They were returning to the house when a figure on horseback cantered into view. She recognized the rider; this was Reynolds, the estate manager. He was unconscionably early. Did he really expect Alexander to be so eager to see him?

“Reynolds is upon us, my dear. I sent a message for him to come first thing. I wish to spend a full day examining the improvements and arranging for anything further that needs to be done. I’ve been delinquent in my duties; I shan’t be so in future.”

“So you’re not going to ring a peal over both of us? That’s a great relief, I can tell you. I feared that you might …” her voice trailed away and she swallowed the bile that rose in her throat. Just thinking about that awful night made her feel unwell.

“Isobel, what I did to you was unforgivable. I know that, but I’ve given you my word whatever the provocation I shall never be unkind to you again.”

She glared at him. “Provocation? It is I who is more likely to be provoked.”

He grinned and raised his hand as if he thought to touch her, then thought better of it as she frowned. “I know—you’re perfect in every way. How could I think that there was even the remotest possibility you would do anything to irritate me?” He released her arm, nodded, and strolled across the turning circle to greet his visitor.

Mollified by his good humour she went in her optimism renewed that somehow they could get through the next few hours without unnecessary aggravation. However, the quicker his business was completed the better. For all his protestations she was not entirely comfortable in his company. He would not manhandle her; whatever he had been in the past he was not untruthful or given to making false promises. The danger lay in his ability to soften her resolve.

He was out all day and returned only as darkness fell. To hear him chatting companionably to the footmen he met in the vestibule was a revelation. If he continued to improve in this way she would no longer recognize him as the man she’d married. Perhaps she would make more of an effort to be civil; after all, only Mary and Sam knew why she had left him. She had no wish for her staff to believe she was being curmudgeonly.

She reached the door as he prepared to ascend the heavy oak staircase. “Alexander, I shall join you for dinner tonight, I would dearly like to know what you thought of the improvements.”

“I shall look forward to it, my dear. Do you wish me to put on my evening rig?”

Surprised he should ask for she could not remember an evening when he hadn’t appeared in formal attire and she worn an evening gown. “I should much prefer to eat in the small dining room and not have to change at all.” She smiled wryly. “In fact I don’t have anything suitable to wear at the moment. I haven’t bothered to alter my grand ensembles.”

“Excellent.” He pointed at his mud spattered clothes and laughed. “However, I can assure you that I shan’t reappear in disarray.”

He took the remainder of the stairs two at a time. How could she not be aware that his physical appearance had improved over these past months? His eyes were clear and no longer bloodshot. His toast-brown hair was shining with health and he moved with a vigour he’d not displayed before. She giggled at the thought that he was becoming thinner and trimmer as she was doing the exact opposite.

Mary appeared in answer to her ring. “I wish to have dinner served in the small dining room. Make sure Cook does not serve an elaborate meal, we are not dressing for dinner.”

“Do you wish to eat at the usual time, my lady?”

“No, we will dine at half past five; that will allow the duke plenty of time to bathe.”

Bill, now referred to as Mr Brown by all the staff, rang the gong at the appointed hour.

Isobel walked towards the door. She was hungry and didn’t wish to waste further time dawdling in the drawing-room. Alexander hurtled down the stairs obviously as eager as she to get to his meal. He was dressed as before, but this time in a dark-blue, superfine jacket, navy blue waistcoat and skintight unmentionables. Her eyes were held by the muscles in his thighs. She could not drag her gaze away.

Aware of her scrutiny he paused and his eyes blazed with that all too familiar fire. This would not do—she would not let herself be bamboozled into acquiescence. She was made of sterner stuff nowadays, was her own woman and had no intention of allowing him to breach the walls she had erected around herself.

“I am famished, my dear. You might remember I did not come in for breakfast and had no time to stop for mid-day refreshments.”

“Good heavens! I’m surprised you did not come to grief galloping all over the countryside with nothing inside you.”

He laughed. “As I keep telling you, Isobel, I am not the man you married. That degenerate is no longer me. I am returned to the fellow I once was. I am hoping you’ll one day come to see me as my true self.”

She stiffened. Did he really believe his reformation could possibly remove the scars of that night? “Dinner is waiting, my lord. I don’t as a rule, serve wine, but I’ve asked Brown to fetch some claret from your wine cellar next door.” She waited for him to tell her he no longer drank, instead his eyes twinkled.

“I am reformed, but not become a Puritan, my dear. I drink in moderation as any gentleman should.”

“I did not know that imbibing alcohol was a prerequisite for being a gentleman, my lord. However, I am always ready to learn from an expert.”

Content in his company she led the way to the small dining room she used in preference to the larger chamber which seated more than twenty around the oak table. The evening passed without discord and she returned to her chambers pleased she had been able to enjoy his friendship without being beguiled by his charm.

He had assured her he was leaving the day after tomorrow and would remain in town for the season. Whilst he was there he would speak to his lawyers and have them arrange the settlement. Her family would think this a disgraceful arrangement, even her aunt and uncle would be shocked to the core by her desertion.

In May, two months before the baby was due, he would reopen Newcomb and take up residence next-door. Everything was working out as she’d hoped and when the baby was six months old she would be able to take her leave and move to whatever small estate Sam had found for her. She must also arrange for Sam dispose of Home Farm; she would never return there.

Her digestion rebelled the following day and she was unable to leave her bed chamber. Alexander sent his commiserations and hoped she would be well enough to speak to him before he left the next morning. Sam asked to see her that afternoon and, as she was now sitting in her parlour, she agreed.

“My lady, his grace has just called me in to speak to him; he told me I’m to start looking for a suitable estate for you. Have I mistaken the matter? Are we not to stay here permanently?”

“No, my life is no longer here. Once Newcomb is occupied by the duke it will be untenable to remain here. It’s far better I make a new start somewhere else.”

He looked away and his cheeks coloured. “I beg your pardon for questioning your decisions, your grace. I believe there are more than a dozen estates held by his grace, do you wish me to visit all of them?” His tone was formal, his expression sad.

Should she tell him he was mistaken, that the estates he was to look at were not those owned by her husband? It might be better to leave him in ignorance. “I haven’t thought about it. You can be sure I shall inform you in good time. Do you know if Rochester has approved all the changes made on the estate these past few weeks?”

“His grace did not see fit to discuss the matter with me.”

“Thank you for coming to see me, Sam. If there is nothing further you wish to speak to me about, you may go.”

She must get accustomed to disapproval. If even her dear Sam thought she was wrong she might find it difficult to re-establish herself elsewhere. She would be obliged to be known by her title and not revert to Mrs Baverstock. Abandoning her husband was beyond the pale, to do the same to her child would not be forgiven by Society. It would break her heart to do so but Alexander would never allow her to take the baby with her. No doubt he was relying on her maternal instincts to make her change her mind.

Feeling more the thing next morning she was up and about in time to take a walk. She half expected him to join her and was disconcerted to find herself disappointed he did not. At a little after eight o’clock she returned. Breakfast would be waiting and, after her enforced fast yesterday, she was more than ready to eat.

“Good morning, Isobel, I’m glad to see you’re fully recovered. Why don’t you sit down and let me serve you?” Alexander put down his cutlery and stood up at her entrance.

“Thank you, I am famished. Tell me, what’s under the covers this morning?”

The meal was accompanied by light-hearted banter. How pleasant it was to have someone to talk to, especially when her companion was so amusing. “What time do you intend to leave?”

“My horse is being saddled. Duncan will follow with my baggage in the carriage. Promise me, my dear that you’ll send for me if you have a problem of any sort.”

“Of course I will. Perhaps you’ll come down and tell me when matters have been arranged by your lawyers?”

“I shall write to you.”

She was tempted to ask him to leave things to her but he was smiling at her openly, was making a kind gesture nothing more. “That would be most helpful, I thank you, sir.”

*   *   *

Alexander forced himself to eat heartily. He was damned if he would let her see how much her formality was hurting. He pushed his plate aside and stood up. “Pray don’t disturb yourself, my dear, finish your meal. Remember—send a message to Grosvenor Square if you need me.”

He bowed and strode from the room without a backward glance. He nodded to the butler and walked out into the crisp, cold morning. It had been purgatory to be so close and not able to touch her, to show her how much he loved her. One thing was certain—Gloria would never get her claws into him. If he could not make love to his wife he would remain celibate. Seeing her again had served to reinforce his decision and confirm his love for her.

He swung into the saddle, his two grooms did likewise, and he urged Rufus into a canter. As he rounded the curve in the drive a carriage turned in. God’s teeth! What was Bentley doing here? Had he not told the young man to remain where he was for a week? The last thing he wanted was for Isobel to meet him. Time enough for Bentley to know there was a child if the infant turned out to be a boy.

The coach rattled to a halt and he leant down to speak to Bentley through the window. “You have to turn round—I wanred you I would not be here more than a day or two. I shall wait for your vehicle. We can stop for refreshments together in an hour or two.”

“I say, my lord, I do beg your pardon. I set off at first light determined to arrive before you left. It would be a shame if I did not meet your duchess now I am here.”

There was almost desperation in his words. Had something untoward occurred in Town that he was fleeing from? Even if that were so, Alexander could not risk a premature meeting between Isobel and his putative heir.

“Lady Isobel isn’t receiving.” He glared and Bentley hastily withdrew his head. The coachman looked down expectantly. “Mr Bentley will be returning forthwith—will your cattle take a double journey?”

“I doubt it, your grace, not without a couple of hours rest. Mr Bentley insisted we travelled at a spanking pace. The beasts are all but done.”

Alexander frowned. Yes, there was a solution to this. The unwanted guest could return with Duncan and this carriage could remain here until the animals were rested. “Bentley, you must travel back with my valet. His carriage is about to leave.”

The dark heard emerged nervously. “I shall do that, of course, your grace. At what hostelry are we to meet? You must not keep your stallion waiting whilst I transfer my belongings to the other vehicle.”

This was a reasonable suggestion. “The Green Man—you follow the toll road and I shall cut across country.”

He saw the other carriage appear behind him. Excellent, it should not take long for the exchange to take place. He could leave knowing he had avoided a potentially difficult situation.

*   *   *

Isobel was in the entrance hall when she heard carriage wheels outside. Goodness, who could this be? Duncan had already departed and he was not likely to have forgotten anything. He was the most frighteningly efficient gentleman’s gentleman. She hurried to the window and looked out making sure she could not be seen from the turning circle. A young man descended. He looked vaguely familiar but she was certain no one of her acquaintance would appear on her doorstep with a sky blue jacket and a pink and gold waistcoat.