James grimaced, and suddenly the urge to fence left him entirely. He lifted his foil and wiped his brow, which was already sweating quite heavily.
“Do you mind if we take a break?” he asked. “I could use a drink.”
“Of course.” Nathan tucked away his foil, and then he and James left the fencing area together.
At the benches, they stopped and collected their towels, and James motioned for a footman to bring them glasses of water.
They sat down on the benches to watch the other fencers, and Nathan glanced at James, his brow slightly furrowed.
“So… it’s not going well, then?” he asked. “In that department, I mean.”
“Is it so obvious?”
“Well, I know you’re lousy at fencing, but you usually don’t give up quite that easily. So I was left with the conclusion that it was our conversation that was causing you distress.”
James gritted his teeth. He couldn’t discuss this with Nathan. No one could know about his arrangement with Violet. Otherwise, they might be able to find a way to annul the marriage. Then, he would lose the inheritance his father had made contingent on his marriage, as well as the ability to protect Violet and her sister.
But he had to say something to Nathan. Otherwise, he might go crazy by keeping it all in.
“I don’t think that the Duchess and I are compatible in that department,” he said, at last. “It is not her fault—it’s mine. Don’t ask me why. And you are not to tell a soul, of course. But I don’t expect that we will have a very loving marriage.”
“I see,” Nathan murmured gravely, although it was clear from his expression that he didn’t mean it. “And what shall you do? I cannot imagine you ever being unfaithful to your wife.”
“Indeed not!” The idea alone was enough to make James bristle.
“Then you must resolve the matter,” Nathan urged. “No matter what it takes. Otherwise, you are in for a tortuous life, my friend.”
James wanted to groan. Nathan was right—he was in for a tortuous life if he truly meant to live platonically with hisbeautiful, beguiling wife. Because what he’d said was true—he would never be unfaithful to her. It was not in his nature, not after the way his father had acted towards his mother. But that meant…
He didn’t like to think what that meant.
“Let’s talk about other things,” he said, trying to put this terrible thought out of his mind.
“As you wish.”
The footman brought water, and James thought briefly of asking for something stronger, for his mood had soured.
“I don’t have time to be thinking about my difficulties with my wife,” he said, before he took a sip of water. “Not when there are still so many problems in the duchy.”
“Ahh, yes, your great project to rid the duchy of your father’s cronies. How is it going?”
“Not well,” James sighed. “Actually, I have been meaning to speak with you about this. There are rumors that there is a rise in dog fighting in parts of the duchy. I have to make sure this practice ends, of course. It is one of the cruelest sports I have ever known. You still have contacts at Scotland Yard, don’t you? I was wondering if you could ask them to look into the matter for me.” He gave his cousin a meaningful look. “To see if a certain gang member is behind it.”
Nathan nodded. “I can ask, although I haven’t worked with Scotland Yard in some time. I’ll reach out to my contacts, but I can’t promise anything.”
“Thank you.”
The two men sat on the benches for another moment, silently watching the other sparrers. James found himself yearning to talk to Nathan more openly about Violet, to get his opinion on things she had said, on her reactions. But he didn’t want to come across like a lovesick, untried lad. Especially since he was certainlynotlovesick.
Nathan, however, seemed to be thinking along the same lines, because he said, “You’re going to have to find something more interesting than dog fights, however, if you want to be distracted from someone as beautiful as your wife.”
James wanted to argue, but once again, Nathan was right. Even bloodthirsty dog fights couldn’t banish her from his mind.
When he arrived back at his townhouse, James was in desperate need of a bath, a drink, and some peace and quiet. He needed to think. About the dog fighting, not about how Violet had looked the day before, covered in mud, her hair disheveled, and her cheeks pink with embarrassment and exertion. She had looked so beautiful, so healthy and strong.
Most women of his acquaintance were not so competent. They would never be seen mucking around in the mud, pulling weeds. But there Violet was, pulling up weeds to make his home more beautiful.
It attracted him and shamed him at the same time. He should have taken better care of his home. He had neglected it, as he’d been focused on righting his father’s wrongs.
