Page 86 of Secrets of the Marriage Bed
He broke the seal with his nail, cursing when his own letters, both of them unopened, dropped to the floor. He picked them up and wandered into his study. A quick scan of the note from Lewis’s mother had him grinding his teeth. His first missive had arrived the day after Lewis’s father’s funeral. The same day the man had left the family estate for parts unknown.
He sank into his chair. This was the worst possible news. He wanted to have it out with Luke, but without any evidence, he was handicapped.
He pressed his fingers to his temples. The headaches returned when he was tired. Perhaps he should heed Jaimie’s warnings. Certainly, Julia no longer cared where he went or what happened to him. As he deserved. Indeed, the further he kept from her, the more likely she was to be safe because with Robins out of the picture, he was certain the attacks were primarily aimed at him.
He eyed the rectangular box in the middle of his desk. The hand delivery from a jeweller. He knew exactly what it contained. Rather than open it, he shoved it in the bottom drawer of his writing table.
Wearily he dragged himself up the stairs to change for dinner. Not that there was much point. Julia wouldn’t join him. Since his revelation about Jeffrey, she preferred a tray in her chamber.
If she knew she filled his thoughts for more than half of his waking day and most of his dreams at night, would she feel even a little in charity with him? Likely not.
He hated that she’d turned away from him, but he felt some relief that she knew the truth, even if her hurt did not lessen his determination to do the right thing.
What would he do if she sought solace with another man? His fists clenched at the idea. Marrying her had been utterly selfish. Wrong.
Every day, he fought the urge to seek her out. He’d tried to make himself believe she was no different than all those other women who had merely wanted him for the title and money. That he couldn’t trust her. He tried to hang on to the resentment that had kept him single all these years.
But time after time he found himself picturing her smiles. Remembering how she’d held his head in her lap in that field. Seeing her courage when faced with a murderer and experiencing the fear all over again for her safety. No matter how he wished things were different, wished that he had never met Elise, the past remained set in stone.
Since Robins’s departure there had been no more incidents of laudanum in her drink. He’d had a word with Cook, who ensured no one else put a hand on anything Julia ingested. Only a handful of his most trusted servants, people who had known him since he was a child, were permitted to handle her tray and to guard her night and day.
He’d talked his plan over with Digger privately and she had agreed it was the best way to proceed. Against her better judgement, she’d agreed to say nothing of his worry to Julia. She’d remonstrated, of course. Vigorously. She always did, but in the end she’d given in.
As for the state of their marriage, there was little he could do. There was no marriage. He’d made sure of it by staying away from her.
The gossips among the servants would soon spread the news that the Duke and Duchess were at outs and there were no heirs in the offing.
The hurt he’d caused Julia was a bitter ache in his heart, but hopefully, it would keep her safe from the threat of his brother until he had the proof he needed to face Luke with his crime. Lack of word from Lewis was an unexpected hitch in his plan.
Julia might be safer if he sent her away.
Such a draconian step would end any hope of making a go of what little marriage they had left. He rubbed at his sternum, trying to ease the ache knowing it might be the only answer.
* * *
After breakfast in her chamber, and having ascertained Alistair had left with his steward, Julia descended to the drawing room.
Disconsolately, she stared at her needlework. Another handkerchief for Alistair, to be embroidered with his initials. Was there really any point? But she had to do something to pass the time and the cushions were finished.
It was sad that she and Alistair had arrived at this impasse. Heartbreaking, if she was honest. The few times their paths had crossed these last few days she had the feeling he also was lonely. Perhaps another woman might have reached him. One with more sophistication. Or a less-chequered past. A lump rose in her throat.
And since it was out in the open that he didn’t need a wife, he would no doubt go elsewhere for pleasure. If that happened, she would leave. She swallowed the lump in her throat.
* * *
‘A note has arrived for you, Your Grace,’ Grindle said an hour or so later, offering her a silver salver.
Putting aside her hoop, Julia broke the seal. The note was from Lady Wiltshire. Apparently an emergency meeting of the committee had been called for that afternoon and her presence was required.
At least someone had some faith in her abilities as a duchess. Could she be bothered? She ought to go. It was her duty, after all. Doing something constructive might serve as a distraction from the miseries of her marriage. At least she’d feel useful, since her husband had no use for her at all.
‘Can you have the carriage brought around, please, Grindle?’
‘Most of the staff are off this afternoon, Your Grace. I only have one footman available to go with you. Mr McPherson took one of the horses to the blacksmith, I understand.’
‘One should be enough, surely?’
He looked worried. ‘His Grace asked that two men accompany you at all times.’
