Her throat cinched at his blunt statement, which confirmed her suspicions.
He dragged a hand through his hair, his biceps bunching. “I know I’ve been…distant. Although you haven’t asked, I want to explain what happened. Not that anything happened,” he said hastily. “You do know that, don’t you?”
“I know you wouldn’t betray your vows,” she said quietly.
“Thank you, sweeting.”
“But Imogen…” She hesitated.
“Ask whatever you want, Fancy. You are my wife and have a right to know.”
“She didn’t ’ave something in ’er eye, did she?”
“She did not.” Grooves lined his brow as he said, “It was stupid of me to make that excuse; I don’t know why I did. It just…came out.”
“Maybe you were flustered over ’er tears?” she ventured.
“I don’t get flustered.” He looked disgruntled. “I was, however, taken aback by her unexpected arrival. I had written her, just a brief note informing her that you and I had wed.” He gave her a direct look. “Given our history, it seemed the right thing to do.”
She nodded, although her heart lurched at the knowledge that her husband had written to his former sweetheart. “Why was she crying?”
“She was surprised by my marriage,” he said. “Truthfully, she has no cause to be. After I inherited the title, there was no question that I would need a wife to produce heirs and introduce my siblings into society.”
Pain lanced through Fancy, and she lowered her gaze to her hands, which were twisting the coverlet. She didn’t know what to say. How to respond to the fact that the woman her husband loved was hurt by his marriage. Hearing him state so plainly that he married her, Fancy, not out of desire but necessity felt like a blow.
“Not that those were the only reasons I married you.” Frustration threaded Knight’s voice. “Bloody hell, I’m making a hash of this. Fancy, look at me, please.”
She raised her eyes.
“Imogen is in my past, and I am damned lucky that you are my wife and here with me now,” he said with quiet intensity. “I know that you and I didn’t marry under the best of circumstances, but we’re making a go of things, aren’t we?”
A go of things.If he’d married Imogen, would he have described their marriage in those terms? Fancy wondered morosely.
“Are we?” Her voice cracked a little.
“I think so.” He cupped her cheek, his grey eyes as warm as the sky during a summer rain. “I have never wanted a woman the way I want you, Fancy.”
That was something, at least. A balm to soothe the soreness of her heart. Even if he didn’t love her, he desired her physically, and according to him, more than any woman he’d known.
More than Imogen?The question popped into her head; she wasn’t ready to know the answer.
“I’m sorry I have not been attentive these past few days,” he went on. “Will you forgive me?”
It was not in her nature to hold onto hurt. Knight had apologized and explained things, and he’d been honest about Imogen from the start. Fancy couldn’t expect his feelings to change overnight; she had to give their marriage time to grow and blossom.
She nodded, ready to move on.
The tension eased from his features, a smile reaching his eyes. “Tell me what you have been up to, sweeting. I know you’ve been busy. Aunt Esther has been singing your praises to me.”
“Really?” she said in surprise.
His lips quirked. “She said, and I quote,there’s no lack of effort on the gel’s part. She is determined to become a proper duchess and to do you and the family name proud.Trust me, coming from Esther that is the highest of accolades. And she is tickled that you managed to wrangle an invitation to Princess Adelaide of Hessenstein’s salon.”
“Aunt Esther ’as been a good mentor to me. ’Er bark is worse than ’er bite, and I think she’s ’appy to ’ave something to do,” Fancy mused. “It must ’ave been lonely for ’er until you and your siblings came along and gave ’er a family.”
“We hardly qualify as a family,” Knight said dryly. “We are more like strangers stuck at an interminable house party with no hope of escape.”
Fancy had to grin at the description, which wasn’t far from the truth. Yet hearing his unspoken longing, she wanted to encourage him.
