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Beth discreetly rubbed her tired eyes. “Not at all, Your Grace. It’s your first night in a new manor—you’re bound to want things just so. It’s my duty to learn how you like things done.”She hesitated. “Do you look through your entire wardrobe every evening to pick a dress for the next day?”

“No, I cannot say I have ever done that before.” Lydia swallowed a chuckle. “I want to make a good impression, I suppose.”

The maid seemed relieved. “Will you be reading to me every evening? Is that something you did with your former maid?”

“Oh, I should think not.” Lydia offered another apologetic smile, but the maid suddenly looked disappointed.

“Of course, Your Grace. I liked the story, is all.” Beth fixed her cap. “I can’t read, but my ma can. She used to tell us all sorts of tales. That’s Jenny Hen.”

Lydia frowned. “You call your motherJenny Hen?”

“It’s what everyone calls her,” Beth replied with a shy shrug. “She’s the cook here. Made that supper for you. She’ll be eager to meet you, but she’ll likely be baking bread about now. And you ought to be resting, Your Grace.”

Lydia leaped on the opportunity. “Or I could meet her right now? I am not as weary as I thought I was.”

“Your Grace, I—” Beth jumped at the sound of a knock on the adjoining door, while Lydia’s heart lurched. “Ah, I ought to be going, Your Grace.”

The maid hurried for the door and was out into the hallway, closing the door behind her before Lydia could muster a word of protest. There would be no late-night visit to the kitchens, no distraction to keep her downstairs until morning.

Unless…

She dove for the bed, wriggling beneath the coverlets, pulling them up to her chin and squeezing her eyes shut. A second later, the adjoining door opened, and footsteps echoed into the room.

“I know you are not asleep,” William said. “That is, unless you have the ability to fall into slumber within a minute. I heard you and your maid.”

She cursed silently, eking open one eye. “No, but you are disturbing the preamble to my sleep. I cannot be interrupted once the routine begins, or I shall have to start all over again.”

He stood by the side of the bed in a state of undress. His waistcoat and tailcoat were gone, along with his cravat, his shirt untucked and his feet bare. More like the wolf-pirate than the stiff-backed duke she had married.

“That was not so terrible now, was it?” He moved to the end of the bed as she sat up, her charade of slumber rendered useless.

She forced a smile. “I did not have to run, after all. What a waste of a carriage, just sitting there unused.”

His eyes darkened, his hand reaching up to grip the bedpost in a manner that was likely meant to be intimidating.

Lydia rolled her eyes. “It was a joke, Your Grace. Should I have no expectations of humor either?”

“Will,” he replied.

She raised an eyebrow. “WillI have no expectations of humor? I do not think that is correct grammar, Your Grace.”

“You keep calling me ‘Your Grace.’ I am your husband. You should refer to me as ‘Will.’ William is too formal, and there are no other abbreviations that I can abide.”

He did not say it, but he was not asking kindly now either.

She nodded her head. “If that is your preference.” She paused. “What of a pet name? I thought ‘My Darling Weasel’ suited you rather well.”

“Speaking of preference,” he continued, ignoring her as he came back to her side of the bed, “I have been observing you today, and there are some… factors to be addressed if we are to make a success of this marriage.”

Lydia tilted her chin up, annoyed. “I was not aware that I was under examination. If you had warned me, I might have studied ahead of time. How many questions can I expect for this review?”

He leaned across the bed, one powerful arm holding him up as he reached forward. She sat frozen, not knowing what to do or where he intended to touch her. Two fingertips came to rest on her lips, pressing into the soft flesh.

“As sweet as your voice is,” he said, “just listen.”

She nodded slowly.

“You will have the freedom you were promised,” he continued, easing the pressure of his touch, his intense gray eyes holding hers. “The freedom your new title allows. But freedom always has a price.”