James glanced again toward the adjoining wall. “She will be seen as settled.”
“And cherished,” Thomas added, quietly.
James’s gaze sharpened. “Careful.”
Thomas bowed his head slightly. “Forgive me. A duchess must appear cherished.”
James held his stare for a moment, then looked away, irritation stirring because the word had landed too close to something he did not want examined.
“Yes,” James said. “Appear.”
He moved toward the sideboard, removed his cravat with controlled motions, and handed his coat to Thomas. The valet took it as though James’s restlessness was just another garment to manage.
“We will need the steward,” James said.
Thomas nodded immediately. “Tonight?”
“Now,” James replied. “I want the schedule prepared before morning.”
Thomas stepped toward the bellpull, then paused. “Your Grace.”
James looked up.
Thomas’s expression was mild, but his eyes were sharp. “You should sleep. If only to be able to pretend you have.”
James’s mouth tightened. “I will sleep when the house is secure.”
Thomas inclined his head. “Your Grace.”
He pulled the bell.
The sound echoed faintly.
James stood in the dim lamplight, listening again to Eleanor’s footsteps next door, and felt a strange, unwelcome certainty settle in his chest.
Still pacing.
This marriage was not going to remain clean.
Not with Eleanor Barker on the other side of a wall.
And as the household stirred quietly to obey, James found himself staring at the door to Eleanor’s rooms with an intensity he would have called dangerous in any other man.
CHAPTER 10
“You are drinking your tea as though it has offended you.”
Eleanor looked up from the cup she had been staring into for entirely too long. The surface of the tea had gone perfectly still, reflecting the chandelier above the breakfast table like a small, trapped sun.
James sat across from her with the same precise posture he had worn at their wedding breakfast, at the vestry table, and in the carriage. He ate as if eating were a task, not a pleasure. Knife and fork moved with measured economy. No wasted motion. No lingering.
“I have not said anything about the tea,” Eleanor replied.
“You have not had to.” His gaze dropped briefly to her untouched plate. “You have not eaten.”
“I am not hungry.”
James’s mouth tightened in a way that suggested he did not believe in appetites unless they were rational and scheduled.
