The Inconvenient Duchess

impossible. Sometimes it strengthens a marriage to see the worst and find the sweetness of happiness later. Thus I’ve decided to visit London for a few weeks and leave you alone to become accustomed to your surroundings. The house is yours; do with it as you please. The staff, also, is yours to command. I think you will find that there are advantages to a title and an estate that might make up for the sad deficiencies in the character of its owner.
    Take two weeks alone, and use it to rest from your journey and adjust to your new home before we begin anew. I will do my best to leave my temper in the city and return to you a contrite and respectful husband.
    And, if still you decide that you wish to return home, we will arrange it when I get back. There should be no trouble procuring an annulment, as I have absented myself from the marriage bed and left you your honour.
    Until my return, your husband,
    Marcus Radwell, Duke of Haughleigh
    He sealed the letter and left it for a maid to place at the breakfast table in the morning. Then he rang for his valet and made quiet and succinct instructions for the carriage to be readied and the grooms to be woken.
    And, last, he took the letters his mother had received from the mysterious Lady Cecily. Two weeks away should be time enough to find her direction and gather information on his new bride.

Chapter Seven
    T he day dawned uncomfortably bright and early, and Miranda pulled the hangings shut against it. After her visit from the duke the previous evening, she was at a loss as to what she could possibly say in the morning. No doubt her bags were packed and waiting for her in the entrance hall. But would he think to arrange transportation, or assume that she could purchase a ticket from her own funds?
    She laughed bitterly. As if there were such a thing. Her purse had been emptied by the trip to Devon, and showed no signs of magically filling itself for the return trip. And if she should return, where would she go? Her father had made it quite clear that there was to be no turning back from this course, and while the parting had been sweet, she knew he was sincere in his desire to get rid of her, for her own safety and his peace of min
    Unless she abandoned all pride and made a living on her back, as more than one nobleman had suggested. And what fool thought it better to be the whore of a rich man then to be a wife?
    There was nothing for it. This morning, she would seek out her husband and throw herself on his mercy, such as it was. If she ate nothing else today, it would be her words of the previous evening.
    ‘Your Grace, are you up?’ Polly poked her head between the curtains and offered her the tea tray. ‘I was wondering if you’d like to eat downstairs this morning. Cook says there’ll be something in the breakfast room. Not what you’re used to, I’m sure, but a bit better than you’ve been having.’ The tea was at least warm today, and she hoped that this was a sign of things to come. She took a small sip and felt a wee bit better.
    ‘His Grace told me that you’d no doubt be tired this morning, and that I was to make sure you had plenty of sleep and a decent breakfast, if I had to stand over you and force it in,’ she said, proudly.
    ‘He did, did he?’ She considered refusing to eat, but reminded herself of her promise of a few minutes ago. ‘And what else did he have to say?’
    ‘That you’d know what you wanted to do, and that you was the mistress of the house now, and I was to help you in any way, but to make sure that you ate and rested. And then he was in the carriage and gone.’
    ‘Gone?’
    ‘Last night, after midnight. He was off to London and then Lord St John was back from wherever he goes. It was busy as the courtyard of the inn here.’
    ‘St John, back?’ She tried not to let the relief show in her voice. Perhaps he could help her understand the actions of her husband.
    Polly helped her to dress and she crept down the stairs towards breakfast, then stopped herself halfway. Why was she hesitating? This was her house. Her stairs. Her servants.
    Well, not really hers. Her husband’s, perhaps, until he came back from where ever it was he went. Probably with the necessary paperwork for an annulment if such was necessary, since she’d assumed she would have to sign some sort of licence and it hadn’t happened yesterday. She was sure of that fact. Well, reasonably sure. The day had gone by so fast, and she’d been so