“Good morning, Isobel, I did not expect to see you abroad so early. I wake at dawn nowadays and take a brisk walk before I break my fast.” Alexander bent to stroke Ebony’s ears. “I should like to join you but fully understand if you would prefer to walk alone.”

It would be churlish not to let him accompany her when he had spoken so charmingly and given her the option to refuse. “You may come with us, if you wish, but I’m afraid the excursion will be far from brisk. More a stroll, as I find I can’t dash about the way I used to.”

He offered his arm and she took it, relieved she did not feel the slightest bit flustered by the contact. The dogs circled around them barking and he took the hint and found a suitable stick to throw. Thus the walk progressed, when one or other of the dogs returned with a piece of wood she released her grip on his arm so he could throw it again.

“There’s really no necessity. They are perfectly content just to sniff and chase anything that moves.”

Laughing he wiped his hand on his breeches, ignoring Othello. “I enjoyed it; I had forgotten the pleasure of playing with dogs. Do you wish to walk as far as the lake? It will be spectacular when the sun rises in the next few minutes.”

She nodded, finding his behaviour most disconcerting. The man she knew would never have ruined his pristine appearance as he had just done, neither would he have risked tearing his jacket by throwing sticks. Was this a genuine change, or was he dissembling in order to ingratiate himself?

They were returning to the house when a figure on horseback cantered into view. She recognized the rider; this was Reynolds, the estate manager. He was unconscionably early. Did he really expect Alexander to be so eager to see him?

“Reynolds is upon us, my dear. I sent a message for him to come first thing. I wish to spend a full day examining the improvements and arranging for anything further that needs to be done. I’ve been delinquent in my duties; I shan’t be so in future.”

“So you’re not going to ring a peal over both of us? That’s a great relief, I can tell you. I feared that you might …” her voice trailed away and she swallowed the bile that rose in her throat. Just thinking about that awful night made her feel unwell.

“Isobel, what I did to you was unforgivable. I know that, but I’ve given you my word whatever the provocation I shall never be unkind to you again.”

She glared at him. “Provocation? It is I who is more likely to be provoked.”

He grinned and raised his hand as if he thought to touch her, then thought better of it as she frowned. “I know—you’re perfect in every way. How could I think that there was even the remotest possibility you would do anything to irritate me?” He released her arm, nodded, and strolled across the turning circle to greet his visitor.

Mollified by his good humour she went in her optimism renewed that somehow they could get through the next few hours without unnecessary aggravation. However, the quicker his business was completed the better. For all his protestations she was not entirely comfortable in his company. He would not manhandle her; whatever he had been in the past he was not untruthful or given to making false promises. The danger lay in his ability to soften her resolve.

He was out all day and returned only as darkness fell. To hear him chatting companionably to the footmen he met in the vestibule was a revelation. If he continued to improve in this way she would no longer recognize him as the man she’d married. Perhaps she would make more of an effort to be civil; after all, only Mary and Sam knew why she had left him. She had no wish for her staff to believe she was being curmudgeonly.

She reached the door as he prepared to ascend the heavy oak staircase. “Alexander, I shall join you for dinner tonight, I would dearly like to know what you thought of the improvements.”

“I shall look forward to it, my dear. Do you wish me to put on my evening rig?”

Surprised he should ask for she could not remember an evening when he hadn’t appeared in formal attire and she worn an evening gown. “I should much prefer to eat in the small dining room and not have to change at all.” She smiled wryly. “In fact I don’t have anything suitable to wear at the moment. I haven’t bothered to alter my grand ensembles.”

“Excellent.” He pointed at his mud spattered clothes and laughed. “However, I can assure you that I shan’t reappear in disarray.”

He took the remainder of the stairs two at a time. How could she not be aware that his physical appearance had improved over these past months? His eyes were clear and no longer bloodshot. His toast-brown hair was shining with health and he moved with a vigour he’d not displayed before. She giggled at the thought that he was becoming thinner and trimmer as she was doing the exact opposite.

Mary appeared in answer to her ring. “I wish to have dinner served in the small dining room. Make sure Cook does not serve an elaborate meal, we are not dressing for dinner.”

“Do you wish to eat at the usual time, my lady?”

“No, we will dine at half past five; that will allow the duke plenty of time to bathe.”

Bill, now referred to as Mr Brown by all the staff, rang the gong at the appointed hour.

Isobel walked towards the door. She was hungry and didn’t wish to waste further time dawdling in the drawing-room. Alexander hurtled down the stairs obviously as eager as she to get to his meal. He was dressed as before, but this time in a dark-blue, superfine jacket, navy blue waistcoat and skintight unmentionables. Her eyes were held by the muscles in his thighs. She could not drag her gaze away.

Aware of her scrutiny he paused and his eyes blazed with that all too familiar fire. This would not do—she would not let herself be bamboozled into acquiescence. She was made of sterner stuff nowadays, was her own woman and had no intention of allowing him to breach the walls she had erected around herself.

“I am famished, my dear. You might remember I did not come in for breakfast and had no time to stop for mid-day refreshments.”

“Good heavens! I’m surprised you did not come to grief galloping all over the countryside with nothing inside you.”

He laughed. “As I keep telling you, Isobel, I am not the man you married. That degenerate is no longer me. I am returned to the fellow I once was. I am hoping you’ll one day come to see me as my true self.”

She stiffened. Did he really believe his reformation could possibly remove the scars of that night? “Dinner is waiting, my lord. I don’t as a rule, serve wine, but I’ve asked Brown to fetch some claret from your wine cellar next door.” She waited for him to tell her he no longer drank, instead his eyes twinkled.

“I am reformed, but not become a Puritan, my dear. I drink in moderation as any gentleman should.”

“I did not know that imbibing alcohol was a prerequisite for being a gentleman, my lord. However, I am always ready to learn from an expert.”

Content in his company she led the way to the small dining room she used in preference to the larger chamber which seated more than twenty around the oak table. The evening passed without discord and she returned to her chambers pleased she had been able to enjoy his friendship without being beguiled by his charm.

He had assured her he was leaving the day after tomorrow and would remain in town for the season. Whilst he was there he would speak to his lawyers and have them arrange the settlement. Her family would think this a disgraceful arrangement, even her aunt and uncle would be shocked to the core by her desertion.

In May, two months before the baby was due, he would reopen Newcomb and take up residence next-door. Everything was working out as she’d hoped and when the baby was six months old she would be able to take her leave and move to whatever small estate Sam had found for her. She must also arrange for Sam dispose of Home Farm; she would never return there.

Her digestion rebelled the following day and she was unable to leave her bed chamber. Alexander sent his commiserations and hoped she would be well enough to speak to him before he left the next morning. Sam asked to see her that afternoon and, as she was now sitting in her parlour, she agreed.

“My lady, his grace has just called me in to speak to him; he told me I’m to start looking for a suitable estate for you. Have I mistaken the matter? Are we not to stay here permanently?”

“No, my life is no longer here. Once Newcomb is occupied by the duke it will be untenable to remain here. It’s far better I make a new start somewhere else.”

He looked away and his cheeks coloured. “I beg your pardon for questioning your decisions, your grace. I believe there are more than a dozen estates held by his grace, do you wish me to visit all of them?” His tone was formal, his expression sad.

Should she tell him he was mistaken, that the estates he was to look at were not those owned by her husband? It might be better to leave him in ignorance. “I haven’t thought about it. You can be sure I shall inform you in good time. Do you know if Rochester has approved all the changes made on the estate these past few weeks?”

“His grace did not see fit to discuss the matter with me.”

“Thank you for coming to see me, Sam. If there is nothing further you wish to speak to me about, you may go.”

She must get accustomed to disapproval. If even her dear Sam thought she was wrong she might find it difficult to re-establish herself elsewhere. She would be obliged to be known by her title and not revert to Mrs Baverstock. Abandoning her husband was beyond the pale, to do the same to her child would not be forgiven by Society. It would break her heart to do so but Alexander would never allow her to take the baby with her. No doubt he was relying on her maternal instincts to make her change her mind.