He paused.
“Does that mean you have been in my study?”
“That is where everything was, so yes. Should I not have?”
“You– no, no, you are right. I left all of this to you, and so it is only fair that you use the room for it. I did not expect you to undertake the task; that is all.”
“What did you want me to do? It was not as though I could ask you for help, and– I do not wish to discuss this again.”
“Very well,” he agreed. He poured milk into a pan, positioning it to simmer over the fire.
She could not take her eyes off of him, admiring his muscles as he cleared things away for their staff. The subtle ripple of his shoulders as he bent to the fire made her breath catch, and her fingers twitched with the urge to brush away his disheveled black hair.
All while she sat in her flimsy nightgown, which he seemed to enjoy looking at, too. It left enough to the imagination, and he was clearly indulging in his.
“What might you wish to discuss, then?” he asked. “I suppose you have a lot to tell me, given how long it has been.”
“I do not think that we have ever properly spoken,” she sighed. “You left before I had the opportunity.”
“Well, I am here now. Tell me about yourself.”
He handed her mug, fingertips lingering at the height of her chest. She thought of her books, where he would go on to temptand tease her with those same fingers, but only for a moment. She did not want him to realize what she was thinking of.
“What is there to say?” she asked. “I like to read, as you know, and I enjoy spending time outdoors. I believe I would like to travel, though I have not, and I paint more often than most, I believe.”
“I enjoy painting. It may not be what is expected of a gentleman, but I am greatly entertained by it.”
“Are any of your works in the gallery? I have spent a lot of time in there.”
“They are, yes.”
He had said it proudly, but Anna noticed his cheeks turn pink. He was flushed at the thought, as though he was not confident in his skills. Anna had been to the gallery many times, but she had never seen anything with his name on it. She wondered if he was lying, but then what could he have stood to gain?
“And what else do you enjoy?” she asked.
“Do you promise not to laugh?”
“I will try not to, yes.”
“I like listening to gossip.”
She almost laughed, in spite of her promise, but she held her tongue. For once, her husband was opening up to her, and she could not risk him changing his mind.
“I like to learn about people,” he continued. “I would never speak ill of someone, for that is not who I am, but I find enjoyment in listening to stories about others. I think, in a way, it reminds me that everyone has their faults. We are not alone in our difficulties.”
“You do understand that is not the purpose of gossip, do you not?”
“Of course, but I do not need to do something a certain way just because I am told it is so.”
“Is that why gossip does not affect you when it is about us?”
He finished his drink, rinsing the cup before putting it away.
“It is something like that, yes.”
With him having finished his, Anna expected him to leave her there. Instead, he leaned back against a countertop, his shirtsleeves resting against his arms.
“Do you know what I think?” she asked, finishing her drink.
