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That subject could qualify as “mythological,” which was more highly regarded than simple floral arrangements.

“The servants have migrated to your camp,” Dominic said. “This morning Flitwick came damn close to giving me some sort of paternal advice, which would have had him fired on the spot.”

“You cannot fire Flitwick!”

“Why not? You plan to fire Nanny Bracknell.”

Torie choked back a retort. Dominic’s face was etched with lines of exhaustion and savage tension, so she wasn’t the only one who’d had a hard day. A rotten wedding day.

“Would you like a drink?” he asked.

She swallowed hard, trying to keep pent-up tears from falling. “Yes, thank you.”

Dominic pulled a flask from the pocket of his dressing gown. “Your father handed it to me before the wedding. He did the same thing before telling me of Leonora’s flight, so I decided he was boozing me up before you jilted me at the altar. Making his daughters two for two.” He poured golden liquor into her water glass. “I was certain that you planned to jilt me, to be honest, but I owed it to you to show up and let you do it.”

She frowned, trying to make sense of what he was saying. “I suppose I could have run away last night with the Duke of Queensberry, as Leonora did with Lord Bufford.”

“No, in fact you could not.” He handed her the glass and sat down again at her dressing table.

“You couldn’t have stopped me.” At his silence, Torie sat bolt upright. “Dom, what did you do?”

He regarded her with a mutinous expression. “I would have done anything to win you. To keep you.”

Her eyes widened. “He isn’t in the river, is he?”

Dominic cocked an eyebrow. “You think me capable of murdering an innocent man? Well, he did have designs on my betrothed, but you were fair game. If he tries wooing my wife, he might end up in the Thames.”

“I think you are far too used to getting your own way,” she snapped.

“I paid off his tailor’s bill, in return for which he has been enjoying a prolonged visit to Bath,” Dominic said without a flicker of remorse.

Torie swallowed hard. “The duke agreed to that?”

“There was no coercion involved, if that’s what you mean.” His eyes softened. “Queensberry is genuinely infatuated with you, Torie, but he was at that performance of Romeo and Juliet. He watched us kiss. I offered him an escape from the pity he was being served at his club. I don’t blame him for taking it.”

“I blame him! And I blame you, too! How dare you move us around like chess pieces?”

“I can’t help being the sort of man who plans ahead,” he said coolly. “I didn’t want to make it easy if you lost your nerve. I’m aware that Bufford was escorting Leonora hither and yon in the weeks before she ran off with him.”

Torie put the glass on her bedside table and went back to pleating her sheet. Humiliation was burning down her spine. Her husband had essentially paid off the man whom she might have married in his stead. “How much?” she asked.

“Pardon me?”

“How much did it cost to send the duke to Bath?”

Silence, then: “Are you sure you want to know?”

“Oh, definitely. A woman should always know her value, don’t you think? We’re trained to evaluate each other by our dowries, but I have been startled to learn that unreported rates are so significant.”

“The duke owed his tailor three thousand,” Dominic said. “He complained that his pink embroidered coat alone cost eight hundred guineas. Sewn with glass diamonds, apparently.”

“Charming,” Torie said, keeping her voice steady. “You did this before the Vauxhall incident? In other words, while we were still getting along?”

She stole a glance at Dominic from under her lashes.

He was watching her steadily. “You were having second thoughts before I went to Vauxhall.”

True enough.