Page 17 of The Duke's Only Desire

Chapter Four

The sun wassetting in streaks of oranges and purples by the time the carriage turned into the yard of the posting inn where they would stay for the night. Shay’s shoulders relaxed, both at having the cover of darkness for their arrival and to be at an inn where he knew the innkeeper would provide clean rooms and not ask questions.

He helped Sophie from the carriage. She was exhausted from traveling, her body weary and her eyes marred by dark circles. At least he hoped the travel had caused it. He didn’t want to admit to himself that she might have been crying.

He escorted her toward the front door, leaving Pearson to fetch their bags. When they stepped inside the stone building and entered the common room where other travelers had gathered for supper along the long tables, a hush fell over the room as curious gawkers turned to stare. The same reaction happened every time he entered a public place, although the curious stares never lasted for long, not when the country was filled with men who had returned from the wars missing entire arms and legs. But he hadn’t yet grown used to the stares, and most likely never would.

He approached the bar. “Seamus Douglass,” he told the beefy man behind the bar, even though he was certain Mr. Greene would remember him. How could he have forgotten a man wholooked like him, even if the innkeeper had no idea he was a duke? “I’ve reserved private rooms for the night. Please ready them for us.” The coachman and tiger would make certain the team and carriage were cared for, and Pearson was capable of taking care of himself, especially if given the chance to spend the night in some barmaid’s arms. He placed a coin on the counter. “We’ll have dinner now.”

“Yes, sir.” The innkeeper snatched up the sovereign. “Right this way.”

He led them to a small but private dining room tucked away at the rear of the inn, promised to return with dinner, then left them.

Sophie’s eyes never moved from Shay as he helped himself to a glass of port from the tray on the side table. In the silence stretching between them, he could hear the muted conversations and drunken laughter coming from the common room and the gentlemen’s bar beyond. Once again, he felt a pull to join in on the revelry, missing the old days when he’d been able to drink, gamble, and joke with anyone in any tavern across Europe. Now, if he dared try that, the room would fall silent, and all the fun would die. Until he left.

A knock sounded at the door. “Come,” he ordered.

The innkeeper and his wife carried in a platter of food and left it on the table, along with a bottle of wine. The wife couldn’t help herself and stared at Shay, but Greene took her arm and hurried her from the room. “I’ll let you know when the room’s ready, shall I?” the man called out. “Hot water for a bath, too?”

“Yes, please,” Sophie answered gratefully before Shay could. “And thank you for all your attention, sir. I’m certain we’ll have a good night here.”

The man smiled at her compliment, then closed the door after himself. A welcomed silence once more settled over theroom, except for a mumbledthank youfrom Sophie as Shay held out her chair for her.

They served themselves and ate in silence, broken only by Shay asking if she wanted another glass of wine. She waved away the offer with a shake of her head, her eyes downcast at her untouched plate.

She was tired, he knew, as he cut a piece of roast beef on his plate and stabbed it with his fork. But she’d like the bedroom. It wouldn’t be luxurious, but the fire would be lit, her bag already placed at the foot of the bed, a bottle of port on the bedside table, and a hot bath waiting for her. It would offer a good night’s sleep before an early departure to—

“Who is Clara LePaige?”

Shay froze as her soft words reached him across the table, his fork pausing halfway to his mouth. Slowly, he returned it to his plate and eased back on his chair. He had expected more questions about why he’d married her, but he hadn’t expectedthis.

“How do you know that name?” he asked.

“Is she someone you love but cannot marry?” Her stormy blue eyes lifted from her untouched plate to meet his. “Is that why you settled for me as a wife because you cannot have the woman you love?”

He reached for his wineglass and studied her over the rim. Good God, where was he supposed to begin? This time, he knew, she wouldn’t be satisfied until she had answers.

“No,” he answered. “Mrs. LePaige is not the woman I’m in love with.”

Her slender shoulders lowered almost imperceptibly. “Then who is she? And what does she have to do with why you married me?”

He placed his napkin on the table beside his plate. “How much do you know about James Norton’s private life?”

“We were going to be married. He told me everything.”

Not even close.“You asked me in the carriage this afternoon why I would marry you the way I did.” He swirled the wine and watched the ruby liquid sheet down the sides of the glass. “Because I didn’t have another way of protecting you.”

“Because you wanted to save me,” she corrected softly.

A statement, he noted, not a question. Apparently, she’d been talking to Pearson.

“Save me from what?”

He took a swallow of wine and considered his words. “Norton had been asking around the clubs about you last fall. He had heard about the arrangement your grandmother made with Malvern and how big the promised dowry was.”

Most likely, he’d heard it from Shay’s uncle Malcolm. The man had never been happy that Shay had inherited the title, and he did whatever he could to stir up trouble. Shay wouldn’t have put it past Malcolm, in fact, to plant the seed in Norton’s ear of marrying Sophie, just to cause Shay pain. After all, Malcolm had been the one last fall who had gleefully told Shay that Norton planned to marry Sophie, most likely because Malcolm thought there was nothing Shay could do to stop the marriage.

Once again, his uncle had been wrong.