Chapter seven
Robert’s eyes stubbornly wishedto remain closed. He could already tell by the red glow behind his lids that the day had begun without him. Swinging his legs over the side of the bed, he propped his elbows on his knees and attempted to rub the sleep from his face. For a moment, temptation called to him to shove his face back into his pillow and sleep for a few more hours.
And then he remembered.
Yesterday, he had married Miss Morgan.
The jolt of realization woke him fully, shooting him to his feet. He walked to the bellpull to call for his valet as he kept scrubbing his face. He didn’t wish to be late for breakfast and raise suspicion. Miss Morgan would be blissfully unaware that he’d had a late night. For all she knew, he was a late riser.
Though Louisa might have questions herself. He had paced his room last night, sure he was going to form a rut in the floor. His thoughts had swung from one to the next. Did she expect him to come to her room? Had their contractual agreement freed them from physical expectations of each other? He had been about togo mad until the small note slipped beneath his bedroom door, giving him the perfect excuse to leave and not worry about what his wife’s expectations might be of him on their wedding night.
His hand stopped over his face. Would she have thought to come to his door last night when he failed to appear at hers? His eyes, peering through the gap between his fingers, strayed to their adjoining door. No. That was most unlikely.
His valet slipped into his room, going about his tasks silently. As young Norman yanked and pulled Robert’s clothing into order, Robert felt his mask fall into place. No longer was he Robert, the man pacing his room with insecure questions, but the Duke of Boroux, who held his shoulders back and kept his face devoid of anything.
If they do not know your weaknesses, they cannot exploit them. If you do not feel, their words will not hurt you.
Now, it was the facade he wore out of the bounds of his room. Keeping his face clear. Not letting people into his inner circle. Holding everyone at arm’s length. And, for the most part, it had served him well.
Robert winced as Norman pulled his waistcoat snugly against his ribs, buttoning it nimbly from years of practice.
“I’m sorry, Your Grace. I am doing my best to be careful.”
“No worries, Norman.” Robert gently touched his side. “It is only a bit tender.”
The young man tentatively glanced up and nodded, but he didn’t speak again as he finished his work.
Robert was about to head downstairs, but he felt a sudden need to check his appearance in the looking glass. He gave himself a quick once-over, not noticing anything out of place.
“Norman, does this jacket suit me?”
“Excuse me, Your Grace?” Norman’s eyes rounded at the unexpected question. Rarely did Robert engage in such personal conversation with him.
“Never mind,” Robert groaned. “I am being ridiculous.”
“You have a very fine wardrobe. Anything you wear will likely suit you.”
“Of course. Be on your way, Norman.” Robert waved his hand. “I will not need your services anymore this morning.”
“Very well, Your Grace.” He bowed and scurried from the room as if he desperately wished to avoid further questions from his employer.
Robert shook his head before taking determined steps toward his door. He would not become a silly fop just because he was now married and happened to find his wife attractive and witty, and she seemed comfortable in her own skin—whatever the deuce that meant.
To love and to cherish.
The vows kept pestering him, imprinting on his mind. And no matter what Robert did, he could not shake them.
With my body, I thee worship.
Robert’s feet hit the stairs in a one-two rhythm until he reached the ground floor of the house. He would have to leave that mystery for another day. As for now, he was about to have breakfast with his new wife.
He almost couldn’t breathe.
Robert stopped, closed his eyes, and willed himself to gather his wits. Yes, he had found Miss Morgan intriguing before he had offered for her. Yes, he had singled her out as the woman he wished to spend his days with. But that information did not need to be known beyond anyone but himself. And before he could present himself to her this morning, he needed to get his mask firmly in place. But the vows . . . he hadvowedthose things in front of Louisa and God.
“Good morning,” a feminine voice called to him from the archway.
Robert’s eyes flew open, heat creeping up his neck. He quickly settled his gaze, taking a breath to diminish his color.
