A Duchess in Name

by Amanda Weaver

  “So, as you see,” March said as he concluded his presentation. “If we begin installing the wiring in the house as the plant is being constructed, implementation will happen much faster.”

  “Yes, I see,” Andrew said. “The wiring of the house should happen in tandem with the construction of the plant. Don’t you agree, Victoria?”

  She couldn’t speak for the rage choking her. My house! she wanted to scream. It’s mine! How dare you come now and try to help?

  “We could ride out this afternoon and examine the proposed location for the plant,” March suggested.

  “No, we can’t, because we don’t have any horses here,” Victoria snapped. Wonderful. Now she sounded like a petty killjoy.

  “I’m sure Squire Barstow would be happy to lend you some mounts,” March said.

  “Squire Barstow?”

  “Our nearest neighbor.” Victoria said, breathing deeply to control her rampaging temper. “He’s been quite helpful. He and his wife have had me to dine once or twice.”

  “Well, perhaps we should invite them to dine with us one night in return?”

  Now he was going to start issuing invitations to their neighbors like they were any ordinary happily married couple? She grit her teeth and made no reply.

  “Mr. March,” her husband said. “Perhaps we should purchase some horses of our own. Nothing fancy. A few mounts we can ride for purposes like these.”

  How it galled to hear him settling in, making purchases for the estate. Yes, legally it was his. But her hard work had made it what it was today. It was her heart in every acre of well-tended farmland and every polished floor.

  “Squire Barstow has a solid hunter for sale. Perhaps not the quality of horseflesh you’d find at Tattersall’s, but he’ll do quite nicely as a country mount for you. And, if I may, Your Grace, he’s got a lovely mare that could do well for Her Grace. That is, if she wishes to ride.”

  Andrew turned to her with a wide smile. “Of course she needs a horse. You do wish to ride, don’t you, Victoria? I’m sure you’re a crack horsewoman. You’re so accomplished at everything else.”

  This was always when her anger hit the brick wall of his kindness. Her rage would be easy to maintain if he met it with his own, if they battled it out in public the way she did in her head. But there was no anger on Andrew’s side, not ever. Only a friendly, open generosity, a willingness to learn, a desire to be helpful. How on earth was a person supposed to fight such maddening decency?

  “And we should look into horses for the girls,” he continued. “I’m sure their school has done a slipshod job in teaching them their way around a horse. We’ll have to get them up to speed this summer. I’m sure Emma would love a pony of her own.”

  This was where her fury inevitably crumbled. Of course Emma would love a pony. The girls would love to learn to ride this summer. She wanted that for them as much as he did. And there was her intrinsic conflict. She wanted to oppose him at each turn out of spite, but they wanted all the same things, which made her his unwilling ally. Very unwilling.

  For all his unwelcome participation in things that had formerly been left up to her, he was, in truth, quite helpful. He wanted to work with her, not against her. He might have hurt her badly in the past, but where his sisters and the estate were concerned, his heart was in the right place. It was always in the exact same place hers was. And she didn’t know what to do with that.

  * * *

  “Sir Lindley in the next county over has a fine Welsh pony he might be persuaded to part with for Lady Emma,” March said as he rolled up the plans for the power plant. “I’ll speak with him tomorrow about it.”

  Andrew nodded in agreement, one eye on his wife. She was so terribly angry. But her anger had been thwarted, once again, by his perfect agreement with everything she wanted. Some part of him enjoyed raising her ire this way, watching those bright green eyes flash with temper—seeing her struggle to bite back all the scathing things she wanted to say to him, only to agree with him in the end, because he’d proposed what she’d wanted all along.

  Yes, it was fun, but he was looking forward to the day when they could approach these issues as partners instead of adversaries. He was done being at odds with his wife. Making a place for himself here was too important. It was still hard to know if there was any future for the two of them beyond this uneasy partnership, but now he wanted to find out. Her hostility would be a formidable obstacle, but he was ready for the fight.

  Because the woman he’d come to know these past few weeks, hardworking, generous, loving, gentle—she was worth it. She showed that side of herself to everyone else. Now he wanted her to show it to him and she was absolutely determined not to.

  So far in his time at Briarwood, he’d been content to give her space. He didn’t push her to an intimacy with him she wasn’t ready for. But it had been nearly a month. Victoria was clearly never coming back to him of her own free will. This time, he would have to come to her. It was time to win the heart of the wife he’d very nearly thrown away. He could only hope he wasn’t too late.

  Chapter Fifteen

  “A bird! No, a kite!”

  Emma stopped flapping her arms long enough to glare at Louisa. “A kite? Really?”

  “No talking!” Victoria shouted, delighting in the boisterous energy the girls brought to every evening.

  Emma’s mouth snapped closed as she realized she’d spoken out loud, and she started flapping her arms again.

  “We need another hint, Emma,” Andrew said. He was reclined in the opposite corner of the settee from Victoria, a wide smile on his face as he watched his sister.

  Emma pointed at the huge vase of flowers by the parlor door and flapped her way over to them. She fluttered her fingers over the flowers and then flapped some more.

  “A butterfly!” Victoria cried.

  “Yes!” Emma said, clapping in delight. “Finally! A kite, Louisa? What was I doing that looked like a kite?”

  Louisa was laughing as she waved her hand. “Oh, I don’t know. I was thinking of things that fly and it popped out.”

  “I’d come up with something much better if the answer was ‘kite,’” Emma said stoutly.

  “No doubt you would, Emma,” Andrew said. Victoria looked over at him and her breath caught at the happy, open smile on his face. It had been easy to forget how handsome he was when he was far away in Italy. When he was lounging at the other end of her settee, it was impossible to ignore. He wore his formal black evening clothes for dinner, but that was the only buttoned-up thing about Andrew tonight. As he played charades with his sisters, he was relaxed, kind and laughed easily.

  As he bantered with the girls, his eyes crinkled at the corners and his white teeth flashed. His dark hair, now a bit too long without a valet to see to him, curled slightly over the edge of his starched white shirt. He was still so distractingly handsome. She almost hated him for it.

  Why had he come here to upset her now, when she’d finally accepted her solitary existence? She’d made a content, secure home for herself and now he was disturbing it, and he seemed to be doing it on purpose. Each kind word he uttered seemed calculated to get under her skin, as if he wanted her to let him back in again.

  “Another sherry, Victoria?” His gentle question made her startle and she glanced down into her empty glass to avoid looking at him. She’d drunk that rather in a hurry, hadn’t she? “It’s only a drink, Victoria.” He grinned, lopsided and rakish, and winked. “Go on, I won’t tell.” That smile was a trickle of heat all the way down her spine.

  No, no, no. She would not let him turn his charm on her. It was far too late for that nonsense. She kept her face stony as she passed him her glass.

  “Emma, isn’t Mr. Arbuthnot coming tomorrow?” he asked, referring to the piano teacher they’d found to work with Emma over the summer. />
  “Oh! I’d almost forgotten! I’m so excited. I’m starting Mozart’s Twenty-Fifth Concerto tomorrow.”

  “Perhaps a good night’s sleep beforehand is in order,” he said with a pointed look.

  Louisa’s eyes flickered between Andrew and Victoria. “Emma, Andrew’s right. You should get right to bed. And goodness, I’m rather tired, too. I think I’ll go up. Good night, Andrew.”

  “Sleep well, Louisa,” he said. She leaned over him and kissed his cheek.

  “Good night, Victoria.” Louisa left the room, herding Emma before her.

  Victoria shot to her feet. “I think I’ll go up to bed, as well.”

  Andrew reached out and grasped her hand, stilling her. “Stay a moment. I want to talk to you.”

  The girls’ chatter faded as they made their way upstairs. The room was silent except for the ticking of the mantle clock.

  “They’re lucky they have each other,” she said, to fill the silence. “They depend on each other quite a bit.” The girls seemed like a safe, neutral topic of conversation, if she was going to be forced to talk to him.

  He made a hum of acknowledgment as he stood to refill their glasses. “I’m afraid they’ve had no one else to depend on for quite some time. My parents were failures at...well, being parents, as you’ve seen.”

  “At least they had you and your brother.”

  He smiled over his shoulder as he placed the crystal stopper back in the decanter. “My brother was less interested in the girls than our mother. Sometimes I think he truly forgot he had sisters.”

  He handed her the sherry and sat back down—closer than he was before. Reclining onto the cushions, he stretched his arm across the back of the settee, his hand mere inches from her bare shoulder.

  “They’re very fond of you,” he said.

  “I think they’re happy to have a female to take interest in their lives. I take it your mother...”

  “My mother has the morals of an alley cat where her children are concerned. I know I sound harsh to speak that way of her, but it’s the truth. You know she’s decided to live in the south of France ‘for her health’?”

  She remembered his mother’s surprising announcement before her husband was even buried.

  “My mother is in excellent health. She’s in France with the Earl of Iverson, her lover. He’s only the latest of many, although Ivey seems to be sticking it out longer than most.”

  Why was he telling her all of this? After so much time freezing her out, now he seemed intent on sharing, and all the worst of his family’s secrets, almost as if he was attempting to explain something to her. She kept her voice polite but disinterested. “Did your father know?”

  “She’s always taken great delight in flaunting her lovers. My father had plenty of lovers of his own. They hadn’t lived properly as man and wife in many years. In truth, they hated each other.”

  She cleared her throat and leaned forward to set her untouched sherry on the table, but his hand shot out to close around her wrist. Her breath stalled as he slid his fingers down to cover hers, gently plucking the glass from her hand. He set it down for her, and his own as well, but he didn’t lean back. The scent of his bay rum tickled her nose, and she was close enough to see the faint dark stubble beginning to form on his jaw. Surely, this close to her, he could hear her heart pounding.

  His hand found her wrist again and he traced his way up to her elbow, curling his fingers around her upper arm. She burned everywhere he touched. She should get up and leave. His intentions were clear and the longer she sat here, the more awkward it would become. The moment for decision was past as he slid his hand back into her hair, holding her head gently between his palms. She wanted to push him away and flee, but she couldn’t seem to make herself move, not when he was so close, staring into her eyes this way.

  “Victoria, we’ve had a bad start, you and I.” His thumb caressed her cheekbone and slowly, inexorably, he drew her face closer to his. “I’m not returning to Italy this summer. I’m staying here. And I’d like us to start again. As a real husband and wife.”

  She was stunned into silence, absorbing his words. Staying. Invading. This was her place and he was forcing his way into it, asking her for the impossible.

  The implications of it were still reverberating in her heart when he caught her off guard and kissed her. The shock of it all made her slow to respond, and she didn’t push him away when she should have. She held still long enough to notice how different this was from the other kisses they shared. He wasn’t drunk, there was no anger. This wasn’t a kiss to punish, this was a kiss to seduce—

  And that was when she finally found the wherewithal to move.

  “No, please don’t.” Victoria’s voice was anguished as she tore her mouth from his.

  She pushed his hands away and scrambled off the settee, turning away from him and striding toward the piano, her fingertips pressed to her lips. He said nothing. He’d told her what he wanted. Now it was entirely up to her. His heart thudded painfully in his chest, because he suspected she was about to tell him there was nothing he could give her that she was interested in anymore.

  After several long, silent minutes, she spoke. “What you’re asking for isn’t possible. Not anymore.”

  He had that coming, but it didn’t make it any easier to hear. “I’m staying this time. I promise you.”

  “I wish you wouldn’t,” she said in an agonized whisper.

  “I want us to start again, Victoria—”

  She shook her head wildly. “I can’t do that. You can’t ask it of me.”

  He sat back, letting the ache well up and swamp him. He knew before he spoke that it might be too late, he might have hurt her too much to undo it.

  Victoria turned to face him, chin raised and eyes shining with unshed tears. “I can’t be your wife the way you wish.”

  “I understand.” He wanted to beg, cajole, seduce her until she agreed. But he’d done this damage to her, now he needed to respect her wishes regarding their future. It was the least he could do.

  “But we still need things from each other.”

  He frowned in confusion. “We do?”

  “I’ve only ever wanted one thing from this marriage.”

  “I know. And you have my name and my title. You always will. I would never think to—”

  He might as well have uttered the most horrific heresy imaginable, judging from the look on her face. “You think that’s what I wanted? I’ve never cared about a title.”

  His stomach made a sickening plunge. He’d left off believing her party to the worst of her parents’ offenses, but he’d still believed she’d married him to become a duchess, and her ambitions had brought them together. But she said she didn’t care and never had. And suddenly that made sense with everything he’d seen in her this month. The woman he’d come to know didn’t care a thing for her title.

  “What is it you want?” he managed to spit out.

  “A family,” she said simply. “I’ve always wanted a family. I love your sisters and I’m grateful to be allowed to be a part of this family with them. But I still want my own family. My own children.”

  “I see.”

  “And with two sisters, you need an heir.” Her chin came up as if she was challenging him.

  He wanted to laugh. As if the duke himself was required to produce children. His mother was proof of that, several times over. But of course, such a thing would never occur to Victoria. How had he ever thought her anything like his mother? They couldn’t be more different.

  “What is it you’re proposing?”

  “You may come to my bed at night.” Her voice shook and he could see what this concession was costing her. “I won’t turn you away. We can’t start over again the way you’re proposing, but I’ll do my duty to you.”

>   He didn’t want her to lie there and do her duty. He wanted her passionate and insatiable in his arms. But she was guarded. He’d built the walls she now had around her, and they were high and strong. He couldn’t bring them down with a show of force. However, her proposal might give him a way in just the same. He didn’t have to scale the wall when she’d handed him a key to the gate.

  Fine. He’d come to her bed, if it was the only route open to him. In time, he could turn her passion to his advantage. He’d done it once to break her. This time, he’d do it to win her heart.

  Finally, he found his voice. “All right.”

  Her hands gripped the edge of the piano so hard her knuckles had gone white, and she still wasn’t looking at him.

  “Shall I visit your bedroom tonight?”

  “Tonight? You want to start tonight?”

  He shrugged, as if it made no difference to him either way, even though his body was already coming alive at the thought of it. “Why not?”

  She swallowed hard and licked her lips. He rose from the settee and crossed to her, coming to stand a foot away from her, crowding her slightly. Reaching out, he pried her hand away from the piano, rubbing his thumb across her knuckles. She was trembling.

  “Go upstairs and dismiss your maid. I’ll be up shortly.”

  Her eyes were huge, bright green and shining with fear, as she looked up at him. This was the moment when she might change her mind and lock that door between them forever. If she did, he’d let her. He’d go back to Italy and let her lead her life here in peace. But by God, he hoped she wouldn’t.

  Finally, she nodded, almost imperceptibly, and he suppressed the triumphant howl he wanted to make. Instead, he smiled gently and squeezed her fingers before releasing them.

  “I’ll see you soon.”

  * * *

  Only a small sitting room separated Andrew’s room from Victoria’s, large enough for a small table and two chairs. He lingered there in the semi-dark, waiting for the right moment to enter her room. Her maid seemed to be taking forever to get her out of that bloody beautiful gown. He was half-tempted to interrupt them and strip Victoria out of the dress himself. The idea held a great deal of appeal since he’d been imagining doing it for half the night.