Free A Matter of Temptation by Lorraine Heath Page B

I know every hallway, every chamber.”
    “I look forward to sharing it with you,” Robert said, his response paltry, hardly significant. Knowing that she knew little about him didn’t help his situation at all, because in some ways it increased his likelihood of making a misstep. The fewer details she knew, the more likely she was to have a clearer memory of them.
    She seemed disappointed in his answer, and he could hardly blame her. She was so vibrant, so alive that he felt very much like a corpse sitting on the seat opposite hers.
    Her traveling clothes were dark green. Perched jauntily on her head was a little hat with a feather slanting off to the side. Her hair was piled up beneath it. He wanted to reach out and touch her hair, touch her cheek, touch her. But he feared one touch wouldn’t be enough, would never be enough.
    “I would like to invite Diana to join us, once we’ve settled into marriage.”
    “Of course.”
    “Do you think she and John would get along?”
    “I hardly think so.”
    “Really? Why?”
    Because he would have chosen her from the start if he had an interest in her .
    “Living in America, he no doubt has come to appreciate a lady with a more uncivilized nature.”
    “Trust me. Diana can be most uncivilized when she sets her mind to it. Just this morning she was goading Mother with nonsense about never marrying.”
    “Why do you consider her never wanting to marry as nonsense?”
    “Because it is a woman’s purpose in life—to seek out a favorable marriage.”
    “So by marrying me, you’ve achieved your purpose.”
    She looked up at the coach’s ceiling. “I don’t believe I’ve ever poked my foot into my mouth as much as I have today.” She lowered her gaze to him. “No, marrying you wasn’t my purpose in life. My purpose”—She furrowed her brow. “I’m not really sure exactly what my purpose is. Perhaps to be a good wife, an exemplary mother, a charming duchess.’
    “Then I have no doubt you shall achieve your goals with tremendous success.”
    “I never realized you had such faith in me.”
    “I wouldn’t have taken you to wife otherwise.”
    He was beginning to lose sight of whichthoughts were his and which were attempts to utter sentiments he thought his brother might. He didn’t want to be a reflection of John.
    “After we sit for our official portrait, we shall have to have a smaller copy made for John,” she said.
    “Our official portrait?”
    She smiled indulgently at him. “Yes. You’d told me that shortly after their marriage every duke and duchess has a portrait painted to hang in the family gallery.”
    “Ah, yes.”
    “And you want us to have ours done very soon, since we’re now the Duke and Duchess of Killingsworth.”
    “Very soon,” he murmured, “but not immediately. I’ve never enjoyed standing for portraits.”
    Besides, no sense in having her portrait done when it would not long hang in the gallery. He couldn’t promise that she would remain the duchess. As a matter of fact, she probably wouldn’t. The vows she’d spoken today had been for another man, and Robert wouldn’t hold her to them.
    “It is a rather boring endeavor, isn’t it?” she asked. “And I know you detest being bored.”
    A trait he and his brother shared. And there was nothing except boredom within Pentonville.
    “I fear even Witherspoon finds it a challenge to assist me with my morning routine, as I’m notone to stand idle for long,” he said, rather pleased with himself because he’d managed to learn the name of his valet.
    He’d had a stroke of brilliance after they’d arrived at his London home so they could transfer from the carriage to the coach. He’d called out all the servants and insisted that each be introduced to the duchess, while he simply walked along beside her, making note of the names as the butler introduced each one. His valet was Witherspoon—a good thing to know since Witherspoon was accompanying him to the estate, traveling