“And the tongues will wag. Lending life to the old rumors about what happened between the two of you ages ago.”
“Exactly.”
The curious ginger kitten took that opportunity to leap from behind the settee, jump into her lap, and bump its head against her arms while purring loudly.
“Well, hello…” She arched a brow at Matthew.
“Abercrombie.”
“Such a long name for a kitty,” she said as she scratched him behind the ears. “I would have called you Rumbles because of your purring.”
“Then he shall hereafter be known as Rumbles.” Matthew lifted his cup, then fixed her with a look that made her shiver. “This isourhome, Fortuity,yourhome. Do as you wish. Do what makes you happy.”
A pitiful whine came from underneath the settee. Then a snuffling, snorting thump against the back of her skirts made her giggle. “I wish for you to tell Ignatius he may come out of hiding and join us for tea.” Thank heavens for the animals saving her from Matthew’s determination to—what? The question made her swallow hard and shy away from the answer. No, they were friends. Nothing more. “Please?”
He rolled his eyes, then leaned forward and snapped his fingers. “Come out, Ignatius. Acting pitiful is a coward’s way of manipulation.”
The pug wiggled out from under the furniture and bounced into Matthew’s outstretched hands. He picked him up and deposited him on the cushions between them. The cat butted his head against the dog’s as if the two had successfully colluded to achieve their current positions.
“I believe they plotted against us for this,” Fortuity said as she broke a biscuit in two then fed half to the dog, and the other half to the cat.
“I have no doubt of it.” But then Matthew went quiet and fixed her with a look that tempted her to squirm. It was only by sheer force of will that she managed to sit still. “I showed you the letter because I never want you to think that I would hide anything from you, nor would I ever wish to hurt you. I care about you, Fortuity, whether or not you choose to believe it.”
She ached to believe he meant more than friendship but dared not risk it. Her poor, battered heart simply couldn’t take being rejected again. “I appreciate your sharing it with me. I know it could not have been easy.”
He bowed his head and scrubbed a hand across his eyes. “In other words, you still do not believe me.” He slowly shook his head while staring at the floor, making her ache to comfort him even though she knew she dared not. “You refuse to believe I am happy we are married and cannot imagine any other woman being my wife.”
After risking a sip of her brandy-laced tea to stoke her boldness, she set it back on the table, then shifted on the cushions to face him. This argument, this façade of his being the happy new husband, had worn on her as long as she would allow it. “It has been less than a month since you announced quite loudly at Lady Atterley’s dinner that you and I werefriends only. You also informed me we could never be anything more than friends and asked for that to be enough. Moreover, both you and everyone closest to you made it clear as crystal that you had sworn you would walk straight through the gates of hell before you would ever return to the altar to wed. Do you deny the truth of anything I have just stated? Am I remembering any of it incorrectly?”
His jaw flexed, and he dropped his gaze once more. “Sadly, you are not remembering any of those things incorrectly.”
She rose to her feet, placed the ginger cat on the cushions next to the pug, then nervously brushed the wrinkles from herskirt. Refusing to allow him to argue further, she went to the bellpull and yanked on it.
Thebson appeared so quickly that she suspected he had been hovering just beyond the doorway to overhear their conversation. “Yes, my lady?”
“Show me to my room, Thebson, and then please inform Mrs. Greer I shall take my supper in my dressing room.” She forced a smile. “The day has wearied me.”
The butler glanced at Matthew, still sitting on the settee with his head bowed.
“Is there a problem, Thebson?” she asked, silently asserting herself as mistress of the house.
“No, my lady. Please follow me.”
Chapter Ten
It had beenan entire month of pure, unadulterated torture.
Matthew stared at the draft of Fortuity’s story, unable to concentrate on a single blasted word of it. Fortuity’s mouthwatering scent, the heady fragrance of lilacs, books, and a delectable woman who continued to evade him at every turn filled the air of her office. How the devil had he failed to convince her to not only open her heart but her bedchamber as well? They should’ve been a happily,consummatedmarried couple by now. A disgruntled huff escaped him.
She turned from the window streaked with the incessant April showers. “And what does that mean?”
“What?”
“When you blow air like a horse determined to snot on its groom, it cannot be anything good. What do you disagree with about those chapters? You claimed two publishers found the first sample of the book intriguing. Do these not follow up well with what you already gave them?”
He tossed the pages onto the sofa beside him and rubbed his tired, gritty eyes. “I assure you my horse-snotting sound was not directed at your prose.”
She arched a brow at him and meandered closer. “Are we fractious today?”
