Once again, Meredith raised her brows at the legitimacy of his statement. A raging tempest brewed outside and his hair was pomaded in artful curls, as the rest of him was dressed in a simple waistcoat over a shirt, and matching breeches. “You were about to leave dressed like that?” she asked dryly.
He raised his wineglass to his lips but faltered at the question. “Ah…no.”
“So you dressed like this for me?” she quickly followed up.
“Well…” He set his wineglass down on the table and faced her, only to be met with a raised brow and a tight-lipped, terribly disguised grin. “I suppose you could say that.”
CHAPTER8
Upon hearing his words, Meredith's hands gracefully moved to the place setting before her. She cut into some food with an unwaveringly charming smile. He followed suit, and they both began to eat the delicious turkey Meredith had meticulously planned with Lucinda and Cook to service this evening.
It felt as though almost an hour had passed by with only the sounds of cutlery tapping against plates, wine swishing in glasses, and rain beating against the leaded glass window to fill the comfortable silence in the air between them. With it all, however, grew a sense of urgency in Meredith as she spent the minutes away pondering how she could best make use of her time with Ethan now that she had managed to have him alone.
She was bursting with questions and Ethan seemed to sense it as he finally set down his knife and fork, and cleared his throat. “Well?”
Meredith raised her head, and a few strands of her carefully pinned-up hair fell against her temples. “Yes?” she queried.
"You've seemed quite distracted for the better part of an hour. Is there something on your mind you’d like to share?" Ethan prodded.
“I’m not sure I know what you mean,” Meredith fluttered her lashes innocently at him. But he simply crossed his arms, causing her façade to crumble. At that, she, too, set down her cutlery. Meredith was of the mind to ask him what she truly wanted to know—what he spent every evening and night doing, but didn’t know how to ask him without overstepping the boundaries they had set. Though they were married, they had promised never to pry into each other’s personal affairs. Instead, quite shrewdly, she asked, “Why do you never join me for dinner at the castle?”
Ethan shrugged. “I don’t particularly enjoy dining here, nor spending any time here at all, truth be told. Would you not prefer dining in the comfort of your own home? It is as simple an explanation as that.”
Meredith tilted her head slightly. “But this is your home, is it not?”
“It ceased being my home twenty years ago,” Ethan replied, his tone devoid of any emotion. When he noticed her linger on his words, he took a deep breath and continued. “The former Duke of Allerton—my father, this washishome. My brother, Jeremiah, raised me. And he would frequent gentlemen’s clubs and gaming hells. Following in his footsteps, I was practically reared in them. Specifically at Hartley’s, north of Buckinghamshire. It’s the only remaining link to my past.”
He had a deep look of concentration on his face as he recalled his childhood, but it all crumbled as his eyes fell upon Meredith’s wide-eyed gaze. “You have a brother? I did not know that,” she said.
“Hada brother. I presume there’s much about my life you’re unaware of. Can’t blame you, few know its true intricacies beyond overblown gossip, and fewer hear it from me.”
Meredith shuffled uncomfortably in her seat. She was well aware of said gossip and in fact, had confronted him on it unintentionally on the night they met at his ball. Then, his previous words struck her and her mouth dropped open. “I’m…I’m sorry.”
“No need. Sometimes even I question whether the things written about me in those rags are true.”
“I was speaking of your brother,” Meredith added in a smaller voice.
Ethan was suddenly transfixed on her and then he too shifted a little as he swirled the contents of his wine glass. “Indeed.”
Meredith pursed her lips. Then, unlike herself, she reached across the table and placed her hand over his. “I lost my mother at a young age. I cannot deign to know how you must have felt as I do not have many memories of her, but it isn’t all too bad to reminisce over those times.”
Ethan pulled his hand back and glanced around the room for a moment. “I like what you did with this room. Under me and my servant’s noses,” he grinned, for lack of something better to say.
Meredith suppressed a small smile, upset with his continued refusal to open up but still feeling appreciated at the acknowledgment of her efforts. She shuffled back in her seat until her spine touched the backrest of the chair. That was when Ethan looked at her carefully. Really looked at her. Cool eyes roved up and down her figure, his pupils dilating as he stared. Meredith felt her heart begin to thud in her chest at such an intimate gesture.
“That gown does well to flaunt your…natural figure,” he added carefully. “I have never seen a lady outshine such a fine piece of fabric.”
Meredith’s cheeks warmed. She crossed her arms together, suddenly feeling far too exposed before him, but the gesture emphasized too much of her décolletage. She lowered her arms just as quickly. “It is an extra piece I had asked the modiste to make for me when she took my measurements for the ball.”
“It is enchanting,” he gushed, not missing a beat of what she had tried to do. “We should perhaps commission more gowns like these, they certainly flatter you.”
“Thank you,” she said, her voice far too quiet to reach him. “But I do not like having too many gowns, and neither do I like…flaunting my figure,” she added slowly. “My father would shower me with in-vogue gowns to make up for my mother’s absence, so I developed an eye for them. I also began to find it tiresome, however. Constantly trying to keep up with the rest of the ton.”
Ethan looked genuinely bemused for a moment. He picked up the wine bottle and poured some for himself and her. “Peculiar. I do not know many ladies who would turn down the latest fashionable accouterments, and I know my fair share. Where would you have rather spent your pin money then?”
A pinch of hurt crossed Meredith’s expression at his words of knowing many women, but it seemed to pass by him completely as he handed her a wineglass and then took up his own.
All the better for him I guess. I am, after all, only his wife in name.
