Talbot was secretly pleased by the claim his wife felt she had on him, because deep down, he felt the same. He still hadn’t forgotten that Harding (known asthat swainin Colin Talbot’s mind) had dared to touch the lips that were Colin’s.
Instead of further examining that thought, however, he leaned over and kissed those very lips feverishly and passionately until, sated and happy, he and his wife once more fell asleep without a shred of clothing on their bodies.
The next morning, Duke Talbot had to agree with his wife – waking up together was far more pleasant than waking up alone. When he woke up at the inn, he was too overcome by joy that the long, cold days of being denied her company were over to pay attention to sleeping arrangements.
My wife,he thought, still slightly surprised at the realisation.
Talbot’s body knew and recognised that the sleeping form next to him not only belonged to him but was also a part of him, even though his rational mind still occasionally returned to the old image of his ideal duchess he had constructed in his mind a long time ago.
But she is ideal in a way, isn’t she?He thought as he stretched thoroughly, feeling all the tightness in his limbs ease and retreat.I need to arrange a fight with Edward one of these days,he thought as he turned to the side where his wife was sleeping.
In that moment, it didn’t matter who either of them was. He was just a man, gazing with amusement at his well-spent lover who was sleeping so soundly that a trail of saliva was sliding from her half-open mouth.
He got up as quietly as possible to avoid disturbing her, and, without retrieving his discarded nightshirt, went into his ownroom to don a dressing gown. Stevenson was already waiting in the well-aired dressing room, and Talbot gave himself over to the familiar ritual of bathing and then carefully and unhurriedly putting on item after item of his attire until he felt ready to start the day.
Duke Talbot had been trained to keep his face impassive from a young age, and the very few episodes of him struggling to do so were always connected to his wife in some way. He was certain she was somehow able to intuit that and was doing everything in her womanly power to tempt him into breaking both decorum and his composure.
For instance, when he greeted her at breakfast later that morning, she smiled so widely and so brightly that a bystander might have thought she had returned from a voyage and laid eyes on her long-lost husband. Those eyes of hers glinted mischievously, like she was daring Colin to remember gazing into them while he was thrusting into her.
Then, as he moved aside to let her pass to the table, she made sure to brush against him in a manner that could only be described assuggestive. And enticing. And nymph-like. And then she had the audacity to simply sit down and begin commenting on the “cook’s wonderful sweets.” Talbot didn’t understand her.
The entire day had been filled with seemingly innocent gestures that threatened to unravel him. His wife was apparently unable to walk next to him without brushing the back of her hand against his. Mercifully, at some point she went to tour the kitchens and pantry with Mrs Hughes, so he was able to finally concentrate on his work.
And why doesn’t she ever wear her gloves? he thought, annoyed. He was compelled to abandon his correspondence in order to go in search of her, just to make sure she’d wear gloves for the outing he had planned for them later. He resisted the impulse for some thirty minutes, until he could no longer pretend he was reading Nicholas’s letter.
When he arrived at the kitchen doors, he heard his wife’s unbridled laughter inside. He’d need to talk to her again. He heard her being equally unrestrained with her maid, Mary. A duchess could not display suchunderbredbehaviour. Talbot felt himself grow agitated, angry even.
He entered the kitchen, and all the women seated at the big table rose. Elizabeth gave him that ridiculous, admiring,there-is-my-long-lost-husbandlook again, and instead of lashing out like he’d wanted to, Talbot found himself asking her (in a very stern and dukely voice, he felt), “Are you ready to head out?”
They sat next to each other in the phaeton as Talbot drove them around his estate, revelling in her curiosity about each and every aspect of managing it.
“So Mr. Smith is the gamekeeper, Mr. Brandon is the steward, and Mr. Jacobs is the head gardener?” She slowly listed, trying to memorise everyone’s name and role.
“Yes.”
“Alright, please continue.”
“As I was saying, Mr. Smith has only recently managed to increase the numbers of deer and other game, since we relied on them so heavily during the years of recovering fromThe Year Without a Summer.”
“Thank God you and your people had that food source available. I remember how terrible it was in certain parts of the city,” Lizzie shuddered visibly.
“I was still a relatively new duke at that point. After my father’s death, it took me a few years to learn the details of estate management and to get used to my duties. Then, suddenly, I was faced with an enormous crisis that was beyond my control. It was a frightening time,” Talbot admitted.
“The cost of food rising due to the corn tariffs probably didn’t help either.”
“The Corn Lawsactually helped my estate recover, since they favoured domestic producers.”
“They may have helpedyou, but I remember everyone around me cursing and complaining about the rising food prices,” Elizabeth said bitterly.
They remained quiet as they drove into the town, on separate sides of the fence once again.
“Why is everyone staring and whispering?” she asked her husband as he helped her out of the carriage.
“You’re their new Duchess. It’s natural that they should be curious.”
“Oh, I thought that maybe…” She broke off, and Talbot looked down into her face.
“What did you think?”
