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“I have a lot of work on my hands, Duchess. Work that I’ve fallen behind on because of our wedding,” he said, gesturing toward the desk with two fingers.

“So I see,” Juliet said pleasantly, taking in the room again: the papers, the dying fire, the glass he had apparently not looked at in some time, given the ring it had left on the ledger beneath it.

“I won’t keep you long,” she continued. “I came to ask you to dine with us tomorrow evening.”

Adam rose. He did not come around the desk at once but stood behind it, both hands resting on the edge, and just…stared at her. His gaze moved over her with a thoroughness that set a fire between her legs and utterly surprised her. Unlike the chills that crawled down her spine at Penhurst’s gaze, being the center of Ravenlocke’s regard made her start to feel a little warm.

Then, he came around to the front.

He stopped perhaps a mere foot from her, close enough that she was very aware of how tall he was, and of the fact that he was looking at her directly.

“Since you are here,” he said, “and since we have not yet had the opportunity to discuss it with any proper order, this is as good a time as any to set out the terms of our arrangement.”

Juliet turned to face him. “I’m listening.”

He stood where he was, arms folded now—the candlelight catching the line of his jaw and the breadth of his shoulders, which did nothing whatsoever to make concentrating easier.

“First, Eloise is my first concern in all things. Her safety, her education, her well-being. You are to assist in her care, but if you have a disagreement with any decision I have made regarding her, you will come to me directly. She is not to be unsettled by conflicting direction.”

“Of course,” Juliet said. That was a rather solid point. His heart was certainly in the right place when it came to his daughter.

“Second, you are my duchess. This household has not had one for several years. I expect you to take charge of the domestic accounts, correspondence, and callers when I am otherwise engaged. Mrs. Priscilla will help you find your footing.”

Again, Juliet saw no reason to pick at it. “I have no objection to that.”

“Third, unless the matter concerns Eloise or the estate, I would ask that you do not seek me out.”

Of course, she should have seen that one coming. Of course he would want nothing to do with her at all. This was merely a marriage of convenience, after all. In fact, one could say they both agreed to it under duress: she through pressure from her father, and he through pressure from her. She didn’t think she had any right to disagree with that term.

Still, a hidden part within her chest went heavy with disappointment.

Juliet kept her expression composed. “Very well. Unless it concerns Eloise or the estate,” she repeated.

“I find I work best with some degree of order,” he said, “and I would like to maintain it.”

“Naturally,” Juliet agreed.

His eyes moved over her face, just briefly. “Fourth… When we have had time to adjust to this arrangement, we will try for an heir.”

A shiver went down her spine. Indeed, men of the peerage needed heirs to pass down their titles. Surely a duke like her husband wanted a son. But the way he spoke about this… It sounded so distant, so removed.

The fire crackled, and Juliet tried to hide her frown. “When would you expect that adjustment to be complete?” she asked.

“That remains to be determined.” He was watching her carefully now, his gaze so intense she felt as though he could light her on fire. “I won’t have you think this house is a cage, Duchess. When the time is right, I will summon you…” He paused, his eyes flicking to hers and holding, “to perform your wifely duties.”

Juliet’s breath caught in her throat, heat immediately flaring across both cheeks to warm down her neck.

“Oh. I—I see.” She cleared her throat once, now fidgeting with the hem of her gown. “And…after?” she asked.

His eyes stayed on hers. “We will wait.” He didn’t sound the least bit embarrassed. “To determine whether you are with child.”

“And if a single occasion proves insufficient?”

“If that is the case…” Again, he paused, but Juliet could already hear what he was about to say, “we try again. As many times as is necessary.”

Suddenly, the room became too warm. Juliet’s eyes roamed over him, at the cravat hanging loose at his throat, his hand resting in that unhurried way against the edge of the desk, the strong cords of his throat cast in beautiful bronze by the flickering fire.

“How…” Her voice came out cracked, and she cleared her throat, albeit after catching the way his mouth curled upward on one corner. “How terribly efficient of you.”