“That sounds sensible enough.” He inclined his head, a faint smile touching his lips. “Now we have what? Four rules in total?”
“Five, perhaps.”
He hummed. “An orderly marriage. I should’ve guessed you’d keep count.”
“It prevents chaos,” she returned lightly, though her lips quirked up.
Silence settled over them again, but it no longer felt brittle. The wheels rumbled beneath them, and the air seemed to lighten.
Beatrice leaned her head back against her seat, watching the passing scenery blur into muted gold. For the first time since the wedding, the knot in her chest loosened. Edward glanced at her briefly, then out the window.
Neither spoke for a while.
CHAPTER 6
After two days of travel with one overnight stop at a respectable coaching inn, the carriage rolled to a stop before the great house at Bath, a stately spread of pale honeyed stone and manicured lawns that sloped gently toward the crescent road.
A line of servants stood in precise formation before the steps, livery immaculate, features schooled in polite curiosity.
Everything around her felt meticulously arranged, the kind of ordered luxury she appreciated.
Beatrice’s neck ached from the journey, her nerves from everything else. The footman opened the door, and Edward stepped out first, straightening his coat as though shrugging on a familiar mask. He turned back to offer his hand.
She hesitated only a moment before taking it. His fingers were warm and steady around hers. The baby stirred softly in thebasket at her feet. The housekeeper stepped forward and lifted the basket, carrying the baby into the house.
“Welcome to Wrexford Hall,” he said, his tone neutral, almost brisk. “It’s less ostentatious than the properties in London, but it serves.”
“I’m not difficult to please,” she replied, gathering her skirts as she stepped down. “Only tired.”
“I sent word ahead,” he added. “Your rooms have been prepared, and the servants have been briefed.”
“Efficient of you,” she murmured as she stepped through the great doors.
The drawing room was bright and elegantly furnished, sunlight glinting off polished wood and pale drapery. Beatrice stood just inside the doorway, taking in the quiet precision of a house that ran like clockwork. Of course it did. Her husband looked like one who ran his house efficiently.
Edward shrugged off his coat and began speaking briskly. “I trust my letter arrived in time,” he said, glancing toward the butler, who bowed deeply. “The Duchess will take the east rooms. A wet nurse has been engaged from the Crescent, and the nursery?—”
“The nursery,” Beatrice cut in, her tone light but firm, “will be near my chambers.”
The servants hesitated, looking between them.
His gaze held hers a moment too long, something unreadable behind the glint of humor. Then, with a short, ironic bow, he said softly, “As you wish, Duchess.”
He turned to the servants.
“You heard her,” he spoke crisply. “The nursery will adjoin Her Grace’s rooms. Ensure that everything is prepared before evening.”
The servants scurried away.
Edward inclined his head, one eyebrow arched. “I see,” he said mildly, though the faint twitch at the corner of his mouth betrayed his amusement. “You’re already revising the household arrangements?”
“If we’re to appear as a proper couple, we must at least behave as one,” she replied, lifting her chin. “I am the Duchess, after all. I believe that gives me a say in household matters.”
Beatrice stepped back into the entrance hall with Edward right behind her.
For a moment, the vast hall was quiet save for the soft crackle of the fire.
Beatrice glanced toward the staircase, then back at him. “You had everything arranged in advance,” she remarked quietly. “You think of everything.”
