A week had passed since he’d first seen her smile, and he’d seen it precisely three times since—all when she was in public at some event or other, and he saw them from a distance. They were never for him. Perhaps today would be different.

He realized he was nervous as he waited for her. He paced over the cobbled stones, darting glances toward the alley that led to the street. At last, she rounded the corner.

She strode toward him, the skirt of her riding habit flowing around her legs as she moved. Her costume was impeccable—and brand-new. She’d been busy remaking her wardrobe, and he’d paid every bill. Not only was that their agreement, he was happy to do it.

She looked marvelous in the rich blue color with its ornamental braiding in gold. But it was the shirt and cravat that drew his eye. Slightly masculine and yet wholly feminine. As was her jaunty hat, a black beaver that was simply smaller than a man’s and adorned with gold ribbon.

“Your new habit is stunning,” he said as she approached.

She brushed a hand—encased in a blue kid glove—over her skirt. “Thank you. I wasn’t sure if it was my style.”

“It suits you immensely.”

She looked at him expectantly, eagerly almost. He couldn’t tell if it was excitement simmering just beneath her carefully controlled exterior, but thought it might be.

“Now you just need a horse to ride.” He turned and nodded toward the groom before looking back at her. “I do hope you like her.” He pivoted so he could watch her as the groom led the animal out.

Her eyes widened, and her jaw dropped. “How?” She said nothing more as she moved slowly toward the beautiful white horse. “Pearl.”

The horse whinnied and nuzzled Emmaline as soon as she drew close. Emmaline put her arms around the horse’s neck and rested her face against Pearl’s, murmuring soft endearments.

Lionel watched, his heart expanding with joy.

When Emmaline lifted her head, he swore there were tears in her eyes, but she turned her focus to the horse. “How did you find her?” she asked, her voice raspy. “I never knew who bought her—Mr. Fuller took care of the sale.”

“He kept a record.”

“How did you manage to get her back?” She glanced at him, but it was brief.

“Everything can be had for a price. I’m glad to see you reunited.”

She looked at him then, her eyes bluer than he’d ever seen them. “No one has ever done anything like this for me. Thank you.”

No one? Given what he knew of her family and her worthless former husband, he oughtn’t have been surprised. Still, he was angry, especially when he thought of the pain it must’ve caused her to sell the animal in the first place. “You deserve it.”

Pearl nudged Emmaline with a soft whinny, and she responded by petting her neck. “In a moment, Pearl.”

“You like naming animals after precious jewels,” he said, thinking of her kitten, Jade. The cat occasionally visited him in his office, but she was absolutely Emmaline’s pet.

“They are precious. To me.” She touched his sleeve, startling him. “I…I can’t thank you enough. I was happy to get a horse, but to have Pearl back is beyond what I could have imagined.”

“You said you were happy.” He marveled at how far she’d come. “I’m glad.”

Her lips curved into an elusive smile, and his heart skipped. This one was for him, and he’d bask in it for some time to come. “Me too.” She looked back to her horse.

“Are you going to ride?” he asked.

“Most definitely.” She looked around. “Is there a block?”

“I can help you up.”

She hesitated but ultimately nodded.

He moved behind her and clasped her waist. She was so close. He inhaled her scent, lavender and something else that was specific to her. He wanted to pull her back against him, to feel the length of her along his body. But that wasn’t going to happen. Not now and likely not ever.

Likely?

Where was he getting his hope? Certainly not from her. Yes, she’d thawed a bit, but she’d given him no encouragement that the objective of their marriage had changed. She still wasn’t eating meals with him, nor was she speaking to him unless it was necessary.

But maybe today was a turning point. Maybe she’d let him make her smile more often. He could think of a thousand ways he’d like to try.

“Ready?” he asked.

“Yes.” She put her foot in the stirrup, and he lifted her. She swung her leg up and mounted with ease.

“I can already see you are quite accomplished.” He wanted to ride with her, but wouldn’t unless she invited him. “One of the grooms will accompany you to the park.”

She took up the reins. “Thank you.” She looked down at him, her gaze somewhat pensive. “I’m trying to understand why you did this.”

He shrugged. “Why wouldn’t I? You needed a horse, and when I learned you’d had one, I simply found her.”

“You’re saying it was easier than just going to Tattersall’s and buying a horse?”

Ease had nothing to do with it. If it had, he would’ve just gone to Tattersall’s. “Does it really matter? You have your horse back.”

“I just…I want to be clear. Our arrangement hasn’t changed. And I don’t expect you to buy me gifts. You don’t owe me extravagance.”

He scowled at her, wishing she’d just accept the horse and be done with it. “This isn’t extravagance. She’s your horse. Returned to you.” He sounded annoyed. Which he was, but not because she wasn’t accepting the horse—she was. He was annoyed because she wanted to reiterate the fact that their marriage hadn’t changed. He knew that, had just told himself that, in fact, but hearing it grated his temper.

He was being foolish. He took a deep breath and took a step back. “Enjoy your ride.”

She guided Pearl from the mews, and the groom followed.

He walked back to the town house, frustrated with himself for having unrealistic expectations. He hadn’t procured her horse with the intention of wooing her. He’d simply wanted to do something nice for her. Something that would make her happy.

And he’d accomplished that, so what was his problem?

He hoped for more, he realized. He wanted more. This marriage of convenience wasn’t very convenient for him.

Why was he attracted to her? It wasn’t as if he’d come to know her very well. However, what he had seen had tugged at his heart. She seemed lonely, as if she’d never found her place. Maybe she had for a while, with Townsend, but then Lionel had taken that away from her. So while he wanted to ease her plight, he didn’t really deserve to.

Damn, he was a broken mess.

* * *

Emmaline walked downstairs, nervous to be having breakfast with her husband for the first time since they’d married. As she reached the bottom, she stopped abruptly. Axbridge was waiting for her.

Garbed in a dark blue coat, buff breeches, and immaculately polished Hessians, he looked as if he’d just come from his morning ride, which he surely had. He was also mouth-wateringly handsome. She’d begun to realize that while avoiding him had been borne of her anger toward him, of late, it was more to do with her growing attraction to him.

“Good morning,” he said. “You look lovely.” His gaze dipped over her pale blue gown. “I was surprised—but pleased—that you wanted to dine together. Shall we?” He offered his arm.

She placed her hand on his sleeve. Lightly. The less she touched him, the better.

They walked into the dining room, and he seated her on his right. “I asked that we be placed close together. I hope that’s all right.”

No, she’d prefer to be at the opposite end, but she supposed that would be pointless. She’d arranged to dine with him so that she could speak with him about a matter of importance—a matter he’d required her to speak with him about.

He settled her in the chair and then sat, prompting the footman to begin serving breakfast from the sideboard.

“I hope you won’t mind that I typically prefer a simpler breakfast. Indeed, this is more formal than what I usually take in the sitting room upstairs before I go riding.”

“I don’t mind at all.” Simple likely meant less time spent together.

The footman served them cold ham and rolls, tending to Emmaline first.

She looked over at Axbridge. His blond hair glinted in the morning light filtering through the window behind her. “I want to thank you again for Pearl,” she said. “It’s so wonderful to have her back.”

“I’m pleased to hear it. Perhaps one day I’ll see you ride.”

She knew he rode every morning, and yesterday when he’d presented her with Pearl, she’d sensed he’d been waiting for an invitation to join her. She’d almost done it. In a moment of weakness provoked by his extreme kindness.

The footman served her a cup of chocolate and Axbridge coffee.

“I see you’re wearing my ring once more.” Axbridge nodded toward her left hand.

It had seemed the right thing to do since he’d gone to such lengths to regain Pearl for her. She adjusted the ring with her thumb and focused on the matter at hand. “I need to ask you for another sum of money to repay one of Geoffrey’s debts. It wasn’t in the accounting his secretary provided.”

“Do you have a copy of the bill?” He took a bite of ham.

“I do not. His tailor sent me a letter asking for the funds. He didn’t want to bother me after Geoffrey died—they were friendly, apparently, and he took Geoffrey’s death rather poorly.” She noted that a bit of color leached from Axbridge’s face, but plowed on. “When he learned I had remarried, he decided to ask for the outstanding debt. He’s in a bad position financially.”

“How much did Townsend owe?” Axbridge took a drink of coffee.

“Fifty pounds.”

Axbridge coughed and set his cup down so abruptly that it splashed a bit onto the tablecloth. “Forgive me. That is quite a lot for tailoring.”

“Yes, I suppose it is.”

He looked at her, his eyes slightly narrowed. “But there is no invoice?”

“Do you doubt the man?”

“I like to have receipts.”

She could understand that. “Then I shall ask him for one. In the meantime, I will not keep him waiting any longer—it’s been months.”

He returned his attention to his plate. “I can take care of paying him tomorrow.”

She was growing irritated. “No. I will take care of it. You need only give me the money. I’ve asked you for it, as you requested, and you agreed to cover all of Geoffrey’s debts.”

“Yes, I did.” He took another sip of coffee. “I’ll leave it in the sitting room in the morning. Unless you’d care to have breakfast with me again, but I think I know the answer to that.” He sounded annoyed. Good, she was too.

They ate in silence for a few minutes before Axbridge asked, “Are you attending the Fortescue ball later?” The question was polite and completely devoid of inflection.

“No.” She’d realized that one of the women she’d overheard talking at the Colne ball was Lady Fortescue. And Emmaline had no desire to encounter her again any time soon.

That conversation had occupied her mind over the past week as she’d struggled to accept that because of Axbridge she was free of debt and also free of Geoffrey. But with that sense of liberty came sadness and regret. She’d had such hope for her marriage. When she thought of how in love she’d been with Geoffrey when they’d eloped…

She turned her head to Axbridge. “Why did you challenge Geoffrey to a duel?”

Axbridge had just taken a bite of roll. He washed it down with a mouthful of coffee and took a moment to answer. “It was a matter of honor.”

“I’d like to know specifically what that matter was. I think I have a right to know.”

He leaned back against his chair and glanced over at her but didn’t maintain eye contact. He was clearly uncomfortable. Why?

“I was protecting a friend.”

“They couldn’t protect themselves?”

His eyes found hers then, and they were cool. “No. Don’t ask me to reveal their identity, because I won’t. Just as I can’t disclose the reason I called your husband out.”

“You don’t think I have a right to know?”

“No, I don’t.”

Anger flared through her. “You promised to give me whatever I wanted. I want to know why you challenged my husband.”

He stared at her calmly, further antagonizing her. “It is not my secret to give.”

“I am your wife.”

He tipped his head to the side, his mouth quirking up at the side. “I see.” He leaned toward her, resting his elbow on the table. “Do you really want to be my wife?”

She stared at him, fury roiling inside her. “What are you asking?”

He retreated, leaning back in his chair once more. “Nothing. We have an arrangement, and you can’t continue to demand things from me. Now, if you’ll excuse me.” He abruptly stood from the table and quit the room.

She stared after him, her anger fading to be replaced with consternation. What had just happened? Did he want a real marriage?

Well, that wasn’t going to happen.

She picked at her plate but didn’t eat much more. At length, she stood. As she made her way into the drawing room, she heard voices in the entry hall. She crept forward and saw Axbridge’s back. Tulk handed him his hat, then opened the door for him as he left.

She went into the hall. “Good morning, Tulk.”

The butler turned. “Good morning, my lady.”

“Where did his lordship go?”

“Out.”

Was no one in this household going to tell her anything specific? Frustration bunched her muscles. Turning, she went back through the drawing room and into his office. Jade was curled in front of the fireplace—it was one of her favorite spots—but lifted her head as Emmaline walked in. The cat stood and stretched, her back arching. She trotted over to Emmaline and brushed against her skirts.

Bending down, Emmaline scooped the kitten into her arms, stroking Jade’s back. The cat purred, calming her.

With serenity came clarity, and she cringed at what she’d said in the dining room. “You promised to give me whatever I wanted.” Yet she’d given him nothing.

He, on the other hand, had met every one of her demands and then some. He’d found her beloved horse and likely paid a decent sum of money for her. Just to make Emmaline happy.

Hell, maybe he did want a real marriage.

She, however, did not want that. She turned and strode from the room, anxious to get away from the imprint of his presence.

* * *

He was a fool.

Frustration and anger thrummed through Lionel’s frame as he strode the handful of blocks to Lady Richland’s. It was perhaps a trifle early to pay a call, but she’d forgive him.

He’d needed to escape his house, to put some distance between him and his infuriating wife. Just when he thought things might be improving, she’d reminded him that theirs was not a typical marriage.

He walked up the short flight of steps to the door, where his knock was immediately answered. The butler showed him to the upstairs sitting room. A few moments later, his hostess breezed into the room, her dark hair elegantly coiffed and her dove gray gown billowing about her ankles as she stopped just in front of him. She smiled widely. “Lionel. It’s so good to see you.”

He took a step toward her and kissed her cheek. “And you, Marianne. I’m sorry I didn’t come sooner. I’ve been, er, busy.”

“Getting married.” She arched a brow at him. “Come, let’s sit.” She took his arm and guided him to the settee near the windows that overlooked the street below.

They sank down to the cushions together, and she pivoted toward him. “I can’t believe you are wed. And to Lady Townsend of all people.”

He settled back against the settee and braced his arm on the back as he angled toward her. “I can hardly believe it either.”

Her brow shot up. “Indeed?”

He lifted a shoulder rather than elaborate.

Marianne shook her head. “I can’t begin to fathom how this transpired.”

“It’s a bit complicated. The rumors are rampant, I take it?”

She blinked, her lush, dark lashes fluttering briefly against her porcelain skin. She’d always been beautiful and had only grown more so over the years he’d known her. “Gossip is an insidious part of Society, though I do try to avoid it.”

Yes, she did, which was why he’d challenged Townsend in the first place. “You haven’t heard from anyone else with regard to Townsend’s scheme?”

“No, and since so much time has passed, I don’t expect to. I’ve no idea how he obtained his information, and I can only hope the secret died with him.”

“I’m glad you aren’t being further harassed.” The entire situation still unsettled him. “The how still troubles me, however. You told me that very few people are aware of what Townsend knew. I would like to know how he found out.”

“I admit it bothers me as well, but what can I do?” She lifted a shoulder and shook her head. “As I said, I can only hope the secret died with him.” She looked at him sharply then. “Do you think his wife, er, your wife, knows?”

Since she’d just asked him why he’d challenged Townsend, he had to assume she didn’t. “I’m fairly confident she doesn’t.” And he doubted she could help him determine where Townsend had obtained the information.

“Well, I suppose we’ll never know how he learned my secret. I shall cling to the hope that he took it to his grave.”

Lionel twitched at her words. If only Townsend had listened and agreed to leave Marianne alone.

He shook thoughts of Townsend and the duel away before they sucked him into melancholy. “How are you managing?” His gaze dipped to her gown. “No black widow’s weeds for you?”

Her answering smile was light, but her gaze was tinged with sadness. “Not for some time. It’s been nearly six months.” Her husband had died several weeks after Lionel had left London. “We’re fine. We miss Harold, of course, but I’m so glad he’s no longer in pain.”

Her husband had been plagued with poor health for most of their six-year union. Theirs hadn’t been a love match, but they’d grown to care for each other.

“I’m glad as well. You don’t need anything from me?”

She shook her head. “Not at present. You’ve been more than wonderful. If you hadn’t intervened with Lord Townsend, I don’t know what would’ve happened. I couldn’t pay what he demanded. Not without Harold finding out. I’m just so sorry things turned out the way they did.” She wrung her hands in her lap. “Townsend’s death weighs heavy on you, I’m sure.”

Lionel tensed, hating this topic. But Marianne had known him a long time, and she’d seen firsthand how the last duel had affected him. “I didn’t mean for it to happen.”

The duel with Townsend flashed in his mind, as it had a thousand times, but he didn’t tell her about it. Doing so would make it harder for him to consign the memory to the recesses of his mind. If he ever could.

Her expression creased with empathy. “Of course you didn’t. But how on earth did you end up marrying his widow?”

“It’s a marriage of convenience.” He saw the surprise in her eyes and added, “At her request.” To go into more detail seemed unfair to Emmaline. In fact, he ought not to have said anything at all. They hadn’t discussed how their marriage was to be presented, but he couldn’t imagine putting up a show for the ton, not when she could barely stand to be in the same room with him. “Please keep that between us.”

“Of course. So it’s a secret marriage of convenience?”

“Secret is maybe too strong a word. For now, we’re just trying to adjust.”

“Is there a chance it could become something more?” she asked. “Many marriages of convenience do.”

He resisted the urge to laugh, not with humor but with incredulity. “Definitely not.”

“I must admit, I’m sad to hear it. You deserve happiness—and love.” She touched his hand. “You’ve been such a good friend to me. If there is ever anything I can do to help you, I hope you’ll ask.”

He squeezed her hand. “I will.”

“Mama!” A small boy with bright blond hair and clear blue eyes dashed into the drawing room. He stopped beside his mother, clinging to her skirt, and fixed Lionel with a wide stare. “Who are you?”

“I’m a friend of your mother’s.” Lionel reached into his pocket and withdrew a small toy soldier. He held it out to the boy on his palm. “I hear you have an army. Would you like to add to it?”

The boy’s mouth formed an O. “It’s splendid.” He took the soldier from Lionel and brought it up to his face, studying the intricate details.

The boy’s nurse, a young woman with dark hair and a rather distinct crooked nose, came into the drawing room, her brow drawn with concern. “My apologies, my lady. I’m afraid he snuck away from the nursery again.”

Marianne chuckled. “It’s quite all right. As it happens, Lord Axbridge brought him a soldier, so his invasion is rather fortuitous—and welcome.”

The nurse looked relieved, her shoulders dipping a bit. She bobbed a curtsey to Lionel. “My lord.” She stepped forward and took the young Lord Richland by the hand. “Come, young man, back to the nursery we go.”

The boy dug his feet into the carpet and didn’t move. “Mama, when are you coming up?”

Marianne ruffled his blond hair and pressed a kiss to his forehead. “Soon, my love. Go with Deborah now.” She smiled encouragingly and the boy left with his nurse, but not without a great, beleaguered sigh. Oh, to be a child again with such simple concerns.

“Is it bothersome to you that he has blond hair and blue eyes?” Marianne asked softly. “Like you.”

“No. Beyond that, there’s no likeness.” But it had been enough for Townsend to threaten to tell everyone that Lionel was the boy’s father. They might have laughed it off if Lionel and Marianne hadn’t had an affair years ago. And if the boy had, in fact, been Richland’s son…which he was not.

“I will never forget your protection. You had no reason to help me. But I had nowhere else to turn. You are an incredibly honorable man.”

Yes, he was, and someday it might just be the death of him.

* * *

Emmaline glanced up at the gray sky as she made her way to Stanhope Gate. The clouds didn’t look quite dark enough to storm, and she hoped they would stay that way. After meeting with Mr. Mullens, she planned to promenade with Aquilla.

She arrived at the gate and looked around for the gentleman she sought. She’d met him on a few occasions after Geoffrey’s death, but wasn’t entirely sure she’d recognize him.

An impeccably garbed man wearing a purple waistcoat came forward. “Lady Axbridge, it’s lovely to see you again.”

Emmaline relaxed as she did indeed recognize the man. “Good afternoon, Mr. Mullens.”

They moved to the side of the gate.

He smiled, warming his thin, hawklike face. “Thank you so much for meeting me. I appreciate your quick response more than I can say.”

She’d written him a note this morning, saying she would meet him here at half past four. “Of course. I’m sorry you’ve had to wait so long for what’s owed you.” Axbridge’s questions rang in her head. “I must ask why there wasn’t an invoice. My late husband’s secretary detailed all the bills that had been received, but yours was not one of them.”

“I’m afraid your husband and I had a more casual business relationship.” He winced. “As I said in my note to you, we were friends, and I never imagined he wouldn’t be able to pay me. I was incredibly foolish. He always promised that he would settle my bill first, and I believed him. I gather he didn’t settle any of them?”

“So it would seem.” She really had no idea how deep Geoffrey’s financial troubles had run. Had he always been short of funds? She hadn’t thought so but had to accept she’d likely never know.

“I knew he’d lost a bit at the tables,” he said. “I suppose it was far more than he let on, even to me.”

Even to me. As if he would have more knowledge of the situation than Geoffrey’s own wife. She bristled—because he did have more knowledge. Emmaline hadn’t been aware of Geoffrey’s losses until after he’d died.

The tailor looked aghast. He brought his hand to his chest. “Forgive me, I didn’t mean to overstep. Your husband was very kind to me. When I started out a few years ago, he was one of my first clients and the highest-ranking. I owe him a debt of gratitude. That’s why I didn’t pursue him overmuch.”

“But now you find yourself in financial straits?” He’d hinted at that in his letter to her.

He nodded, his cheeks flushing pink. “I’ve been a bit too lenient with collecting payments, as you can see. I was terrified to ask you, actually. But Lord Townsend always spoke so highly of you…and now that you’re remarried…well, I took a chance that you could help me.”

“I intend to.” She withdrew the bank note Axbridge had left for her that morning. “My husband—the marquess—requires an invoice, so you’ll need to forward one as soon as possible?”

“Oh yes, of course. I’ll do it immediately.” He accepted the note and looked down at it. His eyes welled with tears. “Thank you, my lady.”

She could see he was overcome and was glad she’d been able to help him. “I do hope you’ll be able to recover.” Fifty pounds was a large sum, but she’d no idea if he’d have to turn around and use it to settle his own debts.

“I should, thank you.” He dashed his hand across his eyes and blinked. “Your kindness has me quite undone.”

“You are most welcome. I wish you the very best.” She smiled at him and then took her leave, walking into the park where she would meet Aquilla for a stroll.

Emmaline made her way to the foot path where Aquilla was waiting for her. The smile that had formed on her lips died a rapid death upon seeing the grave concern in Aquilla’s eyes.

“It looks as though something is wrong,” Emmaline said.

Aquilla looped her arm through Emmaline’s and began to walk. “I gather you didn’t read the Post today?”

“No.” Emmaline had browsed a different newspaper that morning. Her gut roiled in reaction to Aquilla’s clear distress. “Tell me.”

Aquilla swallowed and took a breath. “There was a piece that said Axbridge was seen visiting Lady Richland. It claimed yours was a marriage of convenience, and that he and Lady Richland are having an affair, continuing a liaison they began several years ago.”

An affair? Nausea stirred in Emmaline’s belly. She shouldn’t have cared. It wasn’t as if she and Axbrige had a real marriage. Whom he had affairs with—if he had affairs—was none of her concern. No, it shouldn’t bother her, and yet acid burned her insides.

She shrugged, affecting an air of nonchalance that she didn’t feel. “It doesn’t matter to me what he does.”

“I’m so sorry,” Aquilla said. “The least he could do is be discreet!”

I do not care. I do not care. I do not care.

They walked for a few moments in silence. Aquilla peered at her with uncertainty. “Are you sure you’re all right?”

No, but saying so would mean admitting something she didn’t even want to admit to herself—that thinking of Axbridge with another woman had gotten under her skin. It wasn’t that it was him, she told herself. It was that she wanted an intimate relationship for herself—but not with him.

Instead of baring her feelings, she said, “I think I’m coming to the realization that this marriage was a mistake. I should have found another solution.”

Aquilla looked at her askance. “You said yourself that there wasn’t one. You were out of time.”

It was easy to forget how desperate she’d felt then when confronted with how she felt now. And how was that? Again, she didn’t want to answer that question.

“That’s true. That doesn’t change the fact that this marriage is a disaster.” She looked at Aquilla, her chest tightening. “We didn’t fall madly in love, nor will we ever.”

Aquilla put her hand over Emmaline’s. “I’m sorry. What can I do?”

“Distract me.” Emmaline hurried them along the path so they could veer to the right and leave the Serpentine behind. “Tell me about Peregrine. What mischief is he causing now that he’s walking?”

Aquilla still looked concerned, but regaled her with stories of her son nonetheless. Emmaline was grateful for the diversion, even if it was only temporary. Later she would figure out what to do next, for things couldn’t continue as they were.