Page 50 of A Family Bargain with the Duke

“Honest.”

Dominic sighed theatrically. “Do you know, there was a time when you were almost pleasant company.”

“No.”

“Neither do I.”

The corner of Julian’s mouth betrayed him. Dominic caught it at once.

“There it is.”

“There is what?”

“That smile. The one you pretend not to possess.”

“You are imagining things.”

“Am I?” His gaze drifted back to the drawing, and when he spoke again, the teasing had softened. “It suits you.”

Julian’s expression grew thoughtful. “The drawing?”

“No.” Dominic met his eyes. “Looking happier than you used to.” He set down his glass, though his eyes kept drifting back to the drawing, and after a long moment, genuine curiosity in his expression. “What exactly are you still trying to protect her from?”

“I do not know what you mean.”

“I think you know exactly what I mean.” Dominic gestured toward the drawing without picking it up. “Your ward has drawn the four of you as a family, Julian, without a moment’s hesitation, the way children draw things that are plainly true rather than things they have been instructed to believe. And yet I understand, from the little you have told me and what I have gathered on my own, that you continue to keep your wife at arm’s length as though your marriage were still the same arrangement it began as.”

“It is the arrangement she asked for.” Julian set down his pen, some old, familiar defensiveness rising in his chest. “She proposed a practical marriage before we had known each other a full hour, Dominic. She was clear about what she wanted, and I agreed to those terms because she set them. I do not think it is my place to go back on an agreement simply because circumstances have grown more comfortable than either of us expected.”

“More comfortable.” Dominic’s eyebrows rose further. “Is that the word for it? I have watched you across a dinner table forgetting entirely what you meant to say next because your eyes had wandered to your wife rather than to whatever conversation was happening around you. I would not call that comfortable, precisely. I would call it something considerably more dangerous for a man so determined to keep his distance.”

“That is not what this is.”

“Then what is it?” Dominic watched him for a long moment before speaking again. “Very well, let us suppose that is true. Explain something to me, then. Why does every decision you make now begin with the words, What would Louisa think? You consult her on estate matters. You seek her opinion before your own on matters that have nothing to do with the original bargain. You look for her the moment you enter a room, and when she speaks, the rest of us might as well not exist.”

Julian frowned. “That is an exaggeration.”

“Is it?”

He swallowed, not answering.

“You have not merely given her your respect, Julian. You have given her your trust. Those are not the same thing.”

“Leave it be, Dominic.”

Dominic studied him for a long moment, and Julian recognized, with some resignation, the look his friend wore when he had decided a matter was not worth pressing further today, though the pressing would certainly resume on a future occasion.

“As you wish.”

For a while, they spoke of easier things—Piers’s latest letter from Oxford, and whether the autumn shoot ought to be brought forward if the weather continued as it had. Julian was grateful for the change of topic.

Eventually, Dominic drained the last of his brandy and rose. “I have delayed you from your work long enough.”

Julian stood as well. “You usually consider that a successful morning.”

“I do.”

He walked with him to the door.