Page 2 of Discovering the Duke

Julia said nothing. The space of silence was all Lady Venerton needed. She clasped Julia’s arm in her hot, bejeweled fingers and leaned her blonde head toward Julia’s dark one. “I hate to be the one to tell you this, my darling Julia, but I have heard it on good authority that your husband has a mistress at his country estate.”

Julia’s stomach turned to lead and slid lower into her belly. “Oh?”

Lady Venerton pouted. “I know, and you’re just newly married. But I thought you might want to know.”

“Of course.” It was all Julia could manage to say, especially when it wasn’t anything she did not already know. And that was the worst of it, really. That the malicious words leaving those pretty lips were true.

“I’ve suspected for a while, to be honest,” Lady Venerton continued on in the way she did, always digging the blade deeper and finding the most painful spot to twist. “After all, he often flirted with me when he was courting you. I found it inappropriate and told him I’d have nothing to do with him because he was with my closest friend, and I was quite happily married.”

And by “happily married,” she most likely meant “happily shopping.” Still, she found her mark and twisted at that most painful spot. Heavens, the woman was skilled with wielding her wicked words.

“I see,” Julia said through numb lips.

They’d made their way to the bottom of the stairs, and Lady Venerton’s eyes lit up. “Oh, look! They’re setting up a game of charades.” And with that, she left Julia’s side with the exuberance of a child, bouncing about on the energy wrought by destroying another’s heart.

If Julia’s mind had not been made up previously, it most certainly was now. When William arrived, Julia would tell him she wished to retire to country once she’d produced his heir. It was the only way to ease her regret at marrying him. As a woman, she had no other options.

Despite her steeled determination, she did not get the opportunity to declare her decision. Not on the first day, nor on the second. However, on the third, after a brisk walk about the frozen lake, Julia made her way into her chamber and saw the very man she wanted nothing more to do with: her husband, William Sinclair, the seventh Duke of Stedton.

And he was only partially dressed.

“Oh.”

It was a simple little word, and yet it conveyed so very much to William Sinclair when it came from the wife he had spent the better part of two weeks thinking of. He’d been in the middle of dressing when the door opened, and in she had walked, stunning in her beauty.

Light spilling in from the windows turned her skin to the finest cream and shone on her glossy black hair. She’d been outside recently, as her lips and cheeks were red with the cold and her deep blue eyes sparkled like sapphires.

“Julia.” He smiled at her.

She did not return the gesture. Her stare fixed on his naked chest, seeing it for the first time. He ought to put on a shirt, perhaps, but she was his wife. He wanted her to see him, to love him, to make a family with him.

A family. He wanted one of those again. The sharing, the laughter, the love. All of it. The very idea had seemed impossible for far too long.

He approached her, and she went stiff.

Confound it. He knew the wedding night had not been up to snuff, but he hadn’t realized it was all that bad. But then she was so very petite, and he was so very large. He’d been terribly worried he might hurt her. Had he?

He didn’t take another step in her direction. “I’m sorry I had to leave to leave so abruptly.”

“You had obligations.” Her response was cool.

“I left you a note.”

“I received it. Thank you.”

William glanced back at his valet and found Hodges awkwardly studying a corner of the ceiling, clearly wishing to be anywhere but there at the moment.

“You may go, Hodges.” William wanted the privacy as much as Hodges no doubt wanted to be free of this whole bloody conversation.

The older man said not a word. He slipped out faster than William had ever seen him move in his life, but not before shoving a shirt into William’s hands as he went. The message was clear: Put on your shirt. The little push in which the garment was delivered added an insistent: Now.

William pulled on the thing before striding toward Julia. This time, she put up one small hand. “Stop.”

He did as she commanded. This was most certainly not the welcome he had hoped for from his new wife. He’d anticipated nights of making up for the lost time, mending what he had botched.

“You left me on the first day of our marriage.” Hurt flashed in her eyes. “And I know exactly why you left.”

“There were matters of the country estate—”