As he led her to the stairs, the rest of the residence’s staff peeped around corners. He heard murmurs and gasps. One small, distinct sigh.
Oh hell, this was going to be the very devil to untangle, and his sisters had not even returned. He gritted his teeth and adjusted his hand underneath Winnie’s elbow, in case she decided once again to swoon.
Inside the countess’s chamber, Winnie blinked at her surroundings.
“The bath,” he said idiotically, gesturing to the open doorway that framed what was, indubitably, a chamber for bathing. “We share it. The earl and countess, I mean. And the dressing room is here as well. My wardrobe is in there, and we can have the maid bring your—” He paused, looking at her with sudden concern. “Do you need new dresses? You can borrow something of my sisters’, if you like. Or, hell, just use their account at the dressmaker. I can check my books and see which shop they frequent.”
She had her hands on her hips and her expression looked a little dangerous. Her lips were pursed distractingly. “Are you satisfied?”
“Not at the moment.”
She blinked at that.
“Ah, that is,” he said, “I should like to make certain you are comfortable here. The door—I believe all the doors between the chambers have locks. If they don’t, I’m certain I can have them installed. Actually”—good Lord, he wished he didn’t sound so unhinged—“come to think of it, perhaps I can move to some other room.”
“That will not be necessary.”
Relief at her words mingled with… other things. Images. Winnie in bed, mere steps separating his chamber from hers. Winnie between crisp white sheets. Winnie in her night-rail. He had no notion what her night-rail looked like, but in his mind it was short and transparent and he could see her arse.
“Perhaps it would be better if I retire elsewhere,” he rasped. “For the annulment.”
She looked aggrieved. “This is perfectly fine. Your staff can testify to the fact that both the beds have been slept in.”
Winnie in bed, one long leg tossed up over his shoulder, while he—
“Both beds,” he repeated. “Yes.”
“Are you… quite all right?” Her head was tilted to the side, the expression of exasperation replaced by one of concern. “I don’t mean to intrude upon your private domain. Of course, if you had not told all and sundry that we are married, I would not be here in this chamber in the first place, so perhaps—”
“No,” he said. “Er, yes. I’m fine. You are not intruding.”
Or at least, not in the way she meant. She was certainly intruding upon his mind. Unlocking desires he had tried to bury: for adventure, for spontaneity. For her.
“All right,” she said. “Do you want to talk about the necklaces? Perhaps we could review the invitations you’ve received and map out some likely scenarios for returning them in the coming days?”
He could picture it—Winnie in his chamber, seated at his escritoire, her hands full of his set-aside correspondence. He would come up behind her. Touch the curve of her neck. Slide his fingers under the fabric at her shoulder and—
“Perhaps tomorrow.” His voice was hoarse. “It’s… late. We should retire.”
It was four o’clock in the afternoon. They had not even had dinner.
“Oh,” she said. “All right.”
“Do you need anything?” he managed to say. “A maid, or—”
Your frock unfastened? The pins pulled out of your hair?
“No,” she said, “I can do for myself. I’ve been doing so for a long time.”
He nodded and fled through the bath to his own chamber. He shut the door behind him.
The next day was no better. Winnie woke early. He could hear her off-key humming through the wall when he opened his eyes to the glittering early-morning light.
When he went down for breakfast, she was there as well, dunking the corners of an iced biscuit into her tea. She gave him a guilty sort of smile and popped the entire biscuit into her mouth, her lips curving over a smothered laugh.
He ordered himself to get hold of his mind. His thoughts about her mouth were veering from unseemly to downright pornographic.
They spent the morning together. Inside the library, she showed him the necklaces and the pages she had neatly sliced from one of his books displaying the crests of the Noake, Roxbury, and Brownbrooke peerages.
