“You are on edge,chérie,” he observed instead of answering her question. “Why?”
Of course she was on edge. She had married him this morning. She was now his wife, living beneath the same roof, inhabiting the same room. Breathing the same air. Longing for him in a humiliatingly desperate fashion which could not be dispelled no matter how hard she tried to vanquish it with logic and reason.
“I do not know what to expect from you,” she said, choosing her response with care.
“I can say the same of you.”
She wanted to shift in her seat, so great was her discomfort beneath the weight of his regard. “Do you think we might call a truce, if for no other reason than the sake of our daughter?”
A bark of harsh laughter burst forth from him. “Says the woman who kept her from me all this time.”
“I am here now, and so is Emily.”
“She was sleeping soundly when I checked on her,” he said, surprising her. “Johnston said she had been investigating the nursery quite eagerly. It appears to have met her expectations. What of yours?”
Julianna’s confused mind was still grappling with the realization he had gone to check on Emily and checked in with her nurse upon his return. Her foolish heart warmed at the revelation.
She swallowed down a knot of unwanted emotion. “I beg your pardon?”
“The nursery,” he elaborated, still watching her intently. “Does it meet your expectations? I did not have as much time to see it prepared as I would have preferred, but I am hopeful Emily will take to her surroundings here. That she will come to regard it as home in no time.”
Cagney House was Julianna’s home now as well. How surreal it was.
Temporaryhome, she reminded herself sternly.
“You did an excellent job of outfitting the nursery,” she admitted.
“I want my daughter to be happy.”
“Our daughter.” The correction fled her naturally.
“Yes.” His gaze slipped to her lips for a moment. “Our daughter.”
They stared at each other, the silence falling heavy, rife with so many things unsaid.
“Shelbourne,” she began.
“Julianna,” he said in the same instant.
They stopped. A muscle in his jaw clenched. Her fingers tensed on the arms of her chair. The ocean of memories swelled. She wanted to ask him if anything they had shared had ever meant anything to him, but she quelled the impetus. Buried the words.
“You took supper elsewhere this evening,” she said instead.
“Yes.” He studied her. “I am told you refused to eat. Were you not hungry?”
He had asked aboutheras well? She had not expected that either. Especially not with his blistering disdain where she was concerned. Something inside her shifted. Warmed.
However, she feigned nonchalance. “I occupied myself by getting Emily settled in the nursery.”
In truth, the upheaval happening around her had stolen her appetite. It chose that moment to return.
He frowned. “Johnston and the rest of the staff were meant to do that. It is why they are all paid wages, after all, and handsome ones, too.”
Did he pay his staff handsomely? She had to admit her few interactions with his domestics thus far suggested a conviviality many grand houses did not. One could always detect the character of the master of the house by the deportment of his servants. So what did that say about Shelbourne?
That she had not married a monster, certainly. But that she may have even married a man who was unafraid to show his servants kindness as well.
She shook the unwanted thoughts from her mind and turned her attention to his grim observation. “It was important for me to be present. In New York City, my mother did not permit me to act in any role of authority where Emily was concerned, lest the servants suspect something.”
