A Regency Lord's Command: The Disappearing Duchess / The Mysterious Lord Marlowe. Anne Herries

woke and slid his hand across the bed. Lucinda was not there and the sheets were cold. She must have risen some time earlier. Her perfume lingered and haunted him, but he wanted to find her warm soft body lying close to him, to make love to her again in that first luxuriously sleepy moment after waking. He knew that she was still nervous of the act of love, which was understandable after what had happened to her, but she had responded to his touch. Little did she know what it had cost him to refrain from taking his own pleasure of her. He was not sure how long he could control his need to bury himself in her sweet warmth, but perhaps she might be ready to accept him next time?

      Rising, he went into the dressing room. She was not there, but he thought that a cloak she had left lying over a chair had gone. Where was she? It was not yet eight o’clock.

      Had she gone for one of her long walks? He was thoughtful, edgy and frustrated as he went through his own dressing room into his bedchamber, his mind beginning to search for answers to so many questions. What did Lucinda do on her walks? She had mentioned meeting Andrew Lanchester on more than one occasion, but did she go to meet him or someone else? Did she have a lover? Was that why she had lain unresponsive, not rejecting his touch, seeming to welcome him and yet giving little of her inner self?

      Justin had been patient with her. He did not wish to hurt her after the torment she must have endured the night she was raped. He had refrained from the final act because he wanted her to welcome him with no reserves. It would be wrong to force her when she was clearly not ready.

      Perhaps he should have waited longer before attempting to make it a true marriage? Watching her at the ball had made him realise how much he wanted her, but he had expected too much. Women had always been eager and responsive to his touch, but Lucinda had suffered in a way that most could not contemplate.

      He was a clumsy fool. If he wanted the shy trusting girl he had wed to return to him, he must be gentle with her. He must take his time, court her and make her love him again. He must curb his impatience and think of her needs, not his own, because he cared for her more than he’d realised. He’d been angry and harsh because he was disappointed in her lack of trust when she ran away. Now he must curb his temper and show his wife that he admired and cared for her; he must teach her to love him, but slowly and with infinite care.