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J ust like the days leading up to it, the wedding itself was over before Arabella knew it.

She found herself at the wedding breakfast table, looking around at the assembled guests and feeling as if the whole thing was happening in a dream.

Could she truly be married? And to this man sitting beside her, who she hardly knew at all?

She looked over at him, trying to apply the word husband to him in her mind, but it felt like playing make-believe.

It felt like she was acting out a story in one of Caroline’s novels.

And even though she knew she would remain here at Redmayne with him when the breakfast was over, in her heart she still half expected to go back home with her family.

None of it felt real at all.

On her right hand side was a lady who had introduced herself as the Duke’s cousin. She looked to be near Arabella’s own age, perhaps a few years older.

But even though today was Arabella’s wedding day, the cousin outshone her dramatically.

She was dressed in a gown that was absolutely the pinnacle of fashion.

Beside her, Arabella felt plain in the simple cream-colored wedding gown she had chosen.

In the shop, she had thought it looked so beautiful—so luxurious.

It was the finest thing she had ever owned.

But now, wearing it next to the Duke’s cousin, she felt like a child playing dress-up in her mother’s clothing.

She should have accepted the Duke’s offer to select a wedding gown and have it sent to her, she realized now.

She should have let him choose. He would have had a much better idea of what would be appropriate for this occasion than she ever could have.

He would have put her in something elaborate, like what his cousin wore.

It wouldn’t have been to her taste. That had been the problem. She preferred the simpler gown. But now, she wished she hadn’t prioritized her own preferences. What difference did that make? None of this was supposed to be about what Arabella would prefer.

The cousin looked over at her now and saw that Arabella’s gaze lingered on her gown. “Do you like it? The gown?” she asked. “I had it made especially for the occasion of course.”

“It’s lovely,” Arabella said truthfully.

“Well, I thought it was important for you to see something like this,” the cousin said.

After a moment, Arabella recalled that her name was Beatrice.

She pulled her lips into a smile that looked more like a sneer.

“I thought you ought to see what a real lady dresses like if you’re going to be playing duchess now. ”

The words were like a bucket of ice water, freezing Arabella where she sat.

So the Duke’s cousin thought badly of her. Disliked her. Maybe even hated her.

This was going to be more complicated than she had imagined.

Had she truly thought that she would be welcomed into this family?

She, the daughter of the Baron of Highgate, who was best known for his debts?

Of course, she was being judged and disdained.

Of course, the Duke’s cousin had no respect for her.

But she hadn’t imagined anyone would be so blatant about it.

Fortunately, the assembled group made it impossible for Beatrice to say much else. Everyone wanted a piece of the new duchess’ attention, and Beatrice would have had to speak over all of them to continue making rude comments.

Arabella watched as Beatrice made eye contact across the table with someone else, a young lady who looked so like her that they must have been sisters. She hadn’t been introduced to this other cousin yet, but as she watched, they exchanged smirks.

Suddenly, Arabella felt very tired. She wished more than anything that this breakfast would come to an end and that everyone would leave.

She would be alone with the Duke then, something she wasn’t entirely looking forward to—the idea made her nervous.

But at least she would be away from all these judgmental faces.

Unfortunately, the breakfast seemed to have the opposite force working on it than that of the wedding.

It dragged on for what seemed, to Arabella, like forever.

By the time people finally began to leave, it was late afternoon, and the sun was beginning to fall in the sky.

This was supposed to be a breakfast , but it had turned into an all day affair.

The house emptied slowly, and eventually Arabella found herself alone with the Duke. She forced herself to face him.

If he had anything to say to her, though, he must have decided that this was not the time to do it.

Instead, he beckoned a woman forward. She couldn’t have been any older than Arabella herself.

“This is Polly,” he said gruffly. “She’ll be serving as your lady’s maid, and she’ll take you up to your quarters and help you settle in. If you need anything, you can ask her.”

He turned and walked off without so much as a welcome.

Arabella watched him go for a moment and then decided the distance he was putting between the two of them was for the best. She turned to Polly. “It’s lovely to meet you,” she said.

“Thank you, Your Grace.” Polly blushed. It was the first time someone had addressed Arabella using that title, and she couldn’t help feeling taken aback. But she supposed it was accurate. She was the Duchess of Redmayne now.

Polly took her to her room where she received her first feeling of relief all day.

All of her possessions had been brought up for her, and even though the massive space with its wide windows was unfamiliar, having her things here made it feel more like home.

She allowed Polly to help her into her nightdress, feeling that after the events of the day, she would like nothing more than to go to bed very early and get a lot of rest.

But it was not to be. A knock came at the door after she had been in the room for only about an hour, just after Polly had left her for the evening.

Arabella’s first assumption was that Polly must have forgotten something and come back, so she didn’t bother to put on anything for modesty when she went to open the door.

But it wasn’t Polly. Instead, the Duke himself stood there, and Arabella was suddenly painfully aware that she was wearing nothing more than a nightdress. She couldn’t even look at him.

He didn’t seem to notice, though. “Are you settling in all right?” he asked her.

“Yes.” She forced her eyes up to his. “This is very nice, thank you.”

It was their wedding night, she suddenly realized.

What if he had come to her for a reason?

What if there was something he wanted—something he was going to ask for or insist upon?

They had agreed at the time of their engagement that he wouldn’t touch her, but she didn’t really know this man.

What if he had only been saying that to get his way? What if he hadn’t really meant it?

If he insisted, she would have to give in. What choice did she have in the matter? None. She knew that.

“I’m here because you and I need to set some rules. Come to an understanding,” he explained.

That took her by surprise. “Rules? What kind of rules?”

“Rules for this marriage. Expectations that we have for one another. I should have brought this up right away when we were still downstairs, but I wanted you to have a moment to refresh yourself and adjust to your new home.” Now, he did look her up and down, taking in the nightdress.

“I didn’t realize you would have changed for bed already. ”

“I was tired.”

“That’s all right. I won’t be long. So, the rules.” He crossed his arms. “I will continue to send money to your family.”

“Yes, I never thanked you?—”

He waved a hand. “That isn’t necessary,” he told her. “All I need from you is your word that you won’t criticize me in public. That you won’t ever say anything unflattering or unpleasant about me to anyone.”

“Of course, I won’t.” She was mystified. Why would he worry about that?

“If you have critical things to say, you may say them to your sisters or your parents,” he offered. “I won’t try to control your communication with your family. But in public, in front of other people, you will show nothing but approval for me. Is that understood?”

“Of course,” Arabella said again. It startled her that this was the first thing he would ask for—she’d had no plans to say anything unfavorable about him, in public or otherwise.

He nodded. “Very well,” he said. “In that case, before I go—are there any terms you would like to set?”

“What?”

“We’re discussing rules for our marriage, and I’m offering you the opportunity to bring up anything you might have in mind,” he told her.

“I’m permitted to set rules?”

“It’s your life, too. I’m not promising you that I’ll agree to them, but if there’s anything you’d like to discuss, now would be the time to do it.”

She thought quickly, wishing she had had more time to prepare for this conversation.

She was sure all sorts of ideas would come to her later, and she would wish she’d thought to bring them up when she’d had the opportunity.

“I suppose—I suppose I just want to ask that you not make your… dalliances… too public,” she said.

“I wouldn’t try to limit you, of course, but I don’t wish to be shamed. ”

He raised his eyebrows. “You assume I will be seeing other women?”

“Won’t you?”

“I don’t know why you would presume something like that.” His eyes narrowed, and to her surprise, she realized he was angry. “Have I done something to give you the impression that I’m the sort of man to be unfaithful to his wife?”

“Well—no, but I thought—our agreement,” she stammered, no longer knowing what to think. “You didn’t want an heir, so I just assumed…”

“You shouldn’t assume things.” His eyes darkened. “You especially shouldn’t assume things about me.”

“All right,” she agreed, taken aback. “I won’t. I apologize.”

“Good,” he said. “There won’t be any dalliances with other women, so there will be nothing to keep a secret.”

She nodded, wondering if that meant he would expect to share her bed. She didn’t know how to ask the question, though. She felt completely out of her depth, unable to cope with the magnitude of what was happening.

“If that’s all,” the Duke said, “I’ll bid you good evening.” He started to turn away.

“Wait—Your Grace.”

He turned back and raised an eyebrow.

“One more request,” she said. “Or rather—a first request since I turned out not to need the other one.”

“Go on, then.”

She swallowed hard. “Dinner,” she said. “I want you to join me for dinner every night. This is a big house, and I don’t want to feel as if I’m all alone here. It will go a long way toward helping that if we dine together.”

He nodded. “Very well,” he agreed. “I’ll join you for dinner beginning tomorrow night.”

“Thank you,” she said, feeling slightly helpless.

“Would you like something sent up to your room for tonight?”

“That would be very nice, actually.” Now that he mentioned it, she was hungry.

“I’ll inform the kitchen,” he told her.

He turned and walked off without another word, leaving Arabella to watch him go and wonder what to make of the strange man she had married.