“Or its opposite,” the Duchess said softly. “My own husband, too, hid his heart behind his brash manner.”
“I do not think my husband has a heart.”
“That is not what Miss Li tells me, nor any whore in London.”
“And do you often speak to London’s whores?” Elizabeth forgot herself.
The Duchess laughed. “Oh, Lizzie, I have—never mind. This much I can tell you of your husband: He is a good man in some way, else my Roland would not consider him his friend. My husband never, ever wished to become Duke. He fought in vain to escape his birthright. Your husband, in contrast, has only ever wished to be a duke, yet never can, being but a duke’s illegitimate firstborn.”
Milton’s father was no mere lord, he was a duke!Shock sank in.
“Both yearn for what they cannot have and forget, constantly, what they do have. Foolishly, they take their frustrations out on those they trust will hurt them least—and who deserve their wrath least too. None of which makes sense, but which is why, Elizabeth, I counsel patience in your marriage. Embrace thetenderness your husband grants and guard your soul against his need to control. But do not, my dear, give up on him entirely. Not until you’ve uncovered what drives the hurt he nurses.” The Duchess gripped her belly as if she’d felt a kick. “You must unearth the man behind the baron.”
Elizabeth pondered her Grace’s words. Why was the Duchess’s husband, a bona fide duke, friends withherhusband, by-blow of some other duke? And which blasted duke? Or were the two half-brothers? More importantly, why did she feel like she was being punished for grievances Milton held which had nothing to do with her own family?
An image of her husband’s scar-pocked flesh flashed through her head. Harm lay at the heart of Milton’s hurt. It must, else he’d not shy so from her touch.
“Elizabeth.” The Duchess interrupted her thoughts. “My cousin’s coming out ball is this weekend, and it is time Baron of Milton and his new bride were seen in society. I’ll ensure formal invitations get sent so both you and your sister may attend. It will be awkward, no doubt, but it’s best you?—”
“Where is she?”A voice boomed from the hall. “I know damn well she’s here. Wellesley!” the voice shouted. “If you are harboring my wife, by God I’ll?—”
A second, lowered voice was heard to soothe the first.
The Duchess sighed. “Did you not tell your husband you planned to call on me today?”
Elizabeth shook her head.
“Well then, best get this over with.”
Elizabeth knew she had but a minute to thank her new friend. “Your Grace, I?—”
“Charles, Lizzie, please,” the Duchess insisted. “You can ‘Your Grace’ me all you like at my cousin’s ball, but in private I?—”
“I am grateful for your counsel, Charles.” She squeezed the Duchess’s hand in her own. “I shall take your advice to heart.”
And in Milton strode, the Duke of Allendale close at his heels. “Elizabeth, we are leaving.Now.” Her husband’s ice-blue eyes were storm clouds in the making.
“Of course.” She curtsied, murmuring, “Your Grace” to both the Duchess and Duke, before she followed her husband out and into his phaeton.
Milton sat stiff as a board beside Elizabeth, his thigh burning taut against her leg. She was both afraid and aroused—a state by now familiar. He’d hitched his mount to the back of the phaeton and kept the vehicle’s gelding at a very brisk trot.
She steeled herself for punishment.
“You have disappointed me greatly, wife.”
She worried her lip. “I did not think I’d broken any edicts by accepting the Duchess’s invitation, sir. After all,” she wagered, “to refuse would offend the Duchy, which I would never dream of doing, given your friendship with the Duke.”
He looked like he wished to wring her neck. “You step on thin ice, Elizabeth.Mostthin.”
“Are you angry that I drove your phaeton?” As usual, her own temper rose in response to his. “I thought you wished it paraded about town.”
A growl emanated from deep within his throat, yet Elizabeth could not seem to stop. He was being utterly unreasonable; her visit was entirely within normal social bounds.
“Or are you angry I left your bed this morning to breakfast alone in my room? I did so out of respect for your mood, sir, presuming you did not wish to?—”
Milton shoved his tongue down her throat so fast she fell breathlessly silent. When he was done ravishing her mouth—not once breaking the horse’s trot—he savagely hissed in her ear, “Shut. Up.”
Elizabeth kept her mouth closed for the remainder of their drive back. Yet the moment they alighted from the phaeton, he marched her straight into his office, a room she’d yet to see. He locked the door behind them, and she feared at once he’d be a brute.
