brothel. It had been one of the most erotic experiences of his life. He quelled his body’s clamour for more of the same. Those clamours were one of the reasons he’d forgotten his duty and offered her marriage.
The thought of a similar encounter almost changed his mind. Beyond her, inside the room, her dresser hovered, trying to look busy. It would be easy enough to turf the woman out and have his way with his wife.
Temptation beat hard in his blood. Again. He would not allow it to control his decisions.
‘You have been ill,’ he said with a smile he hoped would temper his refusal. ‘We have a long journey on the morrow. You need your rest.’
Her expression eased. Somewhat. Though regret figured largely in her eyes. Along with physical weariness. It was true what he had said earlier; her expressions made her an open book. Or at least, so it seemed. He also was enduring a certain amount of physical regret.
She passed him by and turned in the doorway. ‘Thank you for a pleasant dinner. I—I will see you in the morning.’
‘Indeed. An early start will ensure a timely arrival.’ He took her hand and pressed it to his lips. ‘I am looking forward to showing you around Sackfield.’
He was, he realised with surprise. He had never brought any of his women there, but he would enjoy showing his home to Julia.
He bowed and closed the door firmly, before he changed his mind about leaving.
* * *
The next day proved fine and clear. Dressed and seated at the dressing table, Julia munched on a piece of dry toast while Robins worked on her hair. Her stomach felt much better this morning, but she had asked Robins to bring up a breakfast tray after hearing that His Grace had already breakfasted and had gone out to the stables.
Would he keep his promise to join her in the carriage? She hugged the warmth that thought engendered deep inside. While she might have preferred to ride a horse with him rather than spend another day cooped up, undertaking such a long journey on horseback would be foolish in the extreme.
Robins worked another pin into her hair. She forced herself not to wince. Or complain. One had to suffer if one wished to be fashionable.
‘What about your chocolate, Your Grace?’ Robins enquired around a hairpin held in her lips. ‘It will be cold if you do not drink it soon.’
Julia bit back her impatience. The woman was being kind. ‘I should have asked for tea. I think it might sit better on my stomach.’
Robins frowned. ‘Would you like me to ring for tea, Your Grace?’
The door opened and Alistair stepped in. He was not avoiding her then, as a little niggling doubt had suggested. Not regretting the new accord that had reigned the previous evening, despite his rejection of her less-than-veiled offer to join her in bed. Afterwards, she had worried he might have thought her too bold for a respectable duchess.
And he’d had the right of it. She had been exhausted, despite her earlier nap. She’d slept so soundly, Robins had been required to shake her awake. Most unusual.
‘Are you ready?’ he asked. Dressed in his outer raiment and holding his gloves in one hand, he looked handsome and noble and thoroughly kissable. She swallowed her surprise at the unruly thought.
Stemming the waywardness, Julia glanced at Robins. ‘Almost.’
‘The coach will be at the door in ten minutes.’
Robins huffed out a breath, but even she did not dare gainsay the Duke.
‘Ten minutes it is,’ Julia said, smiling, feeling as if she had won a minor skirmish and could be ready for anything.
‘Good.’ He glanced at the triangle of toast in her hand and over at the tray on the nightstand. ‘You haven’t eaten much.’
Robins shot her an I-told-you-so look.
‘I will finish the rest when my hair is done.’ What she really wanted to know was if he truly intended to travel with her today, but she didn’t want to risk seeming overanxious.
‘Good.’ He nodded his approbation.
The moment he left, Robins brought the tray from the bedside table to the dressing table. ‘Please, Your Grace, finish your breakfast. It will not take me a minute to help you with your bonnet and pelisse, but who knows when you may have a chance to eat next?’ She sounded almost desperate.
Ashamed of her unkindness when the woman was trying to help, Julia downed the chocolate and finished the rest of her toast, slathered with butter.
Robins immediately sprang into action with bonnet, pelisse, gloves, and finally held out a shawl.
‘Do I really need a shawl?’ Julia questioned. ‘It is June, after all.’
‘There is a cool wind today, Your Grace. If you find you do not require it in the carriage, you may of course put it to one side, but shawls are de rigueur at the moment, you know.’
Julia swallowed a sigh. ‘Very well. It seems I am ready. I will see you at Sackfield Hall.’ Even if Alistair changed his mind about joining her, it seemed she had decided not to invite Robins’s company for the rest of the journey.
The woman dipped a curtsy as she passed out of the door. ‘I will come to you as soon as they have fetched in your trunk, Your Grace.’
On her way downstairs, a surge of dizziness took Julia by surprise. Oh, dear, it seemed Robins had been right about her needing sustenance. Hopefully it would pass in a moment or two, now she had eaten.
The carriage was waiting outside the front door, Thor was tied to the back. Her heart gave a little hop of joy. All at once the prospect of the journey became a whole lot more pleasant.
She glanced around for Alistair. He was in deep conversation with Mr Lewis, beside the coach carrying the luggage and the servants. Mr Lewis glanced her way, a frown on his face, then nodded at something Alistair said to him.
Were they talking about her? Why?
One of the footmen opened the door and let down the steps. ‘Thank you, Matthew,’ she said as he handed her in. ‘Mrs Robins is waiting with my trunk.’
‘I’ll go up right away, Your Grace.’ He touched his forelock and strode around the corner, where the servants’ stairs were located. Such a nice young man. Intelligent, too. He knew exactly what to do.
So Alistair really was going to travel with her in the coach. Desire fluttered low in her belly at the thought of several hours in her husband’s company. She settled herself in one corner and folded her hands in her lap, trying to look as if her heart wasn’t ready to leap from her chest and to keep her smile on the inside. A man as reserved as her husband would not appreciate a wife behaving like a besotted schoolgirl.
While she waited, her trunk arrived carried easily on Matthew’s shoulder accompanied by a stream of instructions from Mrs Robins as if she suspected the young man of either preparing to toss his burden to the ground, or to open it and rifle through its contents.
Julia grinned to herself as she realised Matthew had
