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“Then treat me like one!”

He stood and rounded the desk, propping his hip on the edge. “My father beat his wife. I don’t suppose you’d rather I treat you that way. My friend deposited his wife at his country seat and they haven’t seen each other since the day they wed. Perhaps that would be more to your liking? I don’t know any other way to be.”

She paused in her indignation, staring at her husband in complete shock. How foolish could she be? Of course, he didn’t know how to treat her. He’d never seen a respectful relationship between spouses. He didn’t have a loving family like she did.

She swallowed and licked her lips, approaching him slowly. “What about a friend? How do you treat a friend?”

He scrubbed his face, his voice hoarse as he said, “Should we get drunk together and participate in debaucheries around town?”

Oh, her poor, poor husband. “Do you confide in them? Do you tell anyone your thoughts and share your burdens?”

“My solicitor.” He waved a hand toward the closed door. “If the issues are truly serious, I’d employ his expertise.”

Emily couldn’t help but grimace. No wonder he avoided her at all costs. His instinct was to bury his feelings since he had never shared them with anyone.

Perhaps he did when he was drinking with his friends. Now that he had given that up, there was no safe place for him to do that.

She stepped between his knees and took his hands in hers, squeezing his fingers. “How about I tell you my vision of our married life and you tell me whether that’s something you would like to have. And please, feel free to tell me if it’s not. I won’t be offended.”

He nodded. “Very well.”

“I want to wake up next to you every morning because seeing you first thing after I wake up would bring me joy. I want to spend evenings in the parlor, playing games, or in the music room, singing songs, or doing some other family activity and I want to be by your side because I enjoy your company. Every night before bed, I want to have long conversations about how our day went, discussing hurdles either of us encountered, and giving each other advice and encouragement. Or perhaps talking about literature, gossip, and the news. I want to be able to tell you anything that bothers me, receive support from you, and give you support when you need it. I want to be the first person you come to when you receive good news or bad, when you are happy or sad, when there’s a problem you can’t solve, or when you want to see me just because. I want you to seek me out during the day and not hide away in this dank room. I want to see you. I want to talk with you. Dance with you. Make love with you. Be around you.”

He looked at her with eyes full of vulnerability. “I don’t think I know how to do any of that.”

She smiled and rose on her tiptoes until she was able to brush a kiss on his lips. His arms immediately closed around her waist, like they always did when she reached for him. “I think you’re already doing it.”

He tightened his arms around her. “I am serious. Do you think I do not want to see you during the day? That's all I want. But I am afraid to say something harsh. I am afraid to hurt your feelings. I am terrified of doing something wrong and pushing you away. I might be a gentleman, but I am not a gentle man.”

Emily shook her head. “You are wrong.”

“I don’t know how to be a husband,” he continued. “But more importantly, what terrifies me even more is that I know for certain that I will be an abominable father to your child.”

“Impossible.”

“I am barely able to be an adequate duke. Add more responsibilities and I shall crumble.”

She placed her hands on his chest, feeling his panicked heartbeat. “Is this truly how you see yourself?”

“Did you not just burst through these doors to tell me I am a poor excuse for a husband?” One side of his mouth kicked up in a sad smile.

Emily pursed her lips to keep herself from laughing, her eyes glinting with mirth. “No, I burst in here to tell you that you can be better.” She let out a breath. “I am not going to tell you that you are a perfect gentleman or an excellent husband.”

“Thank you,” he said dryly, “Now I feel a lot better.”

“What I am going to tell you, however,” she continued, ignoring his sarcastic remark, “is that I believe you can be.”

He raised a brow. “Why would you believe in me when no one else has?”

Her heart constricted in her chest, her throat tightening. She had to swallow before she could speak. “Perhaps I see something in you that no one else has.”

He covered her hands with his. “What is it you see?”

“The real you. The man who saved me when no one else would. The man who stopped drinking when no one thought he could. The man who stepped up to his responsibility as a duke even when it hurt. A man with great strength, resolve, and honor.”

“You’re describing someone else.” He shook his head.

“And yet I’m not. You have all those qualities and more. And you might have needed a nudge, but you did all the work yourself and after seeing that, how can I not believe in you?”