“Adrian, I can put up with all of this.

      “I am willing to live in this marriage with nothing more from you than your polite regard. I am even willing to let go of my dreams of having a husband who loves me. But I will not lie beneath you and pretend that I am happy. I will not lie still in my bed and act as though I do not want more.”

      “You do not mind the liberties I took? You would welcome them?”

      She could not admit to more embarrassing truths to him. She could not…

      He lifted her chin and she thought she saw mirth glittering in his hazel-colored eyes. How could a woman not enjoy being naked with a man like this?

      Miranda reached up and slid her fingers through his hair. Pulling his head down, she kissed him, tasting the brandy on his tongue and letting him taste her. Out of breath, she nodded to him in answer to the question that still circled inside her thoughts.

      “I would welcome them, Adrian. I would.”

      He kissed her this time, and she grabbed the lapels of his evening coat to keep her balance…!

      The Duchess’s Next Husband

       Harlequin Historical #751

      Praise for Terri Brisbin

      “A lavish historical romance in the grand tradition from a wonderful talent.”

      —New York Times bestselling author Bertrice Small on Once Forbidden

      The Countess Bride

      “Brisbin woos her readers with laughter and tears in this delightful and interesting tale of love.”

      —Romantic Times

      The Norman’s Bride

      “A quick-paced story with engaging characters and a tender love story.”

      —Romantic Times

      The Dumont Bride

      “Rich in its Medieval setting…Terri Brisbin has written an excellent tale that will keep you warm on a winter’s night.”

      —Affaire de Coeur

      The Duchess’s Next Husband

      Terri Brisbin

      Available from Harlequin Historicals and TERRI BRISBIN

      The Dumont Bride #634

      The Norman’s Bride #696

      The Countess Bride #707

      The Christmas Visit #727

      “Love at First Step”

      The King’s Mistress #735

      The Betrothal #749

      “The Claiming of Lady Joanna”

      The Duchess’s Next Husband #751

      To Mary Lou Frank, Susan Stevenson, Jennifer Wagner Schmidt, Lyn Wagner, Mary Stella and Colleen Admirand—wonderful women, talented writers and extraordinary friends and colleagues.

       Thank you for being there through the ups and downs and everywhere in between, and especially for getting me through 2003 and 2004. Huzzah!

      Contents

      Prologue

      Chapter One

      Chapter Two

      Chapter Three

      Chapter Four

      Chapter Five

      Chapter Six

      Chapter Seven

      Chapter Eight

      Chapter Nine

      Chapter Ten

      Chapter Eleven

      Chapter Twelve

      Chapter Thirteen

      Chapter Fourteen

      Chapter Fifteen

      Chapter Sixteen

      Chapter Seventeen

      Chapter Eighteen

      Chapter Nineteen

      Chapter Twenty

      Chapter Twenty-One

      Epilogue

      Prologue

      He slipped inside her body with a practiced ease from their many joinings. Although she softened beneath him, she gave no outward sign that she enjoyed this now as she had in the early days of their marriage. Judging from her reactions to his movements, it was most likely less now than then.

      Adrian moved them efficiently toward completion and, even as she let out a soft sigh, he offered a silent prayer that this time they might be successful in creating the heir he needed so much. For the dukedom, he prayed, as he filled her once more and felt his seed begin to release. For his family name and honor, he urged silently, as he thrust deeper within her again. For the continuation of his name, he implored, to whatever power controlled these matters.

      Without a word, he withdrew from his wife. Climbing from her bed, he tugged on his robe and ran his fingers through his hair. When he heard the telltale sound of her shifting, and the rustling of the bedcovers, he turned toward the bed and nodded.

      “Thank you, my dear,” he said. He always said the same thing, since he appreciated his wife’s cooperation and efforts to gain an heir.

      “Windmere,” she replied softly, without ever meeting his gaze.

      He nodded at her and returned to his dressing room. Within the hour, the Duke of Windmere was at his club enjoying a particularly good port. And he realized, as the butler served him without him saying a word, that his life was nothing if not predictable.

      Chapter One

      “Turn your head, if you please, Your Grace.”

      Adrian Warfield, Duke of Windmere, suffered the poking and prodding in silence. His name and position had brought three of England’s leading physicians to his home, and his inbred manners prevented him from allowing the escape of the oaths he wanted to speak. If these three men could give him no answers, his future and that of his family and dukedom looked increasingly bleak. Allowing each of them in turn a chance to examine him, Adrian grew impatient when it seemed that the appointment dragged on for too long.

      Finally, finally, they stepped away and he adjusted his shirt and waistcoat. Leaving the ends of his linen cravat hanging down on his chest, Adrian waited for their pronouncement. They stood in a cluster by his desk, whispering among themselves and glancing at him as they consulted on his condition.

      “Well, Doctors. What is your diagnosis?” He liked none of the expressions that met his gaze. The silence grew until it made his skin itch, and he spat out one of the curses he’d held in until that moment. “Bloody hell! Just get on with it.”

      They looked to each other before facing him.

      “Your Grace, we have nothing new to offer you regarding your condition,” Dr. Penworthy said. His bushy eyebrows twitched, giving him a vaguely squirrel-like appearance.

      “But it has worsened?” Adrian prepared himself for the worst.

      “It has, Your Grace, but not so much that we are overly concerned by the changes you presented.” Dr. Lloyd pulled out a small notebook and nodded at the desk.