Page 70 of Never his Duchess

“You were not waiting up for me then?” he said, a touch too amused.

“Why would I? If you require a governess to wait up and tuck you into bed, do let me know—I shall gladly advertise in The Ladies’ Magazine.”

“Oh, Evelyn. That sharp tongue of yours. Forgive me for assuming you cared.”

“If you must know,” she said, “I simply could not sleep.”

“Indeed? I’d have thought you’d sleep soundly after a day out. I always do, especially after a night out. A distraction does help settle the mind.”

“Oh, I’m quite certain there were plenty of distractions available to you,” she snapped—instantly regretting it.

“Are you jealous?” he asked, his voice all amusement. The rage that flared in her belly spread to her limbs.

“Why would I be jealous? Of what, precisely?”

“Perhaps you can enlighten me. It certainly seems that way. That bulging vein in your forehead gives you away. It only appears when you are thoroughly vexed.”

Her hand flew to her forehead, but of course, there was nothing there.

“You are impossible.”

“Well, if you are not jealous, then what is it?”

“If you must know, while I am most certainly not jealous of whoever has caused your current state, I am saddened to see that you’ve returned to your former ways.”

“My former ways?” he echoed. “If you’re referring to my life in Scotland?—”

“Precisely,” she said. “Your former life. I’m ever so glad you have managed to import it here. That said, I do beg you to be discreet in your… exploits.”

“My exploits?” He chuckled. “You do sound jealous.”

“I am not a jealous wife. I am a wife who has already been publicly ridiculed once on account of a husband she was forced to marry. I had hoped, at the very least, to be spared embarrassment the second time around.”

“I see. You find me embarrassing.”

“When you tumble out of a carriage looking as though you’ve slept beneath a hedge—hair a mess, stinking of brandy—yes. I find that embarrassing.”

“Well then,” he said with a bitter smile, “fortunately, ours is not a real marriage.”

“I daresay it is quite real to everyone who believes us wed. Real in the eyes of the law and God.”

“And I daresay everyone also knows it was not a match of love, but of necessity. So my mortifying behavior, as you call it, is entirely fitting. Every other wretchedly unhappy husband behaves just the same.”

Her cheeks burned as though he’d struck her.

“Nathaniel, I do not wish to quarrel,” she said, steadying her voice. “Live as you please. Embarrass yourself in the eyes of our peers—I care little. I shall live my life, and you shall live yours.”

She clenched her fists. “Speaking of which, I shall make use of our townhouse. Not as my residence—I’ll not relinquish my quarters here, which I am entitled to—but I shall use it.”

He laughed. “And what use might that be? Sitting alone and conjuring more insults to lob at your husband?”

“I intend to start a society for young ladies, if you must know. Unless you object. Though I imagine you wouldn’t—given this marriage is, as you say, only on paper.”

“Only on paper,” he echoed, his voice suddenly unreadable. “Very well. Go forth. Found your society. Host your little soirées. I care little.” He turned and marched away.

When he was gone, she dropped back onto the chaise and slammed her fist into the cushion.

What in the world happened?