“What of your cousins, your aunt and uncle?” he pressed. “Did they never call upon you?”
“Father was estranged from his brother, which I suppose is why he must have appointed you my guardian. I’ve never met my uncle, my aunt, nor any of my cousins. Father’s family was small—just the two brothers—and my mother’s family smaller still. She was the sole child in her family. You are fortunate indeed to have Lady Deering so close at hand. I always wished I had a sister.”
Her tone was melancholy.
He wanted to take her in his arms, the need so sudden and strong that it took him by surprise. He wanted to reassure her she would never be alone again.
“You do have a sister now,” he said instead. “Pamela is pleased to have a sister as well, having quite despaired of her brother.”
Virtue smiled. “She was rather vexed with this morning’s ceremony.”
“I promised her a new wardrobe to blunt her affronted feelings,” he said wryly.
Pamela dealt with her grief by losing herself in fripperies. He hadn’t understood what drove his sister before. Not until he’d found these odd, overwhelming feelings inside himself for Virtue. He couldn’t imagine what it would be like to lose her as Pamela had her husband. Couldn’t bear to even think upon it.
“She certainly does love shopping,” Virtue said wryly. “I vow, she quite wore me out with all our trips to Bond Street.”
“And my coffers as well.” He shook his head as they reached the end of the avenue and began directing their mounts back in the direction from whence they had come. “You are a part of a slightly larger family now. It is only my sister, my mother, and myself, along with a rather ragtag assortment of cousins, and some scattered aunts and an uncle.”
“Lady Deering has spoken of your mother often, yet I notice you have not,” Virtue said. “Are you not close to her?”
“My mother resents me because I took the place of her favorite sons,” he answered honestly. “Bartholomew was meant to be duke, and Matthew before him, not I, and she’s never allowed me to forget it.”
“I’m sorry,” Virtue said. “How terribly sad for you. I never knew my mother, and I’ve always wondered what she must have been like, whether or not we would have been close.”
Virtue had essentially been an orphan, adrift without a mother and a father who hadn’t been capable of showing her the love she deserved. His heart ached for her. It hardly seemed possible that such a vibrant, bold woman could have sprung from such dismal beginnings. But being Virtue, she had persevered, and was stronger for it.
He watched her as they rode on, toward Hunt House. “I am certain your mother would have loved you very much.”
Because, he’d come to realize, to know Virtue was to love her.
* * *
The Duke of Ridgelywas very charming when he chose to be.
And her new husband was apparently choosing to be very, very charming.Husband.Strange thought, strange word. Stranger still, the feeling accompanying it, her belly all quivery and light, yet the yearning deep inside her heavy and hot.
Virtue stared at the book he had given her the day before, but which she had not unwrapped until now, sitting on the writing desk of her new chamber. The brown paper and twine had come undone to reveal an incredibly rare book that must have cost him an immense price. And he had somehow secured it.
Forher.
He had found the perfect gift, the only one she would want. Her eyes filled with tears, making her vision indistinct. No one had ever given her a gift before, and that it was from Trevor made it mean so much more.
She was afraid to touch the tome, to turn its pages, for it had been printed in the fifteenth century. Once she had made the discovery, the book had gone gently to the writing desk, where it now resided. A treasure from the past he had entrusted to her.
After returning from their ride in the park, they had adjourned to their separate rooms, changed, and joined Lady Deering for tea before Trevor had suggested Virtue might like some time to become acquainted with her new chamber.
Her new chamber which adjoined his.
Lady Deering had pinned her brother with a disapproving look, but had agreed, saying she had some calls to pay amongst friends in the hope she might blunt the sting of the gossip which would undoubtedly follow the news of Trevor and Virtue’s hasty courtship and marriage. Virtue had already inspected the room, feeling quite as if she were an intruder within. The contents had been hastily unpacked that morning by the capable Hunt House domestics.
A knock sounded on the adjoining door, startling her from her thoughts.
Her heart leapt. Surely, it could only be her husband.
“Come,” she called.
The door opened, and there he was, looking unfairly handsome in the buff trousers and crisp shirt and matching waistcoat he had worn for tea, but without the formality of his cravat and coat. He looked effortlessly elegant, as flawless as if he were in a ballroom, and yet there was an underlying air of potent sensuality he exuded that stole her breath.
