When it was time for their bodies to be joined, Carter rolled on his back and urged Dorothea to climb on top of him. He wanted to give her the power of control, he wanted her to know that he would surrender himself completely to her.

The tips of her luscious breasts brushed against his chest. The sensual abrasion made his cock stand up harder as he ached to possess her. Her eyes were wicked and sultry when she lowered herself, sheathing his hardness fully inside. Wrapping his arms around her waist, Carter encouraged her movements, urging her to ride him hard and fast.

She braced herself on her knees and followed his silent commands, sweeping them both in a mindless passion. He tried to hold back his climax, to prolong the moment so he could capture it and hold it in his heart forever, but she was a temptress, undulating her hips urgently, pushing them both toward an explosive end.

The world receded to the edge of consciousness, straining the limits of his self-control. And then she leaned forward and whispered in his ear.

“I love you, Carter.”

Release pounded through him. His hands dropped to her hips and he held her in place as he ground himself against her. She cried out, and he realized she was climaxing, too. He did nothing to stifle the shout of pleasure that came from his throat, and she joined him with her own keening cry.

Afterward, she slumped forward, a faint, drowsy smile on her lips. He rolled to his side, then turned and laid his head beside hers on the pillow.

“I never dared to imagine it could be like this between us,” Dorothea whispered. She pulled her bottom lip between her teeth, suddenly looking embarrassed. “I was such a fool to think that passion was all one needed in a marriage.”

“Well, it was your passion that first intrigued me,” he admitted with a grin. “And that thoroughly delectable first kiss.”

“Carter!”

He cupped her face in his hands so he could look deeply into her eyes. “But you also told me that in the very best of circumstances, love comes after marriage. How lucky we are, dearest, to now be in those circumstances.”

Her eyes turned soft, almost dreamy. “Somehow we managed to find our way into each other’s hearts.”

“Rather miraculous, is it not?”

“Yes, all things considered.”

Her arms closed around his neck and he shifted his position so her head fell easily against his shoulder. Carter felt an almost obscene degree of contentment as he drifted off to sleep, but his mind was not totally at peace. He knew that in the morning, the problem of Major Gregory Roddington would still be with him, haunting and complex. Along with a phenomenal hangover.

Something was wrong with the duke, Carter decided as he glanced at his father. He had come into the morning room after Carter and Dorothea made their way down for a late breakfast, and joined them at the table. Though they had been living under the same roof, it was the first time the three of them had taken a meal together.

Beyond inquiring if the nasty business with Roddington had been concluded, the duke contributed nothing to the conversation, despite Dorothea’s attempts to engage him. Instead, he gazed off in the distance, occasionally lifting his silver spoon and stirring it absently in his cup of tea.

Tea he had requested, but didn’t drink. Because the duke disliked tea.

His father’s obvious unease could of course be attributed to his distress over the Roddington mess, but Carter felt there was more to this agitation. And it worried him.

Carter knew his eyes were a trifle bloodshot, in part due to his heavy drinking last night, and he lacked the proper amount of sleep, thanks to several bouts of robust lovemaking with his darling wife, the memory of which brought a genuine, tender smile to his face. But even in this less than stellar condition, Carter could see that something was amiss with his father.

He caught the eye of the lone footman standing near the sideboard and nodded dismissively. The servant bowed and departed. Free from any prying ears, Carter turned to his father.

“Was there something you wished to tell me, sir?”

That brought the duke’s head up. His expression shifted from denial to something startlingly different as he searched his son’s face. “Actually, Carter, there is something.”

The sound of a chair scraping against the hardwood floor distracted both men.

“I believe I need to consult with Cook about the evening’s menu,” Dorothea interjected. She rose hastily from her seat, but Carter reached over and clasped her arm.

“No. I want you to stay. You are my wife. You have every right to hear what my father has to say.”

For an instant there was a flash of defiance in the duke’s eyes, but it soon faded, dulled by a quiet acceptance. “Carter’s right. Please stay, Dorothea.”

Dorothea resumed her seat and the duke continued. “I’ve been pondering it all night, trying to determine what Roddington hopes to gain by this nonsense, and I’ve yet to arrive at a sensible conclusion. From all accounts he is an honorable soldier, a man admired by many.”

“Roddy is doing this, Your Grace, because he believes that you are his father,” Dorothea said softly.

The duke’s fingers gripped the edge of the dining table. “And what do you believe?”

“That someone is misinformed as to the truth,” she answered.

The duke glowered. “Me?”

Carter reached protectively toward his wife. “Dorothea is not accusing you of anything, sir.” He cleared his throat. “But the question needs to be asked. Is there any possibility this could be true?”

The faraway look returned to the duke’s eyes. For several ticks of the clock he stared at Carter without any discernable expression on his face.

“Actually, I did know Emily Roddington,” the duke finally admitted, his voice tinged with its customary sharpness. “We had a very complicated, unique relationship. It began as a friendship. An unlikely one, I’ll grant you, but we were both lonely and unhappy, and misery does love company.

“She was a sweet woman, well, a girl really. Kind, thoughtful, compassionate.” The edge was gone now, replaced by a wistful tone. “I was going through a difficult time in my life. Your mother and I were at odds over everything, the estates were in poor financial condition, the crops had failed for several years, and there were problems with the investments my father had made. There were days when I felt as though I were drowning beneath all that responsibility. Emily would listen to my difficulties without censure or criticism, would encourage me in my attempts to solve them. She was a good listener, someone who never sought to judge me.”

“Did you love her?” Dorothea asked.

The duke’s expression grew serious. “In a way. As a trusted friend and confidante. It was never a romantic relationship. I loved my wife, even though at the time we could barely be in the same room together without getting into some kind of ridiculous argument. I vowed to remain true to her, in the tradition of all Dukes of Hansborough.”

“But you failed,” Carter croaked.

The duke looked from him to Dorothea, then back again. “Once,” he insisted, his voice straining with emotion. “It only happened once. It started from an embrace, a gesture of comfort, but somehow…” The duke’s voice trailed off in confusion, as if he still did not understand how it had happened. “Emily’s guilt was nearly as strong as my own. She resigned her position at the Aldertons, which greatly annoyed them, and left the county by the end of the week.

“I heard nothing of her until a year later, when a letter arrived. She told me that she had given birth to a child, our child. Her family had taken her in and she was being well treated, well cared for by them. She asked for a small stipend to be sent through my lawyer so she could be assured the child would have some financial security. I made arrangements for the funds to be deposited at once, providing considerably more than requested.

“I wanted to do more for Emily, much more, but she would not allow it. In that letter, she begged me to let the matter drop, to leave her in peace, and as much as I wanted to protest, I felt I had no right to deny her wishes.”

A chill swept Carter as he struggled to accept the truth of his father’s words. “Then Roddington is your son.”

“No.” The duke shifted his eyes toward him. “He is not mine.”

Fury flashed through Carter, burning away his shock. He understood how Roddington must have felt when he confronted the duke, wanting only to hear the truth. “How can you possibly deny it?”

“Because Emily wrote that the child she gave birth to was a girl.”

The silence in the room was all-consuming. Dorothea drew an audible breath as time slowed to a crawl. She wrapped her hand around Carter’s, trying to offer some degree of comfort, for she knew his heart must be filled with anguish and uncertainty.

The silence of the room was finally broken by the sound of a door slamming, followed by an oath. There was a raised, angry voice and the sound of footsteps charging through the lower rooms of the house. Startled, they all turned to the door as a tall, muscular man crashed through it, dragging two young footmen with him.

Dorothea screamed and Carter leapt protectively in front of her. The two servants tried to wrestle the intruder to the ground, with little success. One footman’s powdered white wig had been knocked askew, and there was a thin trickle of blood running down the nose of the other.

“What is the meaning of this?” the duke snapped.

No one answered. A third footman joined in the efforts, and they managed to contain the man’s forward momentum. They dragged him, kicking and bucking, to his feet and were attempting to hustle him from the room when Carter yelled. “Wait! I know this man. He’s Roddington’s servant.”