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At her words, he chuckled, and the sound came out husky, raising goosebumps all over her arms, so that she could not help but shiver. She hoped he had not noticed that.

“And if I am?” she said. “With child, eventually?”

“Then we will have fulfilled our mutual obligations,” he said. “We will remain under the same roof, for Eloise’s sake and for the child’s. But we will lead, in the main, separate lives.”

He said it without flinching. He had clearly thought this through, very carefully, in some earlier and emptier hour, and was presenting the conclusion now with the calm of a man delivering terms he considered sensible.

She turned her head slightly toward the fire. Outside, the rain had not let up.

They were completely favorable terms, far better than any her father could have agreed to with Penhurst. She especially loved them because they were tailored to her comfort. It was far more than she would have ever gotten at the hands of that old lecher. Being away from her father was also a very good bonus.

“I understand,” she said.

“Then we are in agreement,” Adam said.

“On all four points.” She met his eyes. “On the subject of Eloise,” she continued, “I would be very glad to help care for her. I’m already fond of her.” Then she took in a breath. “She asked me at dinner tonight whether I knew her mother.”

He stilled visibly.

“She told me,” Juliet said, “that you discourage the subject.”

“I do.” His voice had flattened out. He did not elaborate.

“She is seven years old,” Juliet insisted. “I think she should be given the chance to⁠—”

“With all due respect, Duchess,” he cut her off, and she blinked at him. “You are already overstepping your bounds. We did not marry for love or anything else, and you have no right to pry about Elo⁠—”

Juliet frowned. “It is precisely because of Eloise that I am⁠—”

“Not in this matter,” he said sharply, stepping even closer so she had to crane her neck up to look at him.

Her breath caught in her throat at his proximity, and the way his body heat seemed to scorch her.

He was truly an exquisite man… if he were not so frustrating.

“Fine. Then come to dinner tomorrow evening,” she said, and he narrowed his eyes at her. “Eloise would very much like that.”

The fire had burned low enough now that the room’s shadows had crept in at the edges, and Adam’s face was half in darkness. But Juliet did not back down, nor did she look away first.

“Very well. I will come. For Eloise’s sake,” he relented.

“Good.” She turned on her heel and marched toward the door. “Goodnight, Your Grace.”

“Goodnight, wife,” he grunted back.

Mary had left the fire high in the east room, and Juliet’s nightgown lay warming across the chair beside it. The room was quiet except for the rain on the glass and the low, even ticking of the clock above the mantle.

Juliet sat at the dressing table and unpinned her hair. She watched her own hands in the glass: steady, methodical, each pin placed on the tray in a small row.

She was good at this. At keeping her hands busy while the rest of her worked through something in silence.

We will lead separate lives.

How was she supposed to share a home, a name, and a bed with a man who had already retreated behind his own walls of duty and protection?

She sighed. Ravenlocke was far better than Penhurst; that much was true. She had to come to terms with this life now.

She set the last pin down.