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For a moment, he appeared uncertain. ‘It’s expected of us.’

‘That’s not what I asked.’ She folded her hands and looked into his eyes. ‘If you would prefer not to stay very long, I could arrange that.’

A faint trace of gratitude shifted his expression. But he was cautious. ‘We can stay, if you wish. I will allow it.’

But he didn’t want to. She could see that clearly enough. ‘This is our wedding day,’ she corrected. ‘We can compromise.’

His expression shifted again, as if he didn’t trust what she was about to say. ‘What did you have in mind?’

She glanced outside at the snow. ‘We stay for an hour, share the food and celebrations, and then we tell them that we have a long drive ahead of us in the snow, and it could be dangerous if we wait too long.’

‘True enough,’ he agreed. After a pause, he added, ‘And in return, what do you want from me?’

She didn’t miss the suspicion in his voice. ‘I was…just trying to give you a wedding day that you would enjoy as well. That’s all.’

‘All right.’ But his expression remained wary. He studied her, and after a moment, he predicted, ‘Is this about the wedding night? Were you hoping to delay it?’

It wasn’t, but the moment he mentioned it, mortification burned through her. ‘I… I know my duty, and I will do what is required of me.’ He had kept his word about giving her the gardens, so she could do no less.

He released a heavy sigh. ‘It can wait, for a time.’

Relief hit her so hard, she hadn’t known she was that afraid. ‘Three weeks, then,’ she suggested. ‘It will give us time to get to know each other.’

‘At seven o’clock?’ he suggested. ‘Or would you prefer six o’clock, as you are accustomed?’

Was she imagining it, or was there a glint of humour in his tone?

‘I…do you think it should be that early in the evening? I don’t think it will take very long.’

At that, he did smile. ‘When it’s done properly, it will indeed take a very long time, Duchess.’

True to her promise, Lady Charlotte arranged for them to leave their wedding celebration early, despite protests from her mother and father. Alaric was grateful to be away from the crowd. He’d played the role of dutiful husband, but now that the wedding was over, he longed to be home again.

Strange to think that he was married—and yet he felt only solitude. Lenora had made her choice to wed someone else and so had he. It was done now, a closed book.

Part of him had wondered whether Lenora would attend the ceremony with her husband. No one in the ton had known of their prior relationship, so it was possible they could have been invited. Yet he was glad that there had been no sign of either of them.

That part of his life was over now. He needed to move on and forget Lenora. With Charlotte’s marriage settlement, he could truly begin the repairs and rebuild Severn the way it was meant to be. In many ways, it was a relief to know that his wealthy wife had made it possible to make the manor house more comfortable again.

Their carriage pulled to a stop in front of the house, and after the driver opened the door, Alaric stepped out to help Charlotte. She gathered up her skirts in one hand, the wedding veil trailing behind her.

He was starting to realise that, in their haste, he’d forced her to leave without changing her gown. It didn’t matter—she could change now, in her new bedchamber.

A footman waited at the door to welcome them inside. Snow was falling, and Charlotte lifted her face to it, smiling at the flakes.

‘It’s lovely, isn’t it?’

‘It’s wet.’ He didn’t particularly enjoy snow, and she had to be freezing in her gown.

But instead, Charlotte lifted her palm to catch some of the flakes. Her smile held such happiness he didn’t really understand it. Then she stood on tiptoe and brushed a few flakes off his cheek.

The unexpected touch startled him, like a caress he hadn’t been expecting. Alaric caught her hand in his and kept it as he led her up the stairs. ‘Let’s go inside.’

When they entered, he grew aware of the cold draughts of air and some of the snow falling from the roof. He turned to her and said, ‘I have workers who will begin repairing the roof this week.’

Her smile didn’t diminish. ‘Of course. My dowry is yours now. Spend whatever you need on the repairs.’

It was a strange thing to say, since it sounded as if she were giving permission for him to use the funds that were his by law. Truthfully, it was an unwelcome feeling, having to rely on his wife’s dowry to pay for his own house. And yet he was confident that he would eventually find a way to provide for her in turn, once the estate was restored.