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“I don’t much… don’t much like people, you know. I find social situations difficult. Society has always been a chore to me. But when I locked myself up in my home, that didn’t make me feel whole, either. I can’t help but feel that with somebody beside me, somebody I love and trust, things might be different.” He met her eyes from across the dark carriage. “Somebody like you.”

She held his gaze for a long moment, then shifted to sit beside him. Tentatively, as if he might pull away, she took his hand.

“Whatever lies ahead,” she said carefully, “we’ll overcome it together. If you let me, that is.”

He held her gaze for a long moment, his eyes glittering in the moonlight. Gently, so gently, he lifted his hand and curled it around the back of her neck, pulling her forward to rest his forehead against hers.

“If I let you? I’d beg you to do just that. I am in love with you, my dear Duchess.”

The smile reappeared on her face. Her hand fluttered up to rest on his shoulder, and he could have sworn that he could feel the warmth of her palm through the fabric of his jacket.

“And perhaps I might see myself on the way to being in love with you, my darling Duke,” she responded, and he grinned back.

“Lovely. Nice and vague.”

“Well, that’s what Society is about, isn’t it? Being careful about what you say.”

“I’ve never been good at that.”

She gave a short laugh. “No, me neither. Perhaps we’ll get better at it as we get older.”

“Well, I for one hope not.”

She met his eyes again and leaned forward slowly, her lips barely brushing against his. Edward had only just closed his eyes, ready to receive the kiss, when the carriage lurched to a halt.

“Oh,” Daphne said, a trifle breathlessly, pulling back. “I think we’re here.”

“How lovely,” Edward said testily. “Might we not stay in the carriage?”

It was beyond strange, taking herhusbandupstairs to her childhood bedroom. Daphne couldn’t quite meet the eyes of the baffled servants they’d rushed past on the way up here.

Edward’s hand was warm and rough in hers, and all the desire from earlier had come rushing back in great, stuttering leaps, making her legs feel like jelly. It had occurred to her that the family might very well come back early from the ball, and then she would not put it past her sisters or her mother to barge into her room without knocking.

For some reason, this was remarkably funny.

Laughter bubbled up her chest, and she clapped her free hand over her mouth to smother it.

They reached the landing, with Edward tripping on the topmost step and stumbling. This was somehow funny too. Daphne pulled him close to her, chuckling, and wound her arms around him.

“Clumsy,” she whispered.

“I am remarkably nimble, my dear wife,” he murmured back, his arms closing around her waist. His palm flattened out against her back, warm and firm, and she felt almost dizzy with desire. “You’ll see just how nimble in a minute. Now, which is your room?”

Daphne stumbled the last few feet to her room, pushing open the door. To her chagrin, the room was dark and cold, the fire not lit and no candles ready. Not that it was the servants’ fault, of course. They weren’t expecting the family back for a while. It wasn’t as if Daphnewascold, anyway.

She closed the door behind them and turned the lock.

Turning to face her husband, she leaned against the door, overcome by a rush of nerves and shyness.

“Should I light a fire?” Edward asked, his voice scratchier than usual.

“I’m not cold,” Daphne found herself saying. “At least, I don’t think Imindbeing cold. Is that a silly thing to say?”

“No. Not at all. I can summon a servant, get them to bring some candles, some food, some wine?—”

“No, not yet,” she interrupted, taking a tentative step forward.

Where had the nerves come from? Desire still pulsed through her, insistent andwanting, but now she found herself afraid for some reason.