Still, she wondered about it, and his cryptic remark about atoning for something, for the rest of the carriage ride. It took them several hours to reach the inn where they were staying, and Vanessa was half-asleep by the time they arrived. It was dark, and the Duke escorted her up the stairs to a small butcomfortable room that he told her belonged to the innkeeper and his wife.
“They insisted you take it,” he said, as a footman lit the candles.
“Me?” Vanessa asked, looking around at him. He was standing in the doorway, his hat still on his head, bouncing on the balls of his feet as if eager to be gone. “Does that mean you will not be staying with me?”
“No,” he said. “I have the room next door. But if you need anything, you can send for me or the innkeeper.”
“Oh…” Vanessa had a hard time hiding her disappointment. As nervous as she was for the wedding night, the idea that her husbanddidn’twant to spend it with her made her feel like she was eighteen again and being passed over at every ball because she was too shy to speak to gentlemen.
“I know this is not ideal,” he said, seeming to sense her unhappiness, “but in two days we will be in Lyme, and then everything will be well.”
Ahh. He would prefer us to have our wedding night at his estate, rather than in a small, shabby inn.
“Goodnight,” she said, curtsying to him. “I will see you in the morning.”
“Goodnight,” he said, and before he closed the door, she was sure that his eyes lingered on her.
Winston closed the book and set it at his nightstand. He had wished it would distract him, but it didn’t seem to help.
Nothing was making him even remotely tired. Instead, he was pacing back and forth in the tiny room the innkeeper had given him, his mind buzzing and his body tense.
She is right next door. My wife is right next door, sleeping.
The thought sent a shiver through him which he repressed. It had been hard to walk out of her room, to say goodnight to her when her eyes were looking at him with such tender vulnerability, but he knew he had no other choice.
This cannot be a real marriage. Everything I touch, I ruin.
And there was no way he was going to ruin someone as fragile yet impressive as the Duchess.
The conversation about her parents had intrigued and infuriated him. He wanted to know more about it. He had a strong suspicion that her parents had treated her very unkindly, but he wasn’t sure yet, and he knew that if he made accusations too soon, it would only clam her up.
She is used to defending them because they have made her into a people pleaser. A compliant servant, not a strong and independent woman.
Many parents were like that, it was true, but Winston had a particular dislike of controlling and cruel parents. It hit a little bit too close to home.
“Your Grace?” There was a knock on the door, and his valet, George, came in. “Do you wish to change for bed?” he asked, looking with concern at where Winston was pacing, the brandy glass grasped tight in his hands.
“Yes, I suppose I should,” Winston said, and he set down the brandy glass and moved to the screen where his valet began to undo his cravat.
“Is there any more word from London?” Winston asked. “Any letters that might have arrived ahead of us?”
“None, Your Grace,” his valet said.
“Leo is worried,” Winston said as his valet fiddled with the pins in the cravat. “Apparently, the Bow Street Runners visited his house when he was watching over the Duchess. He thinks they have questions about Lord Tallow.”
Winston had not been lying when he’d told his wife there were things in the city he needed to escape. While Lord Langdon was one of them, the presence of Bow Street Runners at Leo’s waseven more chief among them. If they had gotten wind that Leo was involved in the attack on Lord Tallow, then it would lead them directly back to Winston.
George was one of the few people who knew about Winston’s and Leo’s midnight vigilantism. It was impossible for him not to have found out, what with Winston always arriving home in the middle of the night, his clothes often stained with blood and sweat. So far, he had been instrumental in helping them hide in plain sight, but the worry on his face told Winston this development was not good.
“When did he tell you this?” George asked, his brow furrowed.
“Shortly before the wedding. He’d had word from his staff.”
“Maybe they just wanted to ask about Lord Langdon kidnapping the Duchess,” George suggested.
“No one knows about that,” Winston said. “I did not report it for her sake.”
George sighed. “It is still possible they found out. People talk, especially servants.”
