He raised a brow. “Is that a challenge, wife?”
Wife.
Lady Shelbourne.
So many changes. Was he reminding her of them intentionally? They stood in the nursery he had prepared for Emily, beneath his roof, in his townhome. She could not like it.
She maintained the connection of their gazes. “It is a promise.”
His countenance hardened. “We both know how easily those are broken.”
“Yes, we do.” The old anger she had harbored toward him for so long rose, roaring to life.
She would not give in. Her emotions were a jumbled, frayed mess.
Johnston returned to the nursery then, disrupting the verbal duel unfolding between Julianna and Shelbourne. The nurse dipped into a curtsy, her expression uncertain.
“Forgive me for intruding, my lord, my lady. Shall I go until you ring for me? It was not my intention to interrupt.”
“Stay,” Julianna said with a forced smile, for none of the tumult rioting inside her was the fault of Emily’s nurse. “You interrupted nothing.”
“Yes,” Shelbourne agreed smoothly, lowering Emily back to her feet with elegant ease. “Lady Shelbourne and I were just about to descend to the breakfast room.”
Emily had a ready smile for Johnston, and Julianna forced herself to tamp down a rampant surge of jealousy at the sight. The nurse was a newer addition in Emily’s life, having been hired in London. But it seemed even she could please Julianna’s daughter with more ease than Julianna herself could.
She and Shelbourne took their leave of the nursery as Emily was happily building blocks with Johnston. Her hand was on his arm, only out of deference to their audience. The moment they were in the hall, Julianna released him, eager to increase their distance. He smelled of shaving soap and bay and the man she had once loved this morning, and she did not like it.
She could not allow her heart to be lulled into a false sense of security. Their marriage was one of convenience. Their attraction to each other could not be helped; it was as natural and ferocious now as it had been before. More potent, even, for the time they had spent apart. However, no good could come of it. Lust was not love, and Julianna had no intention of confusing one for the other ever again.
Shelbourne took note of her abrupt defection. He eyed her with amusement as they approached the stairs side by side. “Is something amiss, Lady Shelbourne?”
Everything was amiss.
She forced a bright smile. “Not at all, Lord Shelbourne. Everything is well with me. Thank you for your concern.”
“Good. I should hate to think what happened between us last night is the source of your morning pique.”
His quip earned him a glare. “I have no pique.”
“And yet your voice suggests otherwise.” He raised a brow. “As do your eyes. They are filled with hail storms today.”
Once upon a time, he had compared her eyes to the summer sky. She tamped down the memory.
“I am adjusting to my new life here at Cagney House,” she countered. “Surely that is to be expected and understood? You did not give me sufficient time to prepare myself.”
One day of warning, and then she had become his wife.
They made their way down the staircase.
“I gave you the time you needed,” he said, his tone mild, his expression unruffled.
Oh, how she wished she had his ability to be so cold, so distant and unfeeling. But he had hurt her, cut her more deeply than she had imagined another person could. And she could not forget the pain, try as she might. Nor could she forgive herself for giving in to her weakness last night. For consummating their marriage when she had promised herself she would not do so in haste.
Instead, haste had been had on the bedchamber floor.
“I hardly think one day is sufficient,” she muttered.
“Have you not moved all your belongings to Cagney House?” He smiled at her, and the divot in his chin was at its most charming. Though he had the same plum half moons beneath his eyes she had come to recognize, something about him seemed heartier this morning. He was more alert.
