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He pulled away from her, putting much-needed distance between them.

“I must make two things clear to you, wife,” he growled. “One, our marriage’s sole purpose is to help us escape the torment we would have faced because of the scandal. You wanted a love match, but I cannot give it to you, so do not harbor such paltry notions.”

Her cheeks were pink, and the soft mounds of her breasts teased his eyes, but he did not linger.

“Two, you are never to enter my chambers at this hour ever again.”

“Are you barring me from your chambers?” she asked incredulously.

“I may not be a beast, but I am only a man, and I would advise you to take some caution in your dealings with me.”

“Is there anything else, Your Grace?” She was angry, and that was much better than desire.

“Yes,” he answered grudgingly. “You have free rein of this estate, so you may do as you wish. I will not stop you.”

“I thank you for your generosity,” she sneered and turned away from him. “I bid you good night.”

The door slammed shut loud enough to rattle his glassware, but he ignored it and sighed, running a hand over his face at the turn of events.

He had not expected to lose control as he had, but his body was still primed and ready for release.

“Damn it,” he cursed.

He needed to learn to control himself around her, or she would no doubt begin to harbor hopes he would only dash. So, even ifhe wanted terribly to tear off her nightgown and taste her flesh, he would resign himself to cold baths and terrible longing to save them both the pain of indulgence.

CHAPTER 8

“Your Grace, the rugs have been dusted as you asked,” Amy, one of the upstairs maids, reported to Eveline. “Shall we replace them now or use one of the newer ones?”

“Replace them now,” Eveline told her. “Let us use the newer ones for the foyer. We might receive guests soon.”

The maid curtsied and walked away.

A few other servants arrived to report the progress they had made on the tasks Eveline had assigned them, and so far, she found the tasks both exciting and burdensome. Her waking hours had been all but consumed with chores, and more often than not, she found herself wondering if there truly was any joy to marriage. It seemed all there was, was task after task.

She had thought the estate perfect, but upon closer inspection and further discussion with Mrs. Herbert, a list had been drawnup, and she had organized the tasks from the most important to the least important. Eventually, they would organize balls and events as required, but until she had the Duke’s approval, she decided to focus on restoring the estate.

The areas of the walls overrun by weeds had been cleared, and the bedrooms long since forgotten had been cleaned in the event they had to host guests—which she looked forward to. Then, there was the task of upgrading the storehouse for the produce to be stored in winter, and many more things she found boring.

She had learned to appreciate the effort Ava had put into running their home while raising them. For the past few days, the only moments of freedom had been meal times and a few hours of respite she fought for. She had to oversee most tasks, or they might not be done to her standards. The servants were competent, but she was particular about many things—which she was starting to regret.

Eveline had not had much of a hand in household matters in her father’s estate, and she discovered quickly that she had been spoiled. Yes, she had received the theoretical education, but she had to rely heavily on Mrs. Herbert, who did not show her an ounce of judgment despite how lacking she was. The woman had been nothing but patient, offering praise and gentle correction when necessary. It was like having a mother, and the feeling, though unfamiliar, made Eveline smile.

She looked over her list of tasks and checked off all that had been accomplished, worrying her lip at the remaining tasks. If she were to continue, it would carry even up to dinner, andshe sincerely did not want to spend her whole day handling chores. She had spent the better part of the week doing so, and now all she needed was a respite. But there was hardly any entertainment in this remote estate. She had exhausted her delight in embroidery, and the loneliness she had felt the past few days was starting to overwhelm her.

She had barely even seen the Duke since their wedding night, as if he was making every effort to avoid her. She, too, had been making an effort to avoid him, but considering he was the only one in the estate who could speak to her, she couldn’t help but wish their situation was different. The silence in the estate was a far cry from the loudness of the household she had grown up in.

Sighing, she decided to take a turn about the gardens. She had been impressed by the horticulture and was thinking of bringing in more flower species. But aside from the polite greetings, she had yet to propose her ideas to the gardener.

The sweet scent of the flora hit her as she approached the garden, and her mood instantly brightened. An involuntary smile spread across her face the deeper she went, eyeing the array of flowers. She had yet to learn the history of the gardens, but she assumed that one of the previous Duchesses had supervised it.

She spotted the elderly gardener trimming the hedges and walked over to him. He lowered the shears, bowing deeply when he saw her.

“Your Grace,” he greeted.

“How are you today, Wilson?” she inquired, smiling at him.

A broad smile stretched across his face, which caused her to smile wider. He appeared to be in his forties, with silver streaks darting across his dark hair, and seemed to enjoy his job, as he was always whistling a tune.