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urgently that they were both moaning, because that made her feel like a bit of paper about to go up in flames.
    Though she hadn’t, of course.
    And now she was a married woman on the very first morning of her married life. Which meant, among other things, that she would never wear a string of pearls, or a ruffle, or a white dimity gown again in her life.
    Amélie had carefully draped Theo’s monstrosity of a wedding dress over a chair. She climbed out of bed and wandered over to take a look. It was the last, the very last, piece of clothing that her mother would have the pleasure of choosing for her. That, if nothing else, deserved a celebration. With a grin, Theo pushed open the tall windows looking down onto the formal garden that stretched behind the Duke of Ashbrook’s town house, and snatched up the gown.
    At that moment there was a brisk knock, and the door between her and James’s bedchambers opened. He was fully dressed in his riding habit, complete with boots and a whip, and she was barefoot in her negligee, her hair loose and billowing down her back.
    “What on earth are you doing?” he asked, nodding at the wedding gown in her arms.
    “Throwing this horror out the window.”
    He reached her shoulder just in time to watch it fall. The top layer caught a little wind on the way down. “I hope that wasn’t a symbolic representation of your attitude toward our marriage?”
    “Even if it were, it’s too late,” Theo said. “You’re too heavy for me to tip out the window. Just look at that. It looks like a drunken meringue.” The dress settled with a flourish of lace on top of the boxwood hedge below.
    “I suppose there’s no call to wear such a thing more than once,” James commented, a familiar note of wry amusement in his voice.
    Theo felt a wash of relief. If they could just go back to being themselves, to being comfortable together rather than all this . . . this hotness and awkward feelings, it would be so much more agreeable to be married.
    “I intend to change the way I dress,” she said, grinning at him. “I may throw everything I own out this window.”
    “Right,” James said. He sounded utterly uninterested.
    “Including the garment I’m wearing at the moment,” she said with distaste.
    At that his face brightened a little. “Do you intend to toss your negligee this minute? I could help you disrobe.”
    Theo grinned at him. “Fancy a look at your bride in the daylight, do you?”
    But he had a little frown between his brows. Theo had to stop herself from reaching up to soothe his forehead. “What’s the matter?” she asked instead.
    “Nothing.” The corner of his mouth twitched, so she reached out a finger and touched him there, just enough to make it clear that she knew his expressions so well that lying to her was of no use. Then she leaned back against the windowsill and crossed her arms, waiting.
    “I was wondering if you could spend a few hours with me and Mr. Reede, the estate manager, before luncheon.”
    “Of course. How can I help?”
    “My father has turned over the estate to me. After my ride, I’m going with Reede to the docks, as we have a ship there, but we should be back in an hour or two.”
    “Your father did what?” Theo repeated, scarcely believing her own ears.
    James nodded.
    “How in the bloody hell did you talk him into that?” she demanded.
    A ghost of a smile touched his lips. “I asked your mother to insist on it in the marriage contract. She understood absolutely; she’d heard about various rash investments of his.”
    “But you never said anything about that to me! Nor did my mother!”
    “I had made Father promise that I would inherit the estate on my marriage, rather than on his death. But I wasn’t sure he would actually follow through unless it was legal. Your mother was entirely in agreement, so she played along.”
    Theo nodded. “And she specified that you had to bring me into conversation about the estate.”
    “No, she said