AllFreeNovel
Share Us
With only one parent to influence his behavior, Duncan had become exactly what his father had wanted him to be: a younger replica of himself. Suave, hard, and disillusioned by all of the world’s small enchantments, his entire life–his veryexistence–was comprised of a list of boxes meant to be checked.
Graduate from Oxford, check.
Inherit the Earldom of Chesterfield, check.
Go on his Grand Tour, check.
Marry a suitable countess, check.
The only box left was an heir…which was going to be damned difficult to produce if Alexandria made good on her threat and left him.
I’d rather be a beggar on the street than your countess in a castle.
What the devil was she even going on about? Had his impromptu visit to London made herthatangry? She hadn’t complained about his trips before. At least not verbally, although he had observed a raised brow and a pinched mouth every now and again. But he wasn’t a bloody mind reader, was he? He didn’t know what thoughts were spinning behind those big doe eyes. Not good ones, apparently. She had mentioned a mistress, and that had caught him off guard. Unlike most of his peers, he didn’t have a kept woman. Simply put, the interest had never arisen. He didn’twanta mistress. He wanted…he wanted Alexandria.
The thought stopped him cold. He stared into the mirror at his own eyes. Saw the truth reflected in the stark blue irises. And cursed himself for his foolishness.
Being in love with his wife wasnota box to be checked. It wasn’t on the same page. It wasn’t even in the damned book. A marriage was a construct designed to bring together two like-minded families of noble blood and old wealth. He hadn’t run off with Alexandria to Gretna Green in a fit of passion, for God sakes. Their union had been coldly calculated and efficiently managed. He had required a fiancée who could run his household, uphold their rigorous social calendar, and didn’t have even a whiff of scandal attached to her name.
She had needed a titled gentleman who was wealthy enough to overlook her lack of a dowry…and be discreet about it, besides.
Until he met with her father, Duncan hadn’t known the dismal state of Lord Wilshire’s finances. The earl had been holding on by his fingernails, and they were starting to snap off one by one.
When faced with the knowledge that the family they were marrying into was swimming in debt, most men in his position would have walked away, and been well within reason to do so. But not Duncan. No, the staggering amount of money that his future father-in-law owed had barely caught his attention. He’d been too busy staring at Alexandria, bewitched by her beauty, her wit, her grace.
He hadn’t wanted to marry her. He hadneededto marry her. As much as he had needed to draw his next breath. And he’d held that breath right up until she stood across from him in church, dressed in the lightest pink, and vowed to obey and honor him before God, King, and country.
I’d rather be a beggar on the street than your countess in a castle.
Duncan released a snort. So much for obedience and honorable intentions. Not even a year fully wed, and she was already done with him. With her vows. With this marriage.
Well, to hell with that.
She was his wife, damnit.
Hiswife.
Maybe it was time he reminded her.
Pressing the tips of his fingers onto the curved edge of the wash basin until his knuckles shone white, he frowned as he recalled all of the times that she’d asked him to stay with her after lovemaking and all of the times that he’d left, both her bed…and the manor itself. Not due to any particular aversion he had to sleep beside her–truth be told, he thought he’d rather like it–but because he had been taught that was what mendid. They kept separate bedchambers. Separate interests. Separate lives. Like a special set of cutlery, a wife was something to be paraded out at certain occasions and left to do as she pleased for the rest of the time, as was the husband. How else was nobility supposed to tolerate each other enough to procreate and continue the line?
I’d rather be a beggar on the street than your countess in a castle.
Duncan’s frown deepened, etching grooves into his face that connected the corners of his eyes to the lines bracketing the edges of his mouth.
What if there was a different way?
Abetterway?
She had told him that she wasn’t happy. Could he truly say anything different? Maybe Alexandria wasn’t the only one who needed to be reminded of what a marriage wasn’t…and what it could be.
Three
“Helen, have you seen my muff?” Standing in the foyer, bundled up in a fur lined cloak, hat, and sturdy ankle boots with small lifts on the soles to prevent her skirts from dragging in the snow, Alexandria looked around for the final accessory that would help prevent her from freezing half to death at the village’s annual winter festival.
Held every year before Christmas, the festival brought in dozens of merchants and craftsman from all around the neighboring estates in addition to ice carving demonstrations, a snowball throwing competition, and a flat area of grassy field that was purposefully flooded each autumn so that come December, it would be transformed into a slick patch of ice perfect for skating.
Alexandria had been attending since she was a young girl, but had missed last year on account of the wedding.Herwedding. To a husband she’d not spoken a word to since she told him that she was leaving.
