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After his valet left him be, Tristan sat on the edge of his bed and wondered how a man could free himself of his past. He saw the edges between his wives blurring and tried to push them apart.

They were so very different. Weren’t they? They had to be. And yet…

For all the strength he saw in Verity, he couldn’t particularly imagine her screaming at him. She seemed reasonable, not flighty.

He had spent all his life around men. It made women so unfamiliar and strange to him. His friends had always teased him about needing to find a proper lady to have and to hold.

He scoffed. Women were trouble. Eventually, Verity would prove him right.

But in the meantime, he rather liked the idea that she might be anything different from Cassandra.

She had not fought him too hard on his need for order thus far.

Perhaps they could have a few decent years before everything soured.

The following morning, he rose early to face a wet and bright day. He took a long walk to stretch his legs, then returned just as Verity was stepping out to climb into the carriage.

She stopped, confused at the sight of him. “Good morning, Your Grace. Are you aware you have brought a horse?”

He exhaled and wondered if he remembered how to smile. “Yes, I am. In fact, it is your horse.”

Her brow creased as she studied the reins he offered her. Then, he realized that she most likely didn’t bother with those, so he motioned for a stable boy to come and hold them for her.

Still, Verity studied him with more confusion than the excitement he had expected from her.

Perhaps he needed to find another way to apologize. Or would it be a wasted apology?

Tension seized his shoulders as he braced himself for her reaction to whatever slight she might have perceived.

“I’ve never seen this horse before,” Verity said, at last. “Wherever did you… find him? Purchase him?”

He gave a short nod. “Purchased.” Then, he glanced at her maid, who was gawking at him. “Her Grace needs to change into her riding habit. It will be more comfortable than riding in the carriage, will it not?” he added to Verity.

“I would say… yes. But I’m… I beg your pardon, Your Grace,” she whispered, almost like she was shy.

He noted her blush and her long eyelashes and tried to concentrate on her words.

“If you purchased a horse merely because I noted the prior evening that the carriage was not comfortable, then it was quite unnecessary. I can manage a bit of discomfort.”

“Then you don’t want the horse?”

She huffed. “I love him already, but I did not ask for him. Why would you do it, really? What is it that you want from me?”

Surprised, he could only tell the truth. “I want nothing.”

It was her turn to step back, eyeing him with suspicion. He noted the awkward tilt of her head and wondered about her apprehension. Did she not enjoy gifts?

That seemed unlikely. She liked the horse, she had said, but perhaps she wanted another color. Something smaller.

“There are no expectations, should I accept this…” She swallowed loudly. “… this gift?”

“Ah. No. I’d rather there was no exchange.”

Her eyes widened imperceptibly, before she faced the horse. The creature wasn’t a particular beauty; there was no bloodline that the owner could offer. In truth, the horse was small and slim and yellow, and not at all worth what Tristan had paid.

It was the most I could offer in this situation, however, and I felt the urge to offer her something.

“Thank you.” Verity smiled as she glanced at him over the horse’s back. “He must have cost a pretty penny. No one had gifted me something so lovely in such a long time.”

The thought came to him, how she deserved all things lovely.

Verity was a lady, now a duchess. He managed not to look down, but he knew there were mud stains on her dress and holes in her gloves. He would have to fix that, if only for her to better represent her new title.

Tristan told himself he’d spoil her before she could make any demands. Maybe that would mend matters for them. In the meantime, the horse seemed to have done the trick.

She petted the horse’s mane but watched him with a beaming smile like she was genuinely happy.

Had he done that for her? There was something about her that made him forget the strict manner in which he had led his life. She made him want to gift her every horse in the world.

As he caught the feeling, the strangeness made him panic. He stepped back to put space between them.

That smile wasn’t really for him. He wouldn’t let it.

“You have no reason to worry about money. Especially since this is a gift and I expect nothing from you.” He started to turn toward his horse but then stopped, feeling the need to add, “I shall continue to manage the books and set an appropriate purse for your use.”

Pink flooded her cheeks. Coming around the horse, she hissed, “What does that mean? I can manage the accounts very well in the country; I can certainly do it in London as well.”

“I will manage the strings,” he insisted. “But you do not need to worry, so long as you don’t spend your pin money frivolously.”

“There is no need to be so insulting! A wife should be well-informed about household matters. I’m more than experienced to shoulder this responsibility, but I suppose I am willing to prove myself first if you will be so stubborn,” Verity said through gritted teeth. “What amount shall I have?”

When he told her the number, her mouth dropped open. “A year?”

“A month,” he said.

It was less than what Cassandra had received. But still, it seemed to satisfy Verity.

She stared at him, before nodding slowly.

“I trust you can manage your own accounts as well as any unexpected expenses for improving the townhouse,” he continued.

She straightened up. “You’ll get tired of doing the work soon, and you will eventually trust me. But very well, I accept the terms—for now.”

Tristan felt the wild urge to shake her hand.

How did a husband and wife seal their deals? Cassandra had never given him the chance. A handshake was not enough. Not even an embrace.

His gaze fell to his wife’s lips, and he shook his head to push the thought out of his mind. He would not kiss her.