“No, it’s not that. It’s because of your servants. I want to leave before they see me.”
“Why?” He repeated the question, if anything more baffled than before.
“Because…they will know what we have been doing. That I spent the night here.”
“So? We are married. None of what we did is a sin. In fact, it’s expected that we have sex,” he said suggestively, wiggling his brows.
“No. I’ll die of mortification. We left our clothes in the library, for God’s sake. What must they think…”
“They probably rightly surmised I have a woman with me and are perishing of curiosity to find out the identity of my lady-friend.” He grinned. “Imagine their disappointment when they discover the lady in question is my own wife. Everything is right and proper. No scandal or gossip to spread.”
“Oh? Are your servants so used to such escapades that they don’t even bat an eye at finding ladies’ clothes in the library and a woman in your bed? Their only concern is learning the identity of the lady?”
He sobered instantly, sitting up and leaning over her with a hand braced next to her head. “Of course not. I’ve never brought a woman to this house, Alice. Hell, I’ve never bedded any other woman since we married. Only you.”
There was anger and hurt in his words. And an edge of accusation. Oh, yes, because he still thought she had bedded other men. The wrongheaded fool. But he was being sincere. She could tell. It lifted a weight off her chest that she didn’t even know she carried until this moment. She wished she could lift that weight off his chest as well. Wished she could reassurehim the same way he had done to her. Except she already had. Multiple times. And he didn’t believe her. Still, she had to try again.
“Neither have I,” she said, looking straight into his eyes. Letting him see her sincerity.
He looked at her for long moments. Broody and conflicted. He nodded once, a jerky movement that meant nothing. He wanted to believe her, but he was not convinced. What on earth…?
They had fallen back into bed without really resolving any issues in their marriage. He still didn’t trust her, and she still didn’t believe she could be the wife of an aristocrat. Hell, she didn’t even know if she wanted to try again. The last time it had brought her only misery. Given those circumstances, it was better if they were not discovered together.
“We are in the process of getting a divorce,” she explained after an uncomfortable silence. “Under those circumstances, being found together might be even more scandalous than a regular affair.”
“The divorce may not proceed,” he said quietly, watching her, as if to gauge her response.
Her heart somersaulted in her chest, But…it was too early—both literally and metaphorically—for this type of conversation.
At her continued silence, he insisted, an edge to his voice this time. “Tell me, Alice. Do you wish to remain married to me?”
Did she? In the end, her heart wouldn’t let her lie. “I love you, Nathaniel. That has never changed. But many things separate us. You don’t even trust me, and I don’t know if I am cut out for the aristocratic lifestyle.”
“But if you want to give it a try, that is all that matters, Alice. We will find a way. As long as we are united.”
“But we still haven’t—”
“If you are willing to give our marriage a chance, you will come downstairs with me with your head held high. As my wife. Asthe lady of this house. I won’t have you acting as if you’re some mistress skulking away at dawn. You will sit proudly at the table next to me and occupy your rightful place not only in my bed but also in my house. Are you up to the challenge, Alice?”
CHAPTER 16
Alicelingeredatthetop of the stairs, her fingers curled tight around the banister as if it were the only thing keeping her steady. Down below, she could hear the gentle clink of porcelain and the low hum of Nathaniel’s voice speaking to a footman. Why did she feel like an interloper? This reluctance, her hesitation, the creeping about in a house where she had every right to be. It didn’t make any sense.
She was the Viscountess Greystone. Nathaniel’s wife.Before letting her escape their bed, he’d made sure to remind her of her place. Spooning behind her, he entered her with his hard cock. Claiming her. Calling her his wife. Her core clenched even now at the remembered deliciousness of his hardness parting her soft, wet folds and stroking her deeply. Her protests had died away at the first touch of his fingers sliding between her legs, teasing her nub until she exploded and they had found glorious culmination together. She would have gladly gone back to sleep, floating in the wonderful post-coitus languor, but he’d jumpedfrom the bed all energized and smug, washed and dressed, and told her he’d wait for her in the breakfast parlor.
If his purpose with this morning’s performance had been to impart courage and confidence, it had worked—at least momentarily. She had accepted the challenge and slid from the bed, more slowly but equally determined. She had found her clothes pressed and folded in the bathing chamber, and a warm bath waiting for her. She had washed and dressed quickly, and now here she was. Poised on the cusp of a new beginning, it would seem.
Feeling more like herself dressed in her own comfortable clothing, and with her hair arranged simply, she descended the stairs, her chin lifted just enough to feign the confidence she did not feel.
The breakfast parlor was one of the few rooms she had liked during her first stay in this house. By some miracle, it had escaped the decorating tastes of whomever had decorated many of the rooms in the house, and it was sunlit and warm, with a wide window that faced the south gardens. The table was laid out with elegant simplicity. Nathaniel sat at the head, the morning paper folded beside his plate.
Even dressed simply in a dark morning coat, he still managed to look every inch the aristocrat. And more handsome than any man had a right to look. His long, elegant fingers caught her attention as he unconsciously rubbed his index over his plush bottom lip—an endearing gesture he did when distracted—and heat crept up her face. He looked up, and a slow smile curved those shapely lips.
“There you are. I was beginning to think you’d decided to starve yourself rather than face the staff.”
Alice forced a wry smile. “Tempting as that was, I remembered you promised kippers.”
He chuckled, rising to pull out a chair for her. “You see? There’s the woman I remember. Brave, sarcastic, and always willing to be bribed with food.”
