Dangerous thoughts. She was not meant to indulge in passion. Their arrangement was for a purpose. A noble one, even if the means of achieving it were rotten to the core.
In silence, they walked along a row of luscious plants on display. Fresh citrus, pineapple, strawberries, and more. There was a constant rotation here in the orangery, which was run by the head gardener, Mr. Fergus, but mostly all the plants were decadent in nature. But there were roses also, some of which would be added to the rose gardens.
“Why do you like it here?” Robin asked, his tone tinged with curiosity.
“How can you not love this room? It is bright and filled with promise.”
“Yes.” He trailed a finger over a fat, ripened strawberry hanging from its stem. “But in a house that has hundreds of rooms, most of them filled with priceless art and marble statuary and tremendous carvings—opulence the likes of which most will never witness—you have chosen the indoor gardens as your preferred rooms. I cannot help but to wonder at the reason.”
It was ridiculous, but she was jealous of that strawberry. Hungry for his touch herself. What was it about him that affected her so, that drew her to him in an invisible bond that was as potent as it was confounding?
Calm yourself, Tilly. This is a finite arrangement. This man is not in your future.
And he had asked her a question, had he not? Yes, he had.
His sky-blue gaze was upon her now, sizzling. Searing. Probing.
She found her own stare lowering, settling on his mouth. Those lips were finely formed. They had been inexplicably gentle upon hers. Coaxing, teasing, seducing. He had not made further overtures today.
She wanted to feel his lips on hers again.
Why not here? Why not now?
The servants, hissed the rational part of her mind.
“The orangery is my favorite room because it is always changing,” she answered softly. “It is a place of new growth, fresh fruit, of lush, green vegetation, of sunshine. Even in the winter, with the heated water pipes traveling through it and the hearths at either end, the orangery remains quite warm. I have never liked the chill of the winter, and the orangery allows me to bask in the delusion that it is always summer.” She laughed at herself as she realized how she must sound. “I suppose basking in delusions is the manner in which I have survived my marriage thus far.”
A shadow passed over his handsome features at her allusion to her relationship with the duke. His jaw tensed. “You do not deserve to live your life beneath the cloud of such a man.”
She agreed, but she had only learned his true nature when it was far too late to avoid the misery he had brought upon her. “I am inextricably bound to him.”
His lips thinned. “Do not remind me.”
There was bite in his voice that took her by surprise. “Let us not speak of it.”
His countenance remained stern, forbidding. “Would you tell me something, Tilly?”
He seemed so very serious, and suddenly, she regretted her invitation to give him a tour of Coddington Hall, for it seemed to have cast a desperate gloom upon the day. It was the direct opposite of her intention. She had been meaning to show him about in the hopes he would feel more comfortable.
After all, he was to spend the next month here with her.
She could not help but to wonder again at the relationship he possessed with Longleigh.
“What is it you want to know?” she asked. “For I have many questions for you as well.”
“I have no doubt you do.” He flashed her a wry smile which quickly dissipated. “Has Longleigh ever hurt you? Has he done you violence?”
She had no wish to relive the past. “Why do you ask?”
He was silent for an unnaturally long pause, his gaze searching hers, almost as if he was trying to make certain she was telling him the truth. “No reason.”
For the first time since his arrival, Robin Carstairs was not charming her. He was not wooing her, flirting with her, or making her laugh. She very much believed he was lying to her. Why would he ask such a question for no reason? What did he know about his uncle that she did not?
She held his stare. “Was he violent with your aunt, the former duchess?”
How dreadful the realization that struck her then—she was married to Robin’s uncle, which made her his new aunt. She had been speaking of Longleigh’s first wife. It was far preferable to think of her predecessor as Robin’s aunt than herself.
He sent her a crooked grin. “I know what you are thinking now, Tilly, and you must silence that voice. I cannot think of you in those terms either, if we are to carry on with this arrangement.”
