Chapter 2

Anne's POV

A chill crept up my spine.

The moment I heard the butler announce the word "Duke," I dared not turn around.

Standing behind me now was Edward's uncle, the true master of this estate—the Duke of Merton.

In my mind, I conjured the image of a cold-blooded, arrogant, and dangerous aristocrat.

But hadn't Edward told me William was currently stationed abroad by the Queen and wouldn't return for another six months?

Had his intelligence been wrong?

I glanced at Edward. His lips were pressed into a thin line.

Edward, who had dared to argue with every lady in the drawing room on my behalf, was visibly unsettled in William's presence.

I took a deep breath, forcing myself to stay calm. Surely William wouldn't chop my head off with an axe on the spot.

Yet my heart pounded at this blindsiding turn of events.

I lowered my head and caught a figure moving past me in my peripheral vision.

Strangely, beneath the cologne, I detected a hint of something sweet and metallic.

It wasn't like the blood I'd smelled delivering calves—this carried a note of wine.

And oddly, the scent acted like a sedative, transforming my fear into curiosity.

My brain began wondering what William actually looked like.

Did he resemble the magistrate, all bushy sideburns, chin tilted up, addressing people through his nostrils?

Or the vicar, glasses perched on his nose, those small eyes behind the lenses forever counting your sins?

Just then, my head lifted as if pulled by invisible strings.

My gaze was drawn, almost against my will, to William's face.

And I discovered I'd been utterly, completely wrong.

In the light cast by the chandelier, William lounged against the drawing room's massive leather sofa, dressed in an impeccably tailored dark blue military dress uniform. His long legs crossed elegantly, one hand toying with an unlit cigar.

Beneath thick black hair, his face had the chiseled definition of a church sculpture—straight, proud nose, thin lips slightly pursed, undeniably severe.

I'd thought Edward the handsomest man I'd ever seen, but I had to admit William possessed something more.

And he didn't look thirty-two at all.

William's lashes flickered as he raised his eyes to meet mine.

I immediately realized I shouldn't be staring at him like this.

But my eyes seemed controlled by some force, already lost in those midnight-grey irises.

God, how rude. I must have made a terrible first impression.

He'd probably criticize me like those society ladies had, only more severely—after all, even Edward feared him.

Just as sweat began beading on my forehead, he suddenly smiled, warmly.

"Why don't you both sit down?"

In that instant, the mysterious force vanished.

I hastily looked away, searching for a chair, but Edward caught my hand.

"Uncle William, I swore before God that Anne would be my only wife, for all my life. If the family cannot accept her, I'll begin a hunger strike today and continue until you change your minds."

Edward was defying William for my sake.

I was touched, but more worried he'd provoke William's anger.

Yet William didn't seem angry at all. He returned the cigar to its case and smoothly changed the subject.

"When did you arrive home?"

Edward hesitated.

"At noon."

"Have you had lunch?"

"Not yet."

The corner of William's mouth curved upward, and he looked at Edward the way one might regard a stubborn child.

"From the Yorkshire countryside to here, even traveling day and night takes five days. You've rushed Miss Hill back on this grueling journey, and now you're threatening to starve—taking her with you?"

My stomach growled traitorously.

Edward's ears flushed red. He turned to me, eyes full of apology.

William's expression remained mild, but his tone carried undeniable authority.

"Take Miss Hill to her room to rest first. I've prepared a welcoming dinner for you. Other matters can be discussed later."

In that moment, I felt a measure of relief. Though he also called me Miss Hill, he hadn't rushed to dismiss my marriage to Edward with the same aggressive disdain as those ladies.

Perhaps things would take a turn for the better.

But Edward was still anxious.

"But Anne and I—"

William's smile disappeared. That handsome face turned cold as winter.

"If you love her, you shouldn't keep her from resting now. I said, other matters can wait."

For the first time, I felt the weight of William's authority. I agreed Edward shouldn't be so hasty.

But I also understood—he was acting out of love for me.

The light dimmed in Edward's eyes. He lowered his head and gave me a rueful smile.

"You must be exhausted. Let's go to the room."

I wanted to say something to lift his spirits, but thought better of it. We could talk once we'd left the drawing room.

As I turned, that chill returned, this time settling on the exposed skin at the nape of my neck.

In the corridor, Edward asked worriedly, "Did that frighten you?"

I shook my head, though something felt off.

"He's not as terrifying as you described. But there's a smell of blood on him. Has he just returned from the battlefield?"

Edward's footsteps stopped abruptly.

"What is it?"

I asked, confused.

The tension on his face flickered and vanished, his blue eyes brightening with renewed cheer.

"I don't know why he's back so soon either. But don't worry, I'll protect you."

Protect me? What did that mean? Frankly, after meeting William, I was beginning to suspect Edward had exaggerated the stories he'd told me about his uncle.

He led me back to the room.

Shortly after, a maid brought in a tray of refreshments and set it on the tea table.

"Edward, don't be anxious. Our backgrounds are vastly different. They can't accept me immediately—I understand that. But I'm willing to wait, to learn how a lady should speak and move, until they believe I'm worthy of you. Because I love you."

Edward pulled me into his arms.

"Anne, you're the finest girl I've ever met. They simply don't know your worth yet."

He picked up a cream puff and held it to my lips.

I bit into it, and cream spilled from the corner of my mouth.

Edward leaned close, golden strands falling across his forehead, blue eyes bright as newly melted seawater.

The next moment, his tongue flicked out and caught that bit of cream.

Though we'd been married a month, my heart still raced whenever he drew near.

I closed my eyes, anticipating his kiss, but he laughed softly instead and pulled back.

"First time in heels—are they uncomfortable?"

I nodded slightly.

"Let me massage them for you."

He slipped off my shoes and began gently kneading my feet.

But soon his hands started traveling up my calf.

Past the garter, then touching the unobstructed skin beneath my skirt.

His knuckles carried a faint roughness.

My skin prickled with sensation.

"I need to get you with child soon. An heir."

The desire in his eyes was unmistakable.

I hadn't yet recovered from today's tension.

The family's rejection, William's gaze—they still pressed against my chest.

I caught his wrist, voice tight:

"Edward, I don't think I can… not today. It's been too much."

He didn't pull his hand away, only leaned forward, forehead against mine:

"I know. Let me help you forget all of it, all right?"

His fingers returned, lighter this time, tracing the most sensitive place with slow, persistent strokes.

I meant to refuse again, but my body yielded first.

A soft sound escaped my throat despite my bitten lip.

He looked up at me, blue eyes full of patience and hunger:

"Tell me. Do you still want me to stop?"

I shook my head. My voice barely a whisper:

"No."

Only then did he truly kiss me, swallowing what resistance remained.