Secrets of the Marriage Bed

by Ann Lethbridge

‘You don’t believe me?’

  He leaned back against the pillows. ‘Of course I believe you. What is in it?’

  ‘Herbs, mostly,’ she said. ‘Something for the pain. I will drink some, too, to ease my aching muscles. I haven’t ridden so much for years.’

  The wary look on her husband’s face eased, but still he waited until she had taken more than one sip before he tried his.

  ‘Gads,’ he said, finally putting down his empty cup. ‘I am exhausted. And the d—I beg your pardon, the blasted room is still lurching about like a drunken pig at a party.’

  She giggled. His surprised look caused her to put a muffling hand over her mouth. ‘I beg your pardon. The image took me by surprise.’

  He grinned at her. ‘You don’t suppose it is the tea making us silly.’

  ‘No. I think it is the relief.’ She was extraordinarily relieved that her husband hadn’t died out there in that field. ‘You need to sleep.’

  ‘As do you, I think. Go. Seek your bed.’

  His words were a kindness she had not looked for. The idea was tempting. ‘The doctor said you must not be left alone.’

  ‘Ask one of the footmen or my valet to—’

  She shook her head. ‘I am your wife. It is my responsibility.’

  A smile touched his lips. ‘You are a very dutiful duchess, are you not?’

  ‘As is right, Your Grace.’ After all, he had taken her in out of the goodness of his heart. She kept telling herself that, because having done so, why would he then turn around and try to harm her? If only she could be sure. It seemed odd that only the tea or chocolate she drank alone was ever touched. Except for that one day when he had changed his mind about joining her. He had definitely intended to drink that tea. She was sure. Almost sure.

  If only she could stop her thoughts from going around and around and out and say what was on her mind. ‘Jaimie looked upset when he left.’

  ‘He was angry about the ruin of a good saddle.’

  She blinked. ‘He surely did not blame you?’

  ‘Wear and tear,’ he said, but his voice was harsh.

  ‘You blamed him?’

  ‘Julia, let it go.’

  She inhaled a sharp breath, then let it go with a nod. She would not argue with a man whose head must be aching.

  ‘Let us get you comfortable for sleep, Your Grace. You are sure to feel better in the morning.’

  He gave a long-suffering sigh. ‘So, we are back to your gracing each other to death. You, too, need to rest. You spent last night sitting up with me, did you not?’

  Back to that argument. A smile escaped from her at his tenacity. ‘Do not worry about me. I will lie down on the chaise over there by the window.’

  His bark of laughter came as a surprise. ‘Good try. You will climb up here and lie beside me in comfort.’

  Shock rippled through her. ‘You cannot think to...’

  Pinpricks of light danced in his eyes. ‘Think to what? Importune you? When I am completely at your mercy, drinking all manner of nasty concoctions?’ He huffed out an irritable breath. ‘Hardly. But if you insist, sleep on the chaise...’ He eyed it. ‘Be uncomfortable, for I swear it isn’t long enough to permit you to stretch out.’

  It wasn’t. It was more chair than bed, she had discovered last night. And for some reason he seemed to be insulted. ‘As long as you don’t think I will disturb you, I am more than content to join you on the bed.’

  She picked up his tray and busied herself putting it outside the door and ringing for a servant to collect it, quite undone by his teasing.

  ‘Turn the key in the lock, Julia.’ His voice had hardened. ‘If anyone should come at us, I doubt I could stand, let alone mount any sort of meaningful defence.’

  Her heart stilled. Was that why he wanted her close? ‘Come at us?’

  ‘Put it down to a ducal thing. Pull up the drawbridge, down with the portcullis and all that rot. I do not like feeling helpless.’

  She could understand that, having been helpless more times than she liked to think about. The idea that he wanted to protect her made her feel cherished.

  Having locked the door, she climbed the steps up on to the bed which was more than large enough for two. She lay down on the dark blue counterpane sporting the ducal crest embroidered in gold thread.

  ‘You will be warmer under the covers,’ he commented wryly. ‘And more comfortable out of your gown and stays.’

  Unable to face any sort of battle in her present state of exhaustion, she undid the tapes at the neck and waist of her gown and wriggled out of it. He made short work of her stays when presented with her back. It felt intimate and comfortably familiar. Something she had never expected to feel with this man.

  She dived beneath the covers in her shift and lay on her side. ‘Happy now?’

  He rolled over to face her. ‘Not quite. Lay on your front and I will massage your poor aching back.’

  He’d noticed? ‘Your head,’ she protested.

  ‘I’m not going to be using my head.’ He rose up on one elbow.

  She knew better to argue with a duke, and his strong skilful touch on her lower back was heavenly. She groaned her pleasure. But then the man was a renowned seducer of women.

  ‘Alistair?’

  ‘Relax, love.’

  Love. So casually spoken. It could mean nothing. It could also be a sign of growing affection. A sign he was not the one she should fear. She wanted to believe it. With all her heart.

  Her head warned her to be careful.

  Chapter Twelve

  They were seated at breakfast when an out-of-breath Grindle poked his head into the room. ‘Your Grace, you have a visitor.’

  ‘Who is it?’

  Grindle looked uncomfortable, when he rarely showed any expression at all. ‘Lord Luke, Your Grace. I told him you were not at home as you instructed, but he barged in and said he would wait. I put him in the green drawing room, but he is threatening to come looking for you, if you won’t go to him.’

  ‘It is all right, Grindle,’ Julia said, soothingly. ‘We are finished here. We will go at once.’

  ‘There is no reason for you to see him,’ Alistair said.

  The hurt in her expression was almost more than he could stand. ‘Come if you wish, but he won’t be staying long so there is no need to offer him refreshment.’

  Wide-eyed, she stared at him, then nodded. ‘If that is your wish.’

  He wanted to curse that look of disapproval when they had finally seemed to reach some sort of balance but instead offered his arm and escorted her to the drawing room.

  Alistair froze at the sight of the blond, blue-eyed boy standing beside Luke. What new ploy was this? Since coming in to his title, the only time his family showed up on his doorstep was when they wanted money or to use his influence to their benefit. But bringing the boy? Was this his brother’s way of reminding him of his duty to his heir? ‘Luke. You want to see me?’

  The boy gazed at him warily and then his gaze flicked to his father. His legal father.

  ‘Good to see you, too,’ Luke drawled.

  ‘How kind of you to call, Lord Luke,’ Julia said, stepping forward, holding out her hand. Alistair gritted his teeth at the warm smile she bestowed on his brother and, in his turn, the lad. A punishment, no doubt, for his rudeness. Holding his breath, he waited for Julia to really look. To see.

  ‘Your Grace, it is a pleasure.’ Luke bowed and the boy followed his lead.

  Alistair drank in the sight of the boy, so young, yet trying so hard to be the perfect gentleman. A pang pierced his heart. A longing to know more of the boy. To have some hand in his upbringing. Luke was teaching him well, but Jeffrey did not look particularly happy. Still, it was understandable. What boy wanted to call on curmudgeonl
y uncles on a bright sunny day?

  ‘Please, do sit down,’ Julia said sinking on to the sofa.

  ‘Thank you, Your Grace.’ Luke took a seat on the sofa. The boy hopped up beside him, close enough to touch, as if seeking protection from his wicked ducal uncle. Bitterness rose in Alistair’s gullet.

  ‘Please, won’t you call me Julia since we are family? And, Jeffrey, how are you today?’

  Alistair sat beside her, keeping a careful watch on his brother. Not that he thought the man would pull a pistol and shoot him in broad daylight before a witness. But he wasn’t taking any chances.

  Luke ran a glance over Alistair. ‘I see the reports of you at death’s door were wrong.’

  His brother didn’t look particularly well either. Far too skinny for his large frame. ‘Came to commiserate, did you? Or were you hoping to dance on my grave?’

  Bleakness filled his brother’s face. ‘The latter, naturally.’

  The boy squirmed.

  ‘This is the first day since the accident that Alistair has risen from his bed,’ Julia hastened to intervene, her face mirroring distaste at the awful things being spoken and those not spoken. ‘He received a bad blow to the head.’

  ‘Then I am surprised he suffered any ill effects,’ Luke muttered. ‘Being the most hard-headed individual of my acquaintance.’

  Julia, curse her, smothered a smile.

  He glared at his brother. ‘Tell me, Luke, exactly why are you here? And be quick about it. I am a busy man.’

  ‘I would prefer we discuss it in private.’

  Ice filled Alistair’s veins. ‘Need money, do you?’

  Julia gasped.

  The boy on the sofa cringed and gazed up at Luke, his face pale.

  ‘Jeffrey,’ Julia said, her smile brittle, ‘would you care to show me your pony? We did not have time for proper introductions when we met the other day. I assume you left him at the stables?’

  The look of longing on her face as she gazed at the child was like a blow to the solar plexus. This was all his fault. His guilt. Which was now visited upon a wife he should never have married.

  ‘May I, Papa?’ What a good job his brother was doing with the lad, despite his lack of a wife. He ignored the pang the thought gave him and retained his cold expression with effort.

  ‘You may,’ Luke said, his face as grim as Alistair envisaged his own to be.

  He and Luke rose as Julia led the boy out of the room.

  ‘Well?’ Alistair said.

  Luke glowered. ‘First, I’d appreciate you not insulting me in front of my son.’

  Alistair’s fists clenched. He relaxed them and curled his lip. ‘Your son.’

  Luke flushed. ‘Damn you, Alistair. I did not come here to argue. But when your stable master curses my name at the local watering hole, it is beyond enough.’

  Alistair stared at him, recognising anger and frustration and genuine bewilderment.’

  ‘What did McPherson say?’

  ‘Only that your accident might not have been an accident and there is only one person who will benefit from your death.’ He threw up a hand when Alistair opened his mouth to speak and went to the window to look out. ‘Oh, he didn’t say it in so many words, but the meaning was clear enough. Are you trying to get me dismissed?’

  Alistair pulled in a deep breath at his brother’s genuine distress. ‘I did not put McPherson up to his mutterings, if that is what you are suggesting. But my girth was cut.’

  Luke blanched. ‘It could have happened here.’

  Jaimie could be trying obfuscate the truth in other words.

  ‘It might also have been an accident.’

  Luke looked worried. ‘As you say.’

  ‘I’ll have a word with Jaimie.’

  Luke huffed out a breath. ‘Actually, that was not my sole reason for calling. It is about Mother.’

  Saints preserve him. ‘Your mother.’

  His brother’s lips tightened. ‘From what I gather she’s close to being done up.’

  Money. It was always about money. ‘She called on my wife, uninvited.’

  Luke winced. ‘I know. Your steward blabbed in the Wheatsheaf as how he was going to be escorting the great Duke of Dunstan around the estate the other day. Gossip travels fast in the country.’

  Especially when the Dowager had eyes and ears everywhere. The thought struck a chord of memory he could not quite capture. Curse his knock on the head. ‘I have no plans to renovate the dower house at Sackfield, Luke. She has a perfectly good house in Yorkshire. And I will not have her under my roof.’

  ‘Damnation, Alistair, she wishes to visit her grandsons and I have no room at my cottage. You could—’

  Alistair swung away to look out of the window and to avoid the quiet rage in his brother’s eyes. Was that rage deep enough to lead Luke to kill? ‘I could not. I am on my honeymoon. I do not intend to spend it with your mother. I will have my man of business send her an advance on next quarter’s allowance, but she needs to rein in her expenses.’ Bitterness filled him. ‘What about you? No funds required?’

  Luke muttered a soft curse. ‘I have everything I need.’

  He gritted his teeth and turned to face his brother. ‘Jeffrey does you credit.’

  Luke’s eyes widened. ‘Thank you. I try. I brought him because I thought you should have some knowledge of your nephews.’

  He enclosed himself in ice. Nephews. Even when they were private they continued the pretence. Luke’s way of keeping Alistair at arm’s length from his son. He glared at his half-brother. ‘Because they are my heirs, after yourself, you mean.’

  Luke’s mouth twisted. ‘That is not likely, now you are married.’

  Was that enough of a reason for Luke to consider murder? ‘My man of business tells me you refuse to use the allowance your mother set up for you while she was my guardian.’

  ‘I don’t need your money. Beauworth pays me very well. He at least appreciates my skills.’

  His brother had stewarded the Duchy after his father’s death, when Alistair had been otherwise occupied abroad. Luke’s grasping harridan of a mother had run riot with the estate’s income. It had taken Alistair years to refill the coffers. But that was old news and not worth getting into.

  ‘I believe it is time to rescue my wife.’

  Luke heaved a sigh. ‘Then I bid you good day, Alistair.’

  ‘I will walk you out to the stables.’

  ‘Making sure I don’t steal the silver on my way.’

  The words were spoken loud enough for Alistair to hear and softly enough for him to ignore.

  * * *

  ‘The Duke doesn’t like my father,’ Jeffrey said, feeding another carrot to his pony, Rascal.

  Out of the mouths of babes... ‘Siblings often don’t get along well.’ She hadn’t got along well with her older brothers after her parents had died.

  ‘Father said they used to be good friends when they were my age.’ He reached out and rubbed his pony’s nose. The horse nuzzled his palm, looking for another treat. ‘I’m not to fall out with my brother. Father said. Ever.’

  ‘What is your brother’s name?’

  ‘Daniel. He’s two years younger. His pony is smaller than Rascal. We usually ride out with Papa together, but Danny broke his arm two weeks ago.’

  ‘Oh, I am sorry.’

  ‘He followed me up the ladder. Now he can’t do anything fun.’ His face crumpled.

  ‘And you feel partly to blame.’

  ‘Danny flew the kite up on the roof of the barn and Ben, our man, was too busy mucking out to fetch it down. I should have waited.’

  What a handful it must be with two lively boys and no wife to add a civilising influence. ‘Did you ask him to follow you?’

 
‘I told him to wait at the bottom, but Danny always follows me. I know this.’

  ‘That is what your papa said?’

  He swung on the stall rail, pivoting in a half-circle of drooping misery. ‘I stayed indoors for a week.’

  Relief shot through Julia. There were more severe punishments fathers visited upon their sons. Some visited upon wives by husbands also. ‘To help you remember.’

  He gave her a shy grin. ‘Papa said he was proud of me for taking my punishment like a man.’

  She gave him an encouraging smile. ‘Shall we return to your papa?’

  Jeffrey let go of the rail. ‘I read to Danny every day after my lessons.’ These were the tones of a long-suffering older brother. Had she seemed like such a burden to her own older brothers?

  They headed up the aisle towards the stable entrance. A change of subject was needed. ‘I expect you will be going away to school soon.’ It was normal for boys of his age to board at a public school.

  ‘School is expensive,’ Jeffrey said in lowered tones. ‘I go to the Vicar for lessons twice a week and then study at home. Danny is to start next year.’

  Really. They were nephews of a duke. As head of the family, Alistair should be making sure they had a good education. If the father didn’t want to send his boys away, they should at least have a proper tutor. The reason why Alistair was not helping seemed obvious. Male pride. On both sides. But why?

  Outside, the sunshine dazzled her for a moment. ‘Would you like to go away to school?’

  ‘And leave Papa and Danny?’ Although he tried to hide it there was a touch of longing in his voice. ‘Papa would be sad. More sad.’

  Children understood a great deal more than adults gave them credit for.

  He squinted. ‘Papa!’ He waved.

  Two tall men strode across the courtyard. Alistair was taller and broader than his brother, but not by much. They were both handsome men, in their prime, one fair, one dark, and as unalike as brothers could be, but only the sight of Alistair made her heart give that funny little hop.

  Strangely, Jeffrey was more like his uncle than his father.

  A groom emerged from the stable with their visitors’ horses in hand.