Page 28 of A Duchess for his Family

Sophia appeared to dislike his silence even more. “You are doing it again.”

“Doing what?”

“Being infuriatingly calm.”

“Would you prefer me to shout?”

“No. I should prefer you to admit I am right.”

“That would be premature.”

“That would be honest.”

“It would be inaccurate.”

She made a sound, small, restrained, and unmistakably annoyed. Benedict should not have found it charming. He did not find it charming. He merely noticed that his future wife’s temper had more color than her shyness allowed most people to suspect.

They walked several paces in silence. More heads turned. More whispers followed. Sophia, for once, seemed too occupied with outrage to care.

At last she agreed. “Very well.”

Benedict heard trouble in the words. “Very well?”

“If Rivermere Hall is to be governed by rules, then I have a few of my own.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Do you?”

“I do.”

“Continue.”

She glanced at him, and the flush in her cheeks deepened. “Our marriage will remain in name only.”

He’d expected the condition. He told himself he’d expected it. That did not explain the strange, sharp tightening in his chest.

“Of course,” he nodded.

Sophia looked irritated. Benedict could not imagine why. He had agreed at once, as any gentleman ought. Surely immediate agreement was preferable to hesitation. Yet her mouth tightened, and her gaze turned toward the path with renewed displeasure.

“You agreed very easily,” she pointed out.

“I do not intend to force any intimacy upon you.”

She turned her head away, and he had the distinct impression that he was failing an examination whose subject had never been announced. They walked on beneath the trees. Sunlight broke through the leaves and moved across the brim of her bonnet, the line of her cheek, the curve of her mouth.

Then, Sophia spoke again. “However.” She drew in a careful breath, while her eyes remained focused forward. “If I should ever decide that I wish to be a mother, I expect you to fulfill your duties as my husband.”

For the second time since entering the park, Benedict nearly stopped walking. He did not. Years of discipline prevented it… barely.

A gentleman in a gray coat bowed as they passed. Benedict returned the bow by instinct alone. His mind, usually obedient, had become strangely empty of all ordinary thought and excessively full of Sophia Norton saying the word husband.

My duties as her husband.

The phrase was proper. Marital duties were a legitimate subject in any practical arrangement, particularly when inheritance, household, and future children were at stake. That did not explain why his collar seemed suddenly too tight around his throat.

Sophia glanced up at him, evidently mistaking his silence for reluctance. “It is a reasonable condition. And I should like the choice not to be denied merely because our marriage begins as an arrangement.”

“No. It will not be denied.”