“Are you ready?” he asked and handed her up before climbing atop his own horse.

  “What is his name?” she asked.

  “Bucephalus. He’s named after Alexander the Great’s horse.”

  She leaned over and brushed her hand against the horse’s neck. “I will bring you an apple next time, Bucephalus,” she promised. “You look the greedy type so I might slice it into pieces and feed them to you to keep you from gobbling it down.”

  Anthony pictured her feeding him. Naked. He shook his head, trying to rid himself of the image.

  They spent close to two hours riding various portions of the property and then rode to the highest part of the estate. The April day was sunny and clear and they could see a great distance. Laurel slid from the saddle and went to stand at the edge.

  “It’s hard to believe all this is owned by one man,” she said, awe in her voice. “That one day our son will inherit it.”

  He had also dismounted and came to stand beside her. He refrained from standing behind her and slipping his arms about her. He had heard of wounded soldiers becoming addicted to laudanum, the drug becoming their entire reason to exist. This woman was like an opiate that he was having trouble staying away from. He must learn to temper his lust and only come to her every now and then. He prided himself on his control, even managing to harness his constant rage, only unleashing it to serve him. His growing attraction to Laurel threatened to upset the balance of his neatly ordered life.

  “Shall we?” he asked.

  He assisted her into the saddle and mounted Bucephalus. They rode to the first of the tenant farms, where they were warmly greeted. More people showed up, wanting to meet him and visit with the duchess again. Over and over, farmers pulled him aside, praising Laurel. In one afternoon, she had gained the love of their people without even trying. He tamped down the jealousy he felt and tried to smile and thank everyone.

  It just showed Anthony, though, how dangerous his duchess was. He would get children off her—but it was best that they lead separate lives. He would remain faithful to her but he couldn’t be around her every day.

  If he were, she would eventually break down all his walls and find out who he really was.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Laurel awoke, her eyes grainy from lack of sleep.

  Anthony hadn’t come to her last night.

  She’d stayed awake as long as she could, thinking of the day they’d spent together. While he hadn’t been as warm toward the tenants as she would have liked, she understood as a duke, he needed to keep a certain distance from everyone. They’d returned after being out all day and once again, after bathing, eaten in the winter parlor. She enjoyed the small room. Sanders had rolled in a cart both times and placed their plates and wine in front of them before leaving. After having footmen always present, Laurel liked the intimacy of dining alone with her husband—almost too much.

  She reminded herself that he was just her husband. That while they got along for the most part, they were two very different people. It wasn’t her plan to ever fall in love.

  But if she had, it would have been with Anthony.

  Her warring feelings gave her pause. At times, she thought of him as Linfield, the haughty duke who contained his emotions. When he touched her, though, he was Anthony, the man whose need for her raged out of control. Laurel wondered if he thought the same of her. Was she truly two people when around him? Sometimes, she still felt as if she were that inadequate shop girl, too thin from not having enough to eat, trying to avoid the likes of Julius Farmon so she could stay safe another day. She might be the Duchess of Linfield but a part of her would always feel like Laurel Wright.

  She stretched, telling herself she would hide her disappointment when she saw her husband. If he knew how long she had waited up for him, it would give him satisfaction. Sometimes, she felt they were at constant war with one another, jockeying for the superior position in their marriage. She knew society—and even the Bible—determined that a man was to be the head of a household and marriage. Why she couldn’t accept that, she didn’t know. She merely wanted to be herself, even if that self seemed to antagonize her husband to no end.

  After ringing for Retta and dressing for the day, Laurel went to the breakfast room. A note rested at her place. She opened it and learned that Anthony had already eaten and had ridden out with Mr. Woodward. He promised to be back by teatime.

  She folded the note again, the first from him. It was terse, with no mention of affection, much like the man who wrote it. Yet she knew he felt deeply. Laurel determined to solve the mystery of his childhood. She’d already tried, speaking with some of the longtime tenants. They remembered him as a boy, one who roamed the estate freely. He’d been curious and had a streak of mischief within him. Other than that, none of them knew much about him. It saddened her when one farmer said the boy had gone to school and never returned. The Duke of Linfield and his heir, Theodore, never mentioned Anthony the few times they were out and about on the estate. The farmer said no one asked what had become of the child because none of them wanted to anger His Grace.

  The servants were no help, either. She’d spoken to many of them. None had been here during Anthony’s time in the household, more than twenty years ago. Laurel understood servants came and went but she had hoped she might find at least one who could clear the muddy waters for her.

  Once she’d finished breakfast, she walked through the entire house again, making detailed notes on what she would like done once they returned after the Season, when they would make Linwood their more permanent home. It made her wonder about Hannah and Aunt Constance. She knew the older woman had a country residence and supposed Hannah had been living with her. Would they return there—or come to Linwood? Of course, it was possible Hannah might very well find a husband by Season’s end and marry and move in with him. It made Laurel eager to return to London and see these new family members, as well as visit with her own. Hudson would leave in a few months for university. She hoped he might spend at least part of his holidays with her at Linwood or their other estates. Anthony had promised to take her to see the properties he owned. She was curious as to their locations and just how many there might be. At least Linwood was located close to her St. Clair relatives and would make visiting them easy.

  After she’d compiled her list, Laurel returned to her room and spent a few hours examining the ledgers she’d borrowed from Mr. Woodward. She was pleased to find that Linwood was quite profitable. She decided to return the ledgers to the estate manager’s office since it was almost teatime and she expected Anthony to join her, based upon what his note indicated. When she entered, it surprised her to find Woodward sitting behind his desk.

  “I didn’t mean to interrupt,” she apologized. “I’ve come to return the ledgers I borrowed.”

  “You haven’t, Your Grace,” he said pleasantly. “His Grace and I returned an hour ago.”

  “I hope you had a pleasant day together.”

  “His Grace is full of good ideas. I look forward to implementing his vision for Linwood. I believe he’s eager to visit his other estates and see what work needs to be done at them, as well.”

  “His Grace and I are about to take tea. Would you like to join us? I’d love to hear about what you did today and also discover what other properties are in the family.”

  Mr. Woodward looked taken aback. “Are you certain you’d like me to join you? I . . . that is, I never took tea with the previous duke.”

  Laurel smiled. “You are more than welcomed. Come along.”

  She led him upstairs and rang the bell. The maid who answered told her that tea would arrive shortly and Laurel thanked her.

  Since they were alone, she decided to approach Mr. Woodward regarding Anthony’s past.

  “You have been here a good number of years, I’d imagine,” she began.

  “Yes, Your Grace. I came as an assistant steward. My father was a steward at an estate a day’s ride from Linwood and he trained me himself.”

  “Then you rose in position and took over all management of Linwood?”

  “I did. I’ve been most fortunate to serve at Linwood for so long.”

  “You mentioned when we arrived that you recalled my husband as a child.”

  Woodward frowned, clearly uncomfortable with her comment. “I barely remember him as a boy,” he said. “I’m afraid after so long a time, I was trying to curry favor with our new duke. He was only here a short while and then off to school. I really don’t remember much about him at all.”

  He looked away, his fingers slipping under his cravat, pulling nervously at it.

  “Didn’t it concern you when he didn’t return from school during the holidays?” Laurel pressed. “I know boys are sent away to further their education but they do come home to spend time with their families.”

  Woodward looked at her helplessly. “It’s not for me to say, Your Grace.”

  “Woodward,” a deep voice said.

  The manager turned, as did Laurel, and saw the Duke of Linfield standing there.

  “Do you have something to do, Woodward?” he demanded.

  Woodward shot to his feet. “In fact, I do, Your Grace.” He glanced back to Laurel. “Please forgive me, Your Grace. Thank you for your kind invitation to tea but I have a vast amount of work to complete.”

  With that, the older man hurried from the room.

  Her husband didn’t seat himself. Laurel nervously moistened her lips, waiting for his anger to erupt. It didn’t. Instead, it was as if the room turned ice cold.

  “My childhood is of no concern. I am an adult now. The Duke of Linfield. I haven’t been a child in a long time, Laurel. Nor an idealistic man going off to war, thinking he might change the world. I’m afraid you’re stuck with me as I am. I wish the door to the past to remain closed.” He paused. “Do you understand?”

  “Yes, Your Grace,” she said, her heart pounding, more afraid of this cold, aloof Anthony than the distant or sometimes angry one.

  “I’m glad we could come to an understanding. I think it’s time we returned to London. Don’t you agree?”

  She felt as if he’d slapped her. They were supposed to spend the week here, getting to know one another. Except he didn’t want her to know him at all. Or what had happened here between him and his father.

  “Yes, Your Grace.”

  “See that your maid packs for you. We will leave first thing in the morning.”

  Anthony turned and walked away but Laurel wasn’t going to let him do so again. She was tired of him leaving her.

  “Aren’t you going to stay for tea?” she asked.

  He faced her. “No. And I will be out for dinner. I will see you in the carriage tomorrow.”

  With that, her husband abandoned her.

  Again.

  *

  Not a word passed between Laurel and Linfield during the coach ride back to London. She kept her gaze turned out the window, watching the lush, green countryside pass by, determined not to be the first to speak. She wanted to hide all her varying emotions. Her hurt. Disappointment. Anger. Frustration.

  Would the rest of her married life be so up and down?

  She found it exhausting and unsatisfying. Worse, she would have to keep all of this to herself. Her relatives would be curious as to how she and her new husband were getting along. Sharing the truth with them was the last thing she planned to do. The same went for Aunt Constance and Hannah, though it might prove harder to hide the rift with the two women living in the same house with the warring couple.

  The carriage pulled up in front of the Linfield London townhouse. The door opened and her husband climbed out. He handed her down and immediately returned to his seat.

  “I have business to attend to. I will see you tonight.”

  Laurel clamped down on her jaw, not wanting to show how startled she was. With a flick of the reins, their driver took off. Moments later, the second coach pulled into place. Retta and Monkton climbed out. By now, the front door had opened and a footman appeared. She assumed the trunks would be taken care of as she marched into the entry way, cursing silently.

  The housekeeper appeared. “Your Grace.” She sounded startled. “It is good to see you. Allow me to show you to your rooms.”

  Laurel followed the woman upstairs. The bedchamber was large and airy though the furniture looked quite dated and both the wallpaper and carpet were faded.

  “Your dressing room is through that door. All of your clothes that came after the wedding have been placed in your wardrobe.”

  A footman entered, bearing her trunk, Retta on his heels.

  “I see your maid has also arrived.”

  “Yes. Monkton, too,” Laurel said. “His Grace had business to attend to but he will be home for dinner this evening.” She paused and added, “We were eager to continue with the Season, which is why we decided to return early.” She added that to hopefully throw off the woman, not wanting news of her and Linfield’s estrangement to reach the servant’s hall.

  “Very good, Your Grace. Shall I tell Lady Constance and Lady Hannah of your arrival? They are in the drawing room.” The woman smiled. “Entertaining a few of Lady Hannah’s suitors.”

  “I will join them.” She looked to Retta. “Familiarize yourself with everything and then get yourself settled.”

  “Will you be going out tonight, Your Grace?” Retta asked.

  Laurel looked to the housekeeper. “What event takes place tonight?”

  “A musicale at Lord Downley’s.”

  “Yes,” Laurel told Retta. “Choose whatever you wish for me to wear.”

  She left the bedchamber and went down a flight of stairs to the drawing room. Two men in their mid-twenties were present and stood as she entered the room.

  “Laurel!” cried Hannah, rushing to her.

  She embraced her sister-in-law. “It’s good to see you.”

  “We weren’t expecting you so soon,” Aunt Constance said as they joined her and the two guests.

  “I think Linfield worried about his sister while we were in the country.” She turned to the men and Aunt Constance introduced Laurel to them.

  They chatted for a few minutes and then both visitors rose and took their leave. Hannah promised she would see them tonight.

  Once they’d left the room, she asked Laurel, “What did you think? Did either of them appeal to you?”

  Laurel laughed. “I already have a husband, Hannah. The point is, does one appeal to you—or both?”

  All three women laughed and Hannah said, “I do like them both. I’ve met several young men in the short time you and Anthony have been gone.”

  “Then you will have to introduce them to us this evening.”

  “Oh, will you attend Lord and Lady Downley’s event?” Aunt Constance asked. “With Anthony?”

  “Yes. We both plan to be there. I suppose I should write to Lady Downley to see if we can come.”

  “You’re a duchess bringing her duke. Of course, you can attend,” Aunt Constance said. “It would be nice if you let Lady Downley know, however, that you have arrived in town again and would enjoy their musicale.”

  “I will do so and also send word to my family that we are back,” Laurel said.

  “I’m going to decide what to wear this evening,” Hannah said. “I never knew how difficult it was to make a decision about my appearance. Which gown to wear with what gloves. How to style my hair. Whether my slippers should match the gown or provide a contrast to it.”

  Both the young women rose to leave. Laurel allowed Hannah to go through the doorway first and then she heard her name called.

  “Would you stay a moment longer, my dear?” Aunt Constance asked pleasantly.

  “Of course,” she replied and returned to the seat she had occupied, though she didn’t want to. She knew now they were alone that the older woman would have questions. Ones she didn’t have the answers to.

  “How did you find Linwood?” Anthony’s aunt asked casually.

  “I see you are starting with easy questions.”

  “Should I dispense with them? Then I shall.” Aunt Constance took Laurel’s hand. “Why are you back in London so soon?”

  “Honestly? I don’t know. Or at least I don’t know all of it.” Tears welled in her eyes. “I’m not sure Anthony is happy with me.”

  Aunt Constance squeezed Laurel’s hand and then released it. “I beg to differ. Tell me what happened.”

  “I adore the estate. The tenants are good people. The household staff is superb. I felt we were making progress, getting to know one another. There were a few flies in the ointment,” she admitted. “Nothing too serious. Then I mucked it all up by asking about Anthony’s past.”

  “Oh, dear,” Constance murmured.

  “Yes. That is what has driven a wedge between us. Mr. Woodward, Linwood’s estate manager, was one of the few employees who knew Anthony as a child. I know something dreadful occurred between Anthony and his father many years ago. I thought if I knew, it would help me understand him better. Anthony came across us while I quizzed Mr. Woodward.”

  Laurel shuddered. “He was so angry, Aunt Constance. Not a raging anger but a cold, controlled one. So cold that it frightened me. The husband I was getting to know changed before my eyes. I’ll be frank and tell you that the physical side of marriage has shown we are very well suited. Now, though, I’m not sure if he will ever touch me again. He made it clear that his past was to remain closed behind a locked door which only he has the key to unlock.”

  She wiped away the tears that began to fall. “I fear he’s tossed away that key and whatever festers within him will never heal. That was when he said we were returning to London. Anthony has yet to speak to me.”

  “Even on the carriage ride back to town?”

  “Not a word. I’m not sure what to do. I know the kind, caring man I married is buried somewhere inside him. I don’t know how to apologize, though. I’m afraid to bring up the quarrel between us for fear of making things worse.”

  “Then you don’t use words,” the older woman proclaimed. “A kiss is where you start. Show Anthony the passion and tenderness you feel toward him. The wounds you seek to heal are very old ones, Laurel. My boy was horribly scarred by events in his past. Care for him. Love him. In time, he will see he can trust you. Only then will he be able to share what happened to him and allow you to be the balm for his wounds. It’s not my place—or anyone else’s—to share his past with you. It’s for Anthony to do so. When he does, be prepared, for he will be in a world of hurt reliving it as he speaks of it. Until then, do all in your power to care for him and wear him down with love.”