith’s shoulders dropped in disappointment.
Even a moment more of his attention would have made me feel better.
“Oh, your ward is so sweet, Your Grace!” Lady Fairfax giggled from behind her fan.
Edith and Tilly sat at a table with Lady Fairfax and her cousin Lady Wexbridge. The luncheon was a luxurious affair. Clearly, the gathered women were eager for the new Duchess’s attention.
“Miss Tilly is indeed a lovely girl,” Edith agreed, smiling down at her as she tried her best to eat her soup without spilling a drop. “And she is not my ward. His Grace has claimed her as his child, and thus she is mine too.”
“Oh, pardon me, then. I’m sure you’ve enjoyed having some time to restore your energy after your whirlwind marriage,” Lady Wexbridge remarked with a giggle.
“I must ask, how did that come about?” Lady Fairfax asked.
“I can hardly say.” Edith laughed.
“And he supports your charity?” Lady Wexbridge asked, leaning forward.
“He does. His Grace appreciates someone who can be independent,” Edith replied. Her heart ached at the implications of her own words.
“What a marvelous man!” Lady Wexbridge beamed.
“And if he supports you, so much the better,” Lady Fairfax added.
“Lord Wexbridge!” Lady Wexbridge called out to her husband, who was sitting in the library with Lady Fairfax’s father.
Lord Wexbridge entered the room and smiled at the ladies. Edith watched as his eyes darted to Tilly, and his smile faltered. A beat later, he smoothed it back into place, but it did not reach his eyes.
“Whatever has you shouting, my love?” he asked, putting an arm on the back of Lady Wexbridge’s chair.
Edith had to bite the inside of her cheek at the saccharine display. She knew that envy would do her no good. It also wasn’t an emotion that she was used to feeling. But watching the couple, something in her ached to have that with Laurence.
“Her Grace has been telling us about her life with the Duke and her charitable endeavors. It would seem that Her Grace is seeking donations at the moment, and His Grace is supporting her,” Lady Wexbridge explained.
“The Duke is truly supporting you, Your Grace?” Lord Wexbridge asked.
“Indeed,” Edith replied. “I am ever so grateful to have such an understanding husband.”
Lord Wexbridge nodded, but his eyes drifted. Edith knew a calculating look when she saw one.
“I say, Your Grace, what is the focus of your charitable ventures at the moment?” he asked.
Edith smiled. “We are looking to assist in the building of an orphanage. Thereafter, our attention will turn to the Foundlings Hospital.”
Lord Wexbridge glanced at Tilly and nodded. “Fitting, I suppose,” he murmured, earning a slight tap on his wrist from his wife.
Lady Fairfax offered Edith an apologetic look.
“In any event, if His Grace supports it, it’s only right that we do so. How much—”
“I was thinking fifty pounds would be an acceptable donation,” Lady Wexbridge spoke over her husband.
Lord Wexbridge sputtered, and panic flashed across his face.
“Oh, that would be ever so generous,” Edith gushed.
“Perhaps we should speak about this in private later.”
“I see no reason to.” Lady Wexbridge waved a dismissive hand. “We will send you the money within the week.”
“Thank you, Lady Wexbridge.” Edith smiled.
“And I will speak to my father to make sure he sends something too,” Lady Fairfax piped up.
Lord Wexbridge bowed stiffly before slinking away to the library. After he had left, the women burst out laughing.
Tilly looked up, a little confused but smiling. “Thank you for being so generous with Her Grace’s charity,” she said sweetly.
Lady Wexbridge nodded, noticeably smitten with her sweet face. “Of course, Miss Tilly. It’s only right and good that we help the less fortunate.” She smiled.
“Yes!” Tilly nodded earnestly. “Her Grace made sure to look after me. With luck, perhaps one day I will run a charity like hers and look after other children like me.” She beamed.
Edith felt her heart warm at Tilly’s words. She was so glad that the girl was absorbing all the right lessons.
“And why, oh why, are you already back in town, old boy?” James drawled as Laurence entered White’s billiard room, which held a handful of men, some smoking pipes, others engrossed in animated conversation.
James held a small glass of burgundy and waved Laurence over.
Laurence sighed. “I have business I must attend to, Lord Mallowby. You are aware of this.”
He lowered himself into a comfortable, overstuffed lounge chair near the crackling fire. He hadn’t missed the smoky rooms or the buzz of constant chatter. Sadly, being here was necessary.
James chuckled and pulled back his cue stick. “I don’t see how on earth one can think of work in your position.” He smirked, lining up his shot.
“Whatever do you mean?” Laurence asked as he took a sip of his wine.
“Well, you have such a scrumptious wife back at the castle,” James said.
Laurence bit back a growl. “You seem to forget that I married for the sole purpose of accessing my father’s fortune.”
“Oh, yes, how could I have let that slip my mind?” James snorted, rolling his eyes.
“I mean it, James.”
“Ah, yes, how could I forget? No heart, and apparently no functioning appendage either. A marvel of modern uselessness.” James snickered.
“James,” Laurence warned.
“Laurence, you have seen the woman you have married, have you not? You have actually laid your eyes upon her?” James asked, taking another shot.
“Of course, I—”
“Then you are aware why I think you’re completely mad for not being with her right now?” James asked.
“I don’t care much for your opinion on my marriage,” Laurence snapped, shaking his head.
James laughed and took a long sip of his drink. “I am in awe of how much you enjoy torturing yourself, old sport.”
Laurence glared at James, who shot him a mock hurt look.
“Moving on,” Laurence huffed. “Have you heard anything about the properties in the East End?”
“Right to business,” James sighed. “Yes, although I think I must warn you of something.”
“Which would be?” Laurence prompted, raising an eyebrow.
“The Earl of Hargrove has also expressed interest in those properties,” James said, straightening.
Laurence’s fingers tightened around his glass. He despised that man.
“Of course,” he grumbled.
“So, if you’re interested, you should act with haste,” James added.
“As if I am unaware of the fact that timing is everything in my business.”
“I am only saying it because you seem… well, rather distracted, my friend, despite how vehemently you deny it.”
Laurence shot him another glare. “Mallowby.”
James closed his mouth and took up his cue.
Laurence pressed his fingers to his brow and drew a deep breath. As much as he didn’t want to admit it, he was distracted, and had been since he’d kissed his wife.
Every night, his lips felt the tender touch of hers. His thoughts would drift to the quiet sigh she’d let slip while he’d held her. A slow but intense heat stirred in his gut at the thought of pulling her closer or pinning her to the wall.
The cursed carriage ride hadn’t helped. He’d been flung across the seat and into her, and it took every shred of self-discipline not to kiss her again.
He had hoped that a visit to the townhouse and the work he had to do would be enough to distract him, but they weren’t. Most nights, he was forced to pass her room on the way to his bedroom. He could hear her soft breaths, smell her perfume, and hear her moving under the covers.
This woman is enough to drive any man mad and turn his thoughts to sin.