Read Online Duke and His Duchess by Grace Burrowes - Free Book Online

over a glass of hearty red wine—she preferred white, but somebody had mixed up the menus, so a roast of beef had been served instead of fowl.
    “Have another bite, my dear.” She obligingly nibbled from the fork he proffered. “Did you enjoy the outing to the park today?”
    “I did, and I think the boys did too, very much.” She had enjoyed most of it, despite the chill. She was also enjoying her husband’s attentions, which had been marked throughout the meal. “Is there a reason we’re dining in our chambers, Percival?”
    “Tony and Gladys sought some privacy.”
    This had the ring of an improvised untruth. Tony and Gladys found privacy throughout the day, and sometimes didn’t bother to find privacy when they ought. Esther munched another bite of perfectly prepared beef and cast around for a way to brace her husband on the day’s events.
    “And what did you find to do with yourself today, Percival?”
    He studied the next bite of beef skewered on the silver fork. “This and that. Have you given any more thought to consulting a physician?”
    “I have not.” Nor would she, not when all that ailed her was a crushing fatigue and a passing touch of maternal melancholia. “You’re neglecting your meal, sir.”
    He studied braised carrots swimming in beef juices. “Peter has not left his chambers since we departed for Town. He doesn’t come down for meals.”
    Esther’s ire at Percival’s mention of a physician faded. She spoke as gently as she could. “Hectoring me to see a doctor will not restore your brother’s good health, Husband.”
    He sat back, his expression unreadable. “Will you come riding with me tomorrow? Take a short turn in the park at midday?”
    He was up to something, though Esther had no idea what. Percival worried about Peter, about the duke, about the infantry in the colonies, and about the king’s health.
    And her husband worried about her.
    “Of course, I’ll ride with you, weather permitting.” She’d be in the saddle by midday if she had to be carried to the mews. “Have you given any more thought to a seat in the Commons?”
    That was stab in the dark, because no matter how she studied him and reviewed the day’s events, Esther could not fathom what burr had gotten under Percival’s saddle. Peter had taken to his bed before, and Arabella jollied him out of it eventually.
    They finished the meal in silence, and when the dishes had been removed, Percival confirmed Esther’s suspicion that he was pursuing some objective known only to him—for now.
    “I’m for bed, Wife. You will join me?”
    She’d like nothing better, unless it was to have an honest answer from him regarding his present preoccupation. Not until they were in bed, side by side and not touching, did it occur to Esther that her husband might be feeling guilty.
    Last night might have resulted in conception—it probably had, in fact. They were that fertile—that blessed—as a couple.
    “Percival?”
    “My dear?”
    “Do you regret last night?” She could ask that in the dark. She could not ask him what was wrong and what she could do to help him with it. Beneath the covers, she felt his fingers close around her hand.
    “I could never regret making love to my wife.”
    Another prevarication, though not exactly an untruth. Esther rolled against his side, hiked a leg over his thighs, and felt his arms encircle her. She remained silent, and that was a form of prevarication too.
    What Esther wanted to say, the words that were burning to fill the darkness of that bedroom, had to do with a single, sharp moment etched into her memory from their visit to the park.
    Cecily O’Donnell had emerged from her coach when the boys had vanquished a patch of ice along the Serpentine bank. She had towed a small child with her. A girl sporting hair as red as Mrs. O’Donnell’s was revealed to be beneath her striking green caleche.
    Esther had been helpless not to watch as the solemn child had regarded Bart and