The next several days were idyllic for Matt. He was now doing what he should have been doing before the wedding—he was learning to know his wife.

They spent time with Dewsberry and his countess before they left for Cornwall. There were jaunts to museums and exhibits and a night at the theater. Everything was light and relaxed.

Willa asked if they could attend a performance of Kate’s troupe, even if they had to travel a bit. Matt was ashamed to admit it had been years since he’d attended one of his sister’s plays. Another failing of his brought to light. “After the Evanston rout, we’ll search out where her troupe is.”

They also spent two days at Mayfield. Matt proudly introduced Willa to his tenants. He was also pleased to share what he’d learned about agriculture and the details of his estate. See, he wanted to say about those months in the country, he hadn’t just been pining for Letty Bainhurst, he’d been trying to do good.

He didn’t know why he thought of Letty in that moment, except he sensed part of Willa’s shyness around him was because of the infamous affair. She didn’t bring it up, but there were times she nailed him with her direct insight and other moments when he sensed she held back.

They slept beside each other. Willa no longer questioned the practice and she seemed relaxed with his presence, a sign of trust, he hoped . . . because his regard for her grew with every passing day.

His self-inflicted celibacy had heightened his awareness of her. It also meant he had to truly pay attention to her. And there were moments, especially when she slipped her hand in his, that he felt a contentment he’d never experienced before. Since he first attracted the notice of women, they had let him know they liked the way he looked. He’d rarely had to work for their approval.

But he had to work for Willa’s. And she demanded more than those women had. She valued character. She was remarkably perceptive to the smallest nuance, and yet guarded. He didn’t understand the roots of her doubts. He knew it wasn’t because of her rough initiation into sex. She didn’t seem to hold a grudge against him; however, he was determined to use his better nature to please her.

The morning of the Evanston rout, the one Minerva had hounded them over, they went on a picnic by the River Lea and did a bit of fishing. Willa wasn’t missish at all. She baited her own hook and even attempted to push him into the water. Their laughter had echoed around them.

Later, Matt fell asleep under a tree, his head in her lap. He woke to the sound of her humming. She looked down at him and gave a contented smile.

Matt had an urge to turn his head where it rested and sample what he wanted—except it was too soon for such a bold movement. He believed her passions matched his but he was waiting for her to make the first move.

“Did your cousin George send those men you wanted to hire for work?” she asked, interrupting the carnal direction of his thoughts.

She referred to his hushed conversation with George the other night. He had hoped she’d forgotten it. Instead, she seemed to remember everything.

“What did you want them to do?” she asked.

“It is of no importance,” he answered.

“George behaved as if it was important.”

Matt sat up. He looked at her . . . and realized he could share the truth. She was his wife. The results of Hardesty’s blackmail affected her. It was the whole reason he’d married her.

What if she heard the story from someone else? What conclusion might she draw against him?

“It was a matter about money that everyone, including George, believes I should abandon.”

Willa straightened up to truly hear what he was saying. “Do you think the matter should be abandoned?”

He looked at her sitting beneath the spreading oak, a bit of color to her cheeks and her hair in a braid over one shoulder, and answered, “Right now, in such a peaceful setting, it does seem silly to pursue it.”

“Why? What was the issue?”

Matt shifted his weight. “My grandfather was being blackmailed.”

“Blackmailed?” she repeated in disbelief. “Over what?”

“The reason isn’t important.” He wasn’t going to talk about his uncle William. Let the dead have their peace. “It stopped almost two years ago but by then the estate was robbed dry.”

“That’s what happened?” She flipped her braid over her shoulder. “People speculated about why your family had lost their money. Father assumed it was poor investments. He didn’t know what kind. He looked into it.”

“Being cautious, I suppose.”

“When it comes to money, Father is always wary. Money is his purpose in life. So, why did you want to hire the men?”

“The name of the blackmailer is Hardesty. I had some thought to track him down. I would like to have back what we lost. Or at least find justice.”

“And now?”

He thought a moment. “For the honor of the title, I should hunt the man down. It is what is right. However, perhaps everyone is right. Perhaps, I should just count myself incredibly fortunate.”

“Because you have my money.”

There was a clip to her tone, a challenge. Cautiously, Matt said, “It has helped.”

“And now justice doesn’t matter.”

Yes, there was definitely a troubling undertone. “I didn’t mean that you don’t matter, Willa.”

She abruptly came to her feet. “That is all right.” She dusted the dirt and grass from her skirts, not meeting his eye. She swept up her wide-brimmed hat and set it on her head. “We aren’t a love match. Come, we should return. It will take me hours to prepare for my debut as a duchess this evening. Will I truly have to be presented at court?”

“Soon, yes.” Minerva had her secretary making arrangements.

“It seems a great deal of fuss for nothing.” She began walking toward the two-wheeled gig he had hired for the outing.

Matt came to his feet and bounded after her. His long legs ate up the ground between them. He fell into step beside her, shortening the length of his stride. “What is the matter, Willa?”

She didn’t look at him but continued purposefully forward as she tossed out, “Nothing. It’s all fine.”

He sensed it wasn’t.

Matt took her arm. “I’ve offended you.”

A look crossed her face, one he couldn’t decipher. She didn’t answer.

“Willa, please, what did I say?”

She didn’t want to have this conversation. She glanced at the gig only five feet away. The horse was asleep, one hoof cocked. Like any hired nag, it was not anxious to wake.

And that was when Matt gathered his courage and asked, “What if we had been a love match?”

That caught her attention. A calmness seemed to settle over her. She closed her eyes, her dark lashes fanning her cheeks. She took a deep breath and released it before opening her eyes and saying. “I wish we had been a love match.”

“We could be,” he heard himself say.

“If we loved each other,” she answered carefully.

And here was the moment when he should declare himself to her. He could imagine his sisters watching and silently urging him to do what was right. Except he couldn’t say he loved Willa.

He’d loved Letty, and his feelings had been a constant turmoil. His world had circled around her. When she’d left him, he’d been shattered.

Matt never wished to let himself be that vulnerable again.

“I hold you in the highest regard.”

Disappointment crossed her face. “I understand.” She turned and walked to the gig. She climbed in, taking her seat.

Matt followed. “Do you?”

She scrunched her nose as if confirming she did. “Yes. I believe you are saying that I won’t ever measure up.”

“Wait—no, Willa, I’m not saying that at all—”

Willa stopped his flow of words with her fingers across his lips. “You’ve been kind. I appreciate that you haven’t forced yourself on me.”

Forced . He did not like the way that word sounded. It offended him.

“It isn’t ‘force’ between a man and his wife.”

“You know what I meant, Matt.”

Actually, he didn’t. “We will make love again, Willa. I can’t promise it won’t hurt. I’m a big man.”

And what if it did? His every intention was to honor his marriage vows. Could he go through life married to a woman as lovely and charming as Willa, and remain celibate? “Make love,” she echoed. “Interesting choice of words. Especially since love can mean so many different things. I don’t want anything from you that isn’t freely given, Your Grace. That is, anything save your honesty. I always want honesty from you, Matt.” She moved over on the seat. “We need to return home. We mustn’t be late for the Evanston rout. Minerva would be greatly disappointed. She has made all the plans.” She spoke as if what they’d been discussing did not matter, and yet, it did.

He stood there a moment more, scanning his mind for something he could say. He wanted to return to their earlier contentment.

“Willa, perhaps given time—”

She held a hand up. “No, don’t give me banalities.”

“But I admire you.” He did. After the raging passion he’d been through with Letty, Willa was a cool, refreshing spring. She was clear-eyed and uncomplicated.

“I admire you as well, Your Grace.” She could have been speaking to anyone, and it made him angry.

Matt untethered the horse, a sign to the mare that her nap was done. He climbed into the gig. It swayed in his direction as his heavier weight took a seat beside Willa. They were thigh to thigh.

But he didn’t move the horse on.

Instead, he sat. And she sat waiting.

Then she broke the silence. “My lover’s kiss is like no other, an answer to my soul. On a bed of roses, we joined, finding our peace in each other. Do you recognize the words?”

He feared he did. “I wrote them. Bad poetry.”

“I don’t agree. I thought it noble and proud. When I read what you’d written, I said to myself, here is someone who understands what love truly is.”

“Actually, I wrote the book as a way to honor my parents. It is what I’d observed about them. Not the sexual parts. Those were merely the fevered yearnings of a young man who thought himself a poet.”

“Or who believed in a love that was above all others.” She turned to him. “You are fortunate. My parents have never moved me to poetry. Or to emulate them in any way.” She turned away, looking straight ahead. “So, here we are. Two people who don’t quite know what love is.”

“I know it can eat you up inside. That it can be soul crushing.”

“That wasn’t what you wrote, Matt. Perhaps you would be wiser to trust the younger you. Now, can we go home? I need a bit of time.”

“To prepare for tonight?”

“No, to lick my wounds.”

For the first since he’d confronted her the afternoon before their wedding, he sensed a barrier being built between them, and he didn’t know what he should do.

So he drove her back into the city.

They were almost in sight of the house when Willa said, “I’m glad you told me of the blackmail. It explains much.”

“Do you think I should leave it be?”

She looked at him. “I think each of us has to do what we individually think is right.”

He didn’t believe she was talking about Hardesty.

The strength of his parents’ love for each other came to mind. It had been an unbreakable bond. One that he’d longed to have in his life. He knew it had called for great trust between his parents. Or had they just been lucky? There was the mystery.

He’d thought he’d found that strong a love once, and now, because of his own foolishness—no, weakness, he felt sad that he might not have it with Willa.

If Matt had his way that evening, he would have stayed home. He and Willa. Their conversation had unsettled him. He didn’t like the way he felt about himself.

However, he also needed to introduce his duchess to Society. Minerva was correct in announcing that it would be a good event for him and Willa to attend.

He gave the bedroom over to Willa and Annie. They, too, understood that this evening would be the Duchess of Camberly’s debut in Society. The primping went on for a good two hours.

However, as Willa made her way down the steps to join him waiting with Minerva in the front hall, Matt could say their time had been well spent.

Willa was always lovely to him but, tonight, with her hair piled high on her head and wearing a dress of cream gauze trimmed in gold ribbons and lace, she was spectacular. She wore a delicate, long gold chain around her neck and kid gloves up to her elbows. Her every gesture was feminine grace.

Watching her, something deep within him began to open.

“See?” his grandmother said quietly behind him. “I would not suggest just anyone for you to marry. Not for the title.”

How like one of his grandparents to take full credit for the marriage, and yet, it was true. She’d prodded him to ask for Willa and now he could confirm it was the wisest decision of his life.

He met Willa at the stairs, taking her gloved hand. “Every man will be jealous of me this evening.”

She blushed, and he wanted to take her right back upstairs and have his way with her.

Most of all, he wanted to turn back time to before they’d been so honest with each other.

They set off for Evanston’s home. There was a queue of coaches and vehicles waiting to release their passengers at the front door. Matt’s driver and footman shouted to make way for the Duke of Camberly. Evanston’s servants quickly waved them forward. The other guests whose places they had supplanted craned their necks as if trying to look into their coach. Matt knew they were anxious to claim the first glimpse of his duchess.

A servant opened the coach door at Evanston’s front step. Matt jumped out and then helped the ladies.

Inside, the ballroom was a crush of people. It took a good ten minutes for Matt and his ladies to make it from the step to inside the front door and the receiving line.

Lady Evanston was considered a leading hostess. She was a willowy woman with a slender face and a braying laugh. She happily informed Matt’s party that she had christened the evening “an Adventure in Greece.”

To that end, giant Greek boats made of paper, wood, and glue had been hung from the ornate ceiling so they seemed to float in the air above everyone. More than one gentleman whispered that he prayed they didn’t come close to any candles. Meanwhile, male servants in Evanston livery wore Minotaur masks that covered their whole heads and shoulders, as if they were hairy beasts.

The room hummed with the voices of men and women greeting one another while musicians readied themselves for dancing.

Minerva immediately noticed a group of her friends. She turned to Matt. “I’ll see you at supper.” She referred to the light meal that would be served around midnight to fortify guests at a ball such as this. Matt could only imagine how much food it would take to feed this army of guests.

“Well, now we are free to do whatever we wish.” He let his hand find Willa’s. “How many points for a dance?”

“Three.”

“I wonder if I can earn at least fifteen points this evening?” he asked.

Willa shot him a sly look. “It might be possible. I understand the duchess is overly fond of you.”

He laughed, and suddenly realized he could fall in love with her. It would be different from what he’d felt for Letty. Their liaison had been filled with drama and secretiveness. There had been anticipation and heady excitement. What he was feeling for Willa was vastly different.

Matt kissed the back of her hand, a gesture, he noted, that was caught and then catalogued by many around them for possible gossip on the morrow.

He proudly led Willa to the dance floor. Other couples were just taking their places for the opening set. They nodded their welcome to Matt and Willa, and he was able to introduce her to the few people he knew.

As he had expected, many gentlemen were envious of him.

However, Matt was claiming her. And it did feel good to not have to hide his connection with Willa, to not skulk around the way he had with Letty, lest her husband find out about them. It was freeing. Honorable. The way a relationship should be.

He focused on Willa and on dancing and enjoying the role of being in demand by all the glittering people around him. He and new wife moved from one social group to another as introductions and reacquaintances were made. The tension between them since their conversation earlier in the day eased.

Several times, Willa helped him by quietly mentioning the names of people around them that he had forgotten. This enabled him to please many that he remembered who they were. He appreciated her help.

They had just finished a Scottish reel, part of his intention to earn fifteen points, when Willa held up her hand. “I heard it was one point for a cup of punch.”

“Is that all? I prefer the higher point activities.”

She nudged him with her shoulder for his failure to take her hint. “Very well, two points for a cup of punch.”

He placed his hand at the small of her back and looked around for a servant with a tray of drinks. He wasn’t finding one. “I’m not ready to leave your side. I need to make up for all those evenings you attended these events alone.”

“I don’t feel lonely this evening. I feel like the Duchess of Camberly. And she is a very fortunate woman.”

If a white light had come down from heaven and shone on him, Matt could not have received a better blessing.

A voice inside him asked how easy it would be to whisper, I love you to this beautiful woman. A week ago, even that morning, he’d doubted love existed. But now? What if love wasn’t a grand, passionate, overwhelming emotion but a quiet serenity and a sense of peace? Such as what existed between Soren and Cassandra? Or Alice and Roland?

Could love be something as simple as helping his wife with her lacings?

Lady Bettina had struck up a conversation with Willa. She was quickly joined by two other young women. It was obvious they were attempting to curry Willa’s favor.

Unable to find a servant with a drink tray, Matt excused himself. “I will fetch a cup of punch,” he promised. Willa nodded and he was off.

The punch table was very busy. He was halfway to his destination, skirting the dance floor, when one of the Minotaur-dressed footmen bumped into him.

“Sorry, Your Grace,” the servant said, even as he slipped a small folded noted into Matt’s gloved hand. The Minotaur didn’t hesitate but kept on his way.

Curious, Matt moved toward the wall, away from prying eyes, and opened the letter—

The bastard was here?

Matt stared in shock at that signature written in an upright scrawl, and forgot about punch cups. Hardesty was contacting him—just as everything in Matt’s life was working to his benefit.

Just as Matt had come into money.

Did Hardesty think to blackmail him? For a second, Matt was tempted to ignore the summons.

He knew he could not.

Using his height to his advantage, he could see Willa was still busy with Lady Bettina. There was time for a brief, and brutal, encounter with Hardesty. Then he would pick up her cup of punch and return to her.

Matt pocketed the note and went in search of the side hall.

He stopped a servant, one not wearing a Minotaur head. “Where is the side hall?”

The servant explained that two halls ran parallel to the ballroom. One was the main hallway where the guests had entered the house. The other was quieter. The card rooms had been set up there. His Grace could not miss it. What the family called the side hall was off that hallway.

Matt had no trouble finding the card room. It was well marked and very busy.

He noticed his cousin George was sitting at one of the tables. They waved at each other. Willa’s mother was there as well, although he didn’t try to catch her attention.

Matt almost took a moment to tell George about the note, but then his cousin tossed several coins onto the table, and he reconsidered. George was serious when he played. He would not appreciate the interruption.

Matt found the side hall.

The note said the third door.

It was closed.

Matt stood outside it a moment and then didn’t bother to knock but barged right in, his fist doubled and his every nerve ready for anything.

The room was a small sitting room. A lamp burned on a table beside one of several chairs. It cast a warm glow around the dark green walls that gave the setting intimacy.

Standing on the far side, as if to keep the chairs between her and the door, was Letty Bainhurst. Golden, privileged, and exquisite in her beauty.

Matt was caught off guard.

She didn’t appear to be surprised. She acted as if she’d been waiting for him. With a glad cry, she ran toward him.