Armand didn’t regret leaving Winterberry Park for an instant. Not when he and Lavinia were forced to delay their departure as the storm lasted into the evening, not when his carriage became stuck in the mud left by the storm well after dark, and not when the rain picked up again in the middle of the night as they rolled out of Wiltshire, through Somerset, and into Devon. He was relieved to have the debacle of Alex’s house party behind him and to get back to normal life, whatever that was.

As uncomfortable as the carriage was, and as much as it made him wish he’d taken the train instead, he didn’t regret the way Lavinia had finally given in to exhaustion, slumped against him, and fallen asleep. He rather liked the way he was able to brace himself in one corner of the carriage, his feet propped up on the opposing seat, and position Lavinia in his arms for her maximum comfort. She felt good in his embrace, right and comforting. She was so tired that she slept deeply, in spite of the cramped conditions and the bumps and ruts they’d ridden over.

He could have whipped himself for the things he’d said in Alex’s library. He’d seen the second he turned around that Lavinia had been hurt by his words. He was a damn fool for using his marriage, however he’d entered into it, as a weapon to attack his friends. He didn’t feel as though his apology was enough either. Just because he hadn’t chosen to marry didn’t mean he wasn’t determined to make the best of it. The more he reflected on the whole debacle, the more he realized that he actually did have a choice. No one had held a gun to his head, just a great deal of fuss and unpleasantness. He could have said no. He could have walked away, just as he’d walked away from the house party when it became too much for him. It was his own desire not to cause a scene that had landed him where he was now. That and Lavinia’s innocent, pleading eyes, her sad, soft mouth, and the silken flame of her hair. Perhaps she wouldn’t mind coming to India with him.

She stirred as the carriage jolted, sucking in a breath and moving against him. Morning sunlight shone around the edges of the shades Armand had lowered to block out the light, hoping to buy her more sleep. She lifted her head and blinked blearily, looking like she might fly into a panic of confusion.

“It’s all right,” he said, rubbing her back. “We just turned off the main road and onto the lane that will take us home. Rest a little longer, we’ll soon be there.”

Their eyes met for a moment in the dim light. He smiled to reassure her, and she nodded, then rested her head against his shoulder once more. Armand’s chest seemed to swell and tighten at the same time. He settled his arms around her, reveling in the feeling of her body against his. It didn’t matter that they were both fully dressed and wrinkled from traveling, it felt wonderful to simply hold her like that. It was just the two of them for the first time, no noise, no mothers or friends fussing over them, no demands. Just silence, warmth, and a comfortable hint of arousal.

He wasn’t sure if Lavinia fell asleep again or if she was simply silent, but as they made another turn, from the lane to the gravel drive leading up to Broadclyft Hall, she drew in a breath and struggled to sit straight. Armand helped her, righting himself as he did, and pulling up the shades to reveal the dew-kissed world outside.

“There it is,” he said with resignation as the massive edifice of Broadclyft Hall came into view. “There’s the pile of stones I inherited.”

Lavinia drew in an awed breath and pressed herself against the side of the carriage, peering out at the home.

“It’s new, as far as grand country houses go,” he explained, shifting closer to her and peering out to see what she saw. “The original estate burned to the ground in the eighteen-thirties. My grandfather had this wonder built in its place. It took a good ten years for the whole thing to be finished.” He paused as the carriage turned onto the curving part of the drive that wound around a garden with a fountain in the center that faced the house’s wide front steps. “I remember spending Christmases here as a boy. Grandfather was so proud of his creation that he would pull out all the stops and invite half of Devon and Cornwall to lavish holiday parties. I think there’s something like thirty bedrooms in the house.”

“You think there is?” Lavinia turned to him. “You don’t know for sure?”

He smiled sheepishly. “Is it ridiculous for a viscount not to know how many rooms his country estate has?”

She paused, her eyes saying yes, but answered, “No.”

Armand’s smile grew, as did the warm pulse of feeling in his chest. The carriage lurched to a stop, then bounced as the driver hopped down. A moment later, one of his footmen opened the door. The young lad flinched in surprise as he noticed Lavinia.

“Good morning, Maxwell,” Armand nodded, straightening his hat and moving to step down from the carriage, then turning to offer Lavinia a hand.

“Good morning, sir,” Maxwell answered, stepping back and assuming a ready posture, but glancing to the front door with a touch of desperation in his eyes.

Armand focused on helping Lavinia down from the carriage, then offered her his arm before saying, “I know, I know, Maxwell. I didn’t send notice that I was coming home. But we departed Winterberry Park under extraordinary circumstances.”

“You didn’t inform your staff that you were on your way home?” Lavinia whispered as they started up the stairs toward the front door.

“Is that wrong?” Armand asked.

Again, Lavinia paused, subtly biting her lip, and while her eyes once again said “yes”, she said, “No.”

Armand couldn’t help but chuckle. “I might have mentioned that I am a terrible failure as a viscount.”

Before Lavinia could answer, the front door opened and his butler, Mr. Bondar, rushed out to meet them, looking startled. “Sir, we weren’t expecting you.”

“I know, Bondar. It is entirely my fault. But I was eager to bring Lady Helm to her new home,” Armand said.

Mr. Bondar’s eyes widened. “Lady Helm, sir?” he asked in his broad, Yorkshire accent.

Armand reached the top step, where Mr. Bondar stood, and thumped the man on the arm. “It’s a long story, Bondar. Could you have Maxwell bring our things in?”

“Yes, sir.” Mr. Bondar nodded, then gestured to Maxwell.

Armand escorted Lavinia into the house, watching her with a smile as she took in the grand front hallway. His grandfather truly had a flair for the grandiose. The front hall was as large as the entrance to any museum and just as finely decorated. A lavish, curving staircase led up to the first floor, which stood higher than most first floors, since the ground floor of the house contained a vast ballroom, a portrait gallery, and a library designed to strike awe into guests. Armand was surprised to find he was actually looking forward to giving Lavinia a tour of the place.

“Your lordship, welcome home.”

Armand turned to find his housekeeper, Mrs. Ainsworth, hurrying across the hall toward them. “Thank you, Mrs. Ainsworth.” When the woman glanced to Lavinia with as much surprise as Mr. Bondar had, Armand went on with, “Allow me to introduce my new bride, Lady Lavinia Helm.”

Mrs. Ainsworth nearly tripped over herself as she closed the final distance of her approach. “Your new bride?” she exclaimed before recovering herself enough to say. “Congratulations on your marriage, my lord, my lady.” She smiled at Lavinia with pink cheeks and wide eyes, half shock, half joy.

“How do you do, Mrs. Ainsworth?” Lavinia greeted the woman with a surprisingly poised smile and nod, considering not fifteen minutes ago she’d been asleep in the carriage.

Mrs. Ainsworth continued to gape at Lavinia for a moment before remembering herself and dropping into a respectful curtsy. “Forgive me, my lady. This is all so unexpected.”

“Yes,” Lavinia answered with a flicker of her eyebrow. “It most certainly is.”

Mrs. Ainsworth rose from her curtsy and met Lavinia’s expression with a flash of wisdom in her eyes. Armand could feel an instant rapport between the two women, which was a relief. Mrs. Ainsworth was seventy if she was a day, had managed the house through three viscounts, and knew how to navigate the kind of transition that a new mistress of the house would bring.

“I regret that the household is not prepared for your arrival, my lord,” she went on, glancing past Armand and Lavinia to where Maxwell was bringing in Lavinia’s trunk while the two other footmen, Les and Carl, rushed out to collect the rest of the baggage. “Your room is prepared as always, my lord, but would you like the maids to make up the chamber across the hall for Lady Helm?”

Lavinia blushed and lowered her head slightly at the question. Armand fought the impulse to tell his housekeeper that a separate bedroom wouldn’t be necessary, that he intended for his wife to share his bed. Sense and concern for Lavinia’s feelings held him back, though.

“You might as well,” he said tactfully, stealing a glance at Lavinia. “It’s better to have options.”

Again, Armand had the feeling that Mrs. Ainsworth had seen everything and knew all. She nodded sagely, sharing another quick, silent exchange with Lavinia. “I’ll have Sophie get started on it at once.”

“In the meantime,” Armand turned to Lavinia, “you can freshen up, change clothes, or even take a nap in my room, if you’d like.”

“Thank you,” Lavinia said with a smile. “Although once I’ve changed, I should consult with Mrs. Ainsworth about the running of the house.” She turned to the housekeeper. “I have so many questions.”

“I’m sure you do, my lady, and I shall endeavor to answer them all to the best of my ability,” Mrs. Ainsworth answered, somehow managing to convey that she had many questions of her own without breathing a hint of those words.

“I’d like to give you a tour of the house,” Armand began, letting go of Lavinia’s arm.

Before she could answer, Mr. Bondar approached. “My lord, since you have returned, there are a few things we should discuss. Estate matters.”

Armand let out a breath, removing his hat and pushing his fingers through his hair. “Yes, of course, Bondar.” He sent Lavinia an apologetic smile. “I hate to abandon you to duty when you’ve only just arrived.”

“It’s all right,” she said, her eyes bright with the newness of everything around her. “I’m certain your staff is kind and competent and that they will do an exceptional job of welcoming me to Broadclyft Hall.” She nodded to Mrs. Ainsworth, who beamed under the compliment.

The warm pulsing in Armand’s chest grew and spread. Lavinia’s was the cleverest answer he could have imagined to his apology. It was clear at a glance that she’d won both Mrs. Ainsworth and Mr. Bondar over in an instant. She was winning him over again and again with each new moment they spent together. He found himself reluctant to part from her. But his blasted duty called, and it would do no one any good to ignore it.

He took her hand, raising it to his lips for a ridiculously sentimental kiss. “We’ll see each other later for luncheon.”

“We will,” she echoed.

Armand let her hand go and stepped away, studying her for a lingering moment before turning to head off toward his study with Mr. Bondar. For the first time since taking ownership of Broadclyft Hall, he felt as though he’d come home.

It was the oddest feeling that Lavinia had ever experienced.

“So with three footmen, four upstairs maids, a kitchen maid, scullery maid, and hall boy, not to mention you and Mr. Bondar, and Mrs. Piper, the cook, you have enough staff to handle the workload of a house this size?” she asked as she and Mrs. Ainsworth finished their tour of the house by taking a seat in the housekeeper’s private sitting room.

“Yes, my lady,” Mrs. Ainsworth nodded, smiling at the curious kitchen maid, Ellie, who immediately brought in tea. “Though we have been known to hire temporary help from the village when the viscount hosts a party.”

“Has the current viscount hosted a party in his tenure?”

“No, my lady.” Mrs. Ainsworth fixed a cup of tea for her. “Though I wouldn’t mind seeing that change. House parties are a challenge, but they are also a lark.”

“I shall give it some thought.”

Yes, the feeling was strange indeed. Lavinia sipped her tea, finding it delicious and not too sweet, the way her mother always prepared it for her. Mrs. Ainsworth was old enough to be her grandmother, but she had spent the entire morning deferring to Lavinia and asking her opinion on things. Clearly, the woman was delighted to have a mistress again. No one had stood over Lavinia’s shoulder, telling her what she should do or what questions to ask. And, remarkably, she had known precisely what to ask.

She felt respected. She felt competent. She felt important.

“Begging your pardon, my lady,” Mrs. Ainsworth said once she had her own cup of tea. “There is already a great deal of speculation downstairs about how you and Lord Helm came to be married. We were given no indication that he was even thinking of changing his situation.”

Lavinia grinned, unsurprised that the servants were already chattering, though she hadn’t been in the house for more than a few hours. The giddy sense of freedom that filled her chest made her far more generous about details than her mother would ever have approved of.

“In the interest of preventing the spread of untrue stories, I will admit that my marriage to Dr. Pearson was sudden and unexpected on all sides.” She rested her teacup in its saucer, her cheeks heating. “My mother has been intent on marrying me off to a titled gentleman for years. She saw her opportunity last week when Dr. Pearson was attempting to extricate me from a rose bush. He was only trying to help, but Mama used what she saw to accuse him of impropriety and to demand he marry me immediately to make up for what she imagined was ruining me.”

She finished her explanation and peeked up to see what Mrs. Ainsworth thought. The older woman wore an expression of surprise, and a fair amount of amusement. “Well, we can’t go telling the housemaids that story,” she said, setting down her tea. “Could we tell them that you and Lord Helm have been acquaintances for quite some time, and that unbeknownst to us, arrangements were already in place for your nuptials at Mr. Croydon’s house party? Heaven knows it wouldn’t be the first time Lord Helm has left the rest of us in the dark.”

Lavinia’s mother would probably faint at the frank way Mrs. Ainsworth spoke, but Lavinia found herself smiling broadly. “If you think that would be best, then you have my permission to share that version of things. I am glad I told you the truth, though.”

“And I’m glad I can be here to ease what I’m certain is a startling change,” Mrs. Ainsworth said.

In spite of her smiles and delight, Lavinia was seized by the sudden urge to cry. What would her life have been like if her own mother had been as understanding and compassionate as Armand’s housekeeper? It was a heady feeling to be embraced so warmly. Perhaps her mother had unintentionally done a wonderful thing by pushing her into Armand’s arms. And perhaps her friends were right when they hinted that she could be just as happy and free married under the right circumstances as she could maintaining a stalwart, single life.

“Mrs. Ainsworth, Mrs. Ainsworth,” the youngest maid, Cherry, said, bursting into the room. The moment she saw Lavinia, she nearly shrieked in fright and froze on the spot.

“Is that a proper greeting for your new mistress?” Mrs. Ainsworth scolded her, but not with malice.

“I’m sorry, my lady,” Cherry said, dipping into a low, clumsy curtsy. “Good day, my lady. At your service, my lady.”

“Hello, Cherry,” Lavinia greeted her.

Cherry snapped straight and turned to Mrs. Ainsworth. “We’ve guests, ma’am. They’ve just arrived. Unexpected like.”

Lavinia’s heart squeezed to a stone in her chest. It couldn’t be her mother, could it? She wouldn’t dare show up on Armand’s doorstep less than twenty-four hours after Lavinia broke away from her.

Her fears were eased somewhat as Mr. Bondar marched into the room. “Lord and Lady Tavistock are here to call, my lady.”

A whole different sort of panic filled Lavinia. “Lady Tavistock?” She set her tea on Mrs. Ainsworth’s desk and stood. “How does she know I’m here?”

“Begging your pardon, my lady,” Mr. Bondar began, “but she doesn’t. Lord Tavistock informed me that he and his wife were simply passing by as part of a day trip, and they thought they’d stop by to see if Lord Helm were home.”

“We must invite them to luncheon,” Lavinia said, taking charge on instinct. “Lady Tavistock is an important woman in political circles in London.”

Mr. Bondar and Mrs. Ainsworth exchanged looks, then turned to Lavinia for guidance.

“If she is someone whose favor you wish to gain, we’ll do our best to impress her,” Mrs. Ainsworth said.

They all set to work. Mr. Bondar returned upstairs to assist Armand in whatever way butlers assisted their masters while Lavinia ran through a quick course of action with Mrs. Ainsworth and Mrs. Piper.

Exhaustion didn’t matter. The impossibility of entertaining Lady Tavistock within hours of arriving in a new home and within days of assuming a new title and position in life was irrelevant. Lavinia had a duty to her husband to fulfill, and she was determined to do it to the best of her ability. As soon as things were settled downstairs, she rushed to Armand’s bedroom, tidied up her hair and clothes, made sure she was presentable, then flew back downstairs to the sitting room where Armand was entertaining the Tavistocks. She smiled and greeted Lady Tavistock with modesty and as much grace as she could muster, answering her surprise and delight over finding Lavinia married so unexpectedly with every appearance of felicitation and ease. When luncheon was served, she drew on every lesson in how a titled lady should deport herself to see that her guests were happy and satisfied.

By the time Lord and Lady Tavistock departed, Lavinia was beyond exhausted and she couldn’t stop shaking as she thought of the disaster such a sudden call to entertain could have caused. But there was little time to think about it. Mrs. Ainsworth had questions about her wardrobe and how to send for the rest of her things from her mother’s house. And while Armand had the look of a man who wanted to spend time with his wife, they barely had a chance to see each other before Lavinia practically fell into his bed that night. She was so worn out that she couldn’t bring herself to care that she was sleeping with a stranger yet again.

Fortunately, Armand seemed as exhausted as she was and in no mood for awkward intimacy.

“You were dazzling today, you know,” he said as they settled into the large, oak bed and its voluminous quilts and featherbeds.

“Hardly dazzling,” Lavinia said, too tired to measure her words. “We had guests. I did what I was supposed to do to make sure they felt welcome.”

“I would have made my apologies and turned them away,” Armand said, sounding more like he was talking to himself. He plumped the pillow behind him, then flopped onto his back, pulling the covers up to his chin. “How did you know exactly what to do for the Tavistocks?”

Lavinia’s answer was delayed by a long yawn. “Mama spent years drilling social etiquette into me. Lord Tavistock is a peer. We are in the country rather than town. Cold meats and soup wouldn’t have been my first choice, but they were sufficient based on what we had on hand. If we host a supper party, service should be a la Russe, with two kinds of fish, three savory vegetable dishes, a roast….” Her words faded into half-asleep rambling as a gentle darkness closed around her.

She snapped awake again at the sensation of Armand’s arm closing around her, pulling her back against his chest.

“Is this all right?” he asked, snuggling against her.

Lavinia was suddenly wide awake. The heat of Armand’s body encircled her like a teasing promise. The firmness of his muscles was both a curiosity and an unexpected temptation. The part of him she’d found curiously delightful as it invaded her on her wedding night nestled against her backside in a state of half-excitement. She caught herself wishing he’d move his hands just a smidgen higher, toward her breasts, or a little bit lower, towards the part of her where a curious ache was growing.

“It’s fine,” she said quietly.

“Good.” He nestled further against her, and his breathing slowed. “It was lovely seeing you blossom in front of our guests today,” he said, evidently not ready for sleep yet.

“I would hardly call it blossoming,” she said, wanting to wriggle her backside against him but not daring to. “I was simply doing as I’ve been instructed to do.”

“Hmm.” Armand adjusted the blankets over them. “It seems to me that you’ve had far too much instruction and far too little amusement in your life.”

An ache in her heart joined the one growing in her core. “Perhaps.”

Armand was silent for a moment, long enough for Lavinia to wonder if he’d fallen asleep, before surprising her by saying, “Are there things that you’ve wanted to do that your mother has forbidden?”

She could have laughed. “A great many things,” she said, letting herself relax at last and soften against him.

“Such as?” he asked.

She thought for a moment as sleep tempted her once again. “I always wanted to ride a horse, but she would never let me. Never mind that some of the grandest ladies in England are accomplished equestrians, she believed it was too dangerous and that riding negatively effects a woman’s ability to conceive.”

As soon as the indelicate words were out of her mouth, Lavinia winced. Had she really brought up conception at a moment like that? It didn’t help matters when she felt that part of Armand twitch against her. He cleared his throat and shifted as though looking for a more comfortable position, then went very still as that part of him continued to expand.

“It’s settled then,” he said, his voice slightly rough. “As soon as possible, once we’re rested and the duties of the house had been taken care of, I’ll take you down to the stables and teach you to ride.” His body tensed in enticing ways. “A horse,” he clarified. “I’ll teach you to ride a horse. Your mother would love that.” He paused, then repeated, “Your mother,” almost nonsensically.

For some reason, that eased the tension she could feel radiating from him. His member softened, and before too long, his breathing had steadied out into sleep. She, on the other hand, lay awake for a while longer, cursing her mother for reasons she couldn’t quite put her finger on.