It had been a very long time since he’d last visited her bed, and even then, she had made her distaste for him known, and he had left before much occurred. Until seeing him with Caroline, she had given very little thought about what that might mean for him. Whether he would find solace elsewhere, and what that form of intimacy might look like.
Now, she wondered, and she could not stop wondering.
Had he taken other women during their marriage? Did he assume she had found intimacy elsewhere also? The truth was, she had never wanted it, not with Percy or anyone else. With William, perhaps, but he had never been an option, and now the consideration made her feel uncomfortable. A coal in the base of her stomach.
Was she truly considering being unfaithful when the thought of Percy doing the same made her want to rip the curtains off the wall?
Sensing her presence, he glanced up, trapping her in his gaze, no matter how mild. Thoughts of William disintegrated, and there was a strange hollowness inside her.
Loneliness, perhaps.
She knew she should look away, but it had been such a long time since she had looked at him with the intent tosee.
At nineteen, she had thought him old. Undesirable.
At nineteen, she supposed she had been a fool.
Something, a light, warmth perhaps, flared in Percy’s eyes, but he merely said, “Did you want something? I can always leave.”
“I came for a book.” She advanced a little further into the room, though she made no attempt to reach for the shelves. From here, she knew, he could have heard her singing. She wondered, before she banished the thought, whether he had enjoyed it. “The light in here is pretty this time of day,” she said, to distract herself.
“Oh.” He looked around in apparent surprise. “Yes, it is pretty, I suppose.”
“Do you often read here?”
“I did before I married,” he said mildly, and returned to his book.
Irritation coursed through her, and so did her defiance—though she balked at the thought of telling him about William. “I intend to go out tomorrow evening,” she announced.
He turned a page. “Is that so?”
“I went shopping especially for it.”
“It certainly sounds as though you’ve been busy.”
“Don’t worry, I won’t be needing an escort.”
She was rewarded by the subtle tightening of his jaw. “I doubted you would.” He closed the book with a snap. “Anything else?”
“I thought you might like to see my purchases. You often enjoy seeing what I spend my pin money on.” She paused just long enough for him to return his gaze to her. “I bought new stockings. And garters.”
His nostrils flared. “Is this designed to be punishment?”
“For what, pray?”
“I’d hoped you might inform me.”
She ran her finger along the perfectly clean mantelpiece above the fire. She could hardly confess that the reason she felt soangry, so frustrated, soalonewas in part because he left her so. “I’m bored,” she said instead. “I found a new aria. I thought we might sing together. We used to, if you recall.”
“I heard you practising.” He looked at her steadily. “But I think I would rather read.”
The blow to her chest was absurdly crushing. She hadn’t practised intending to entice him to sing with her, but hearing that he had no desire to, even though it had been one of the ways he’d first courted her, sent a dizzying wave of disappointment through her.
When he’d first suggested he stop offering her his affection, she hadn’t known it would meanthis.
Percy raised his gaze to her, and she noted the green in his hazel eyes. Not dark like William’s, but she found she could look into them more easily, with no danger of losing herself. “You know our arrangement, Cecily,” he said gently, and rose, crossing the distance between them in two quick strides. This close, she was forced to crane her neck; the height difference was almost as vast as the difference in their ages.
“I didn’t think you would refuse to talk to me at all,” she said, hearing the sullenness in her voice and unable to hide it.
