“Gossip,” James murmured.
Thomas’s voice turned faintly sardonic. “Yes. Theton’spreferred religion.”
James’s lip curled. “I do not care about theton.”
Thomas regarded him. “You care about consequence.”
James did not answer at once because it was true.
A duke could survive scandal more easily than a new duchess. Particularly one who had already been made a target by her own household. Society forgave powerful men. It devoured women who did not know how to defend themselves.
He had married Eleanor Barker for utility. He had told her as much.
And yet he could not stomach the thought of her being ruined for a choice he had pushed her into completing.
“Even in a loveless marriage,” Thomas continued, “a duke’s primary duty is to maintain his position. Not because society deserves it, but because the estate requires stability. Influence is a tool. Scandal dulls the blade.”
James’s gaze lifted. “And the new Duchess?”
Thomas’s eyes narrowed slightly, thoughtful. “She is… not fragile.”
“No,” James said, the word almost grudging.
“But she is new,” Thomas added. “And thetonwill be looking for proof that the marriage is as rushed and ill-made as they hope. If you remain in London too long, if you return to your club, if you are seen as detached – ”
“It will be assumed there is discord,” James finished.
“And that she is the cause,” Thomas said.
James’s jaw clenched. The idea of Eleanor being blamed for his choices struck him with an anger that did not fit neatly into any category he preferred.
“I considered taking her to Ashbourne Hall,” James admitted.
Thomas’s brows lifted. “A true bridal tour.”
“Yes,” James said, as though the term tasted unpleasant. “A proper interval. A respectable disappearance. It would silence speculation.”
Thomas nodded slowly. “And it would place you too far from London.”
“Too far from Blackmere Park,” James corrected, though he meant the same thing. “Too far from Roderick. Too far from the investigation.”
Thomas studied him. “And too far from your own office.”
James’s mouth tightened. “Yes.”
Eleanor’s footsteps stopped again.
James’s gaze flicked to the adjoining wall as if he might see through it.
“She is alone,” he said.
Thomas’s voice remained neutral, but his eyes were keen. “Yes, Your Grace.”
“I did not intend – ” James stopped. Corrected himself. “This arrangement was meant to be clean.”
Thomas’s expression did not change. “Arrangements are clean on paper.”
James’s hands flexed again at his sides, as though he could shake off the lingering warmth of her mouth.
