Page 24 of His Mad Duchess
“My turn,” she said. “Rule three.”
He cocked a brow. “There’s a third?”
“There is now,” she said, turning to look at him fully. Her voice didn’t shake. “There will be no heir.”
Sebastian’s eyes narrowed just a touch. “No heir.”
She nodded once. “We will not share a bed or a room or anything that might hint at an heir. Not now. Not ever. I don’t care what polite society expects.”
He almost smiled, but the edge of it died on his lips. “I hadn’t planned otherwise.”
Margaret turned back to the window. “Men like you change their minds when it suits them. Better to have it spoken.”
He leaned forward slightly, his hands clasped. For a second, she thought he might actually smile, but his eyes stayed too sharp for that.
“You think I’m so easily tempted?”
“I think you’re a man.” Her eyes met his reflection in the glass. “That’s enough.”
A beat of silence, filled only by the soft creak of leather and the roll of wheels on gravel.
“You’ve nothing to fear from me,” Sebastian said at last.
She shrugged. “I’m not afraid. I’m careful.”
His mouth curved, just barely. “A careful wife. How novel. You’re full of surprises.”
Margaret breathed out through her teeth, tasting the leather and the cold air. “And you’re painfully predictable.”
He blinked once, almost surprised. Then he leaned back, stretching one leg out as if he owned the whole carriage, the road, and the sky beyond it.
“Is that all, then? Three rules to keep you safe from my terrible charms?”
Margaret shifted, letting her skirts rustle as she crossed her ankles. “Well, since we’re collecting rules?—”
He lifted an eyebrow. “There’s more?”
“There’s always more. It’s for my peace of mind,” she said, tone syrup-sweet. “Rule four. For the short time we share a roof, you’ll keep your… habits elsewhere.”
His brow furrowed. “Habits.”
“No actresses at the back door,” she said. “No widows lurking in the garden. No fresh gossip for the staff to trail through my rooms by morning.”
His eyes widened just enough to amuse her. “Jealous already, Duchess?”
Margaret sighed. “Hardly. I’m exhausted. I’ve had ten lifetimes of gossip. If they must whisper about me, I’d rather they run out of breath before they get to you.”
He stared at her a beat longer than was proper. She met it, steady, unflinching. Then he dipped his head once, as if granting her an audience with his better nature.
“Very well,” Sebastian said. “I’ll be good. For two months.”
Margaret leaned back, letting the seat jolt her with the road. She tipped her chin, letting the window’s chill kiss her temple. “Try not to sprain anything heroic.”
Sebastian’s mouth twitched; he didn’t bother replying, just shifted his gaze to the blurred hedgerows outside, boots braced against the floor.
For a moment, the carriage settled into something almost like peace. Just the steady thrum of wheels, the soft squeak of leather, the hush of rain tapping glass. Margaret flexed her fingers, testing how much calm she could hold.
Margaret rolled her wrist, feeling the soft rub of kid leather. She lifted her brows just enough to prod him.
