a man who had married an heiress. It hadn’t been easy at first when she’d told her friends of the marriage, but after meeting Adrian, they had all seen what made him so perfect. Murmurs of him marrying her for money quickly dissolved. On each of the last seven mornings, he woke well before dawn, thinking he had to get dressed and work, but each time she kissed him and pulled him back down into their bed. It would take time, teaching him to live a different life, but she would enjoy it.
He folded his paper and looked in her direction. “I thought I might adjust the hours of the staff, with your permission.”
“Oh?” This piqued her curiosity.
“I thought of shortening their hours but not reducing wages. We can afford it.” He proposed this carefully, respectful of the fact that the money he had access to came from Venetia’s inheritance. He was keeping to his word and treating their marriage as a partnership.
“As you have the most knowledge of that field, I leave that decision to you.”
Adrian relaxed and smiled at her, his expression peaceful. She’d never realized how tightly wound he had been until after they had married. He had become someone different, someone better—more relaxed and happier. Life in service had been hard, but now he had a chance to live more peacefully. It was only natural that he would wish to ease the load of the servants in his new home.
Their butler, Mr. Evanston, appeared in the doorway. “Sir, you have a visitor.” He came to the table and held out a silver tray with a calling card on it.
“I have a visitor?” Adrian exchanged a puzzled glance with Venetia before he picked up the card. The butler waited patiently as Adrian read the card. He paled and handed the card to Venetia.
“The Duke of Stratford? Your father’s here?” She reached across the table and touched his arm. “What do you wish to do?”
“I . . .” He shook his head. “I suppose it would be good to see him.”
“Do you wish for me to accompany you?” Venetia watched Adrian with concern. The pallor on his face was disconcerting. He’d been careful not to speak much of his father, or the rejection that had burned Adrian so deeply early in his life.
“Please come,” Adrian said without hesitation. “I will feel better if you are there.”
They told Evanston to show the duke into their drawing room, and then they joined their unexpected guest. The duke was tall and thin, but strong. He was in his late fifties and in many ways was a mirror of his son, with amber eyes and dark hair now streaked with gray at the temples. When he saw Adrian, he stilled his pacing and squared his shoulders.
“Thank you for coming to visit us, Your Grace,” Venetia began.
“Mrs. Montague,” the duke greeted formally, and then his gaze moved back to Adrian.
“Would you care to sit?” Venetia suggested. “I could have some tea brought in.”
Adrian and his father shared a long, silent look before the duke replied.
“If your husband has no objection, I would very much like that.”
Adrian waved at the chairs in the room. “Please, sit.”
The duke chose one and sat, and Venetia and Adrian took a pair of chairs facing him.
“I regret that this call comes so late,” the duke said. “I was unsure if I would be welcome, but Lady Latham recently visited me and gave me her assurance that you would agree to see me.”
“My grandmother visited you?” Venetia couldn’t help but wonder when her grandmother had done that. She had been spending more time out of the house now that Venetia was married. When Venetia had told her she didn’t need to leave them alone so often, her grandmother had stroked her cheek fondly and smiled with a twinkle in her eye and had said, “Trust me, my dear, you’ll look back on these early days with the fondest smile and it’s best that you have time alone with him before the babes arrive.”
The duke’s expression transformed to one of amusement.
“She reminded me that I am not a coward. Yet these last ten years I have been behaving very cowardly. Both of my other children did without hesitation what I failed to do, which is to welcome you into my life, Adrian.”
The duke swallowed hard. “I have made many mistakes—not marrying your mother, not keeping her at my home, not ever seeing you . . . not taking you in