Dangerous.
Destructive.
The next morning,when Catherine walked into the sunroom to join him for breakfast, he clenched the paper in his grasp a bit tighter. Without a thought to crinkling the edges, he discovered that the lack of sleep he’d had the previous night, combined with the discussion he’d had with his wife, had completely unsettled him. Was he doomed to pay for his past mistakes for all eternity? He’d finally found a woman to whom he was starting to lose his heart and all she cared for was her retaliation against the Black Widow. Granted, he had sown the seeds at the beginning, but revenge no longer mattered to him. Catherine was all that concerned him now, as well as the babe she carried. He was willing to put everything else to rest to concentrate on the future. But apparently, she was still angered by their arrangement.
There was one bright spot in all of this, however. And that was the knowledge that she wanted him as much as he wanted her. The passion that had flowed freely between them last night had not been fabricated. It’d been real. He just had to convince her that their marriage could be built on a firm foundation.
At one time, people had called him coldhearted. Most had accused him of having no heart at all. And yethewas the one hoping to gain his wife’s regard. He supposed that was what he would call irony.
“Good morning.”
Catherine’s melodic voice sounded cheery enough, but it was difficult for Benjamin to express the same nonchalance. He offered a noncommittal response as he kept the paper firmly in place in front of him, fearful that his face would express his inner turmoil.
“Could you please lower that dreadful print?” she asked with an exasperated sigh. “My father lived behind the papers and I would like it if I didn’t have to speak to you through an impenetrable wall.”
Clenching his jaw, Benjamin folded the paper and set it carefully on the table at his side. Folding his arms across his abdomen, he looked at her steadily. “I am all yours, my dear, to do with whatever you wish.”
The double entendre was not lost on her as her cheeks abruptly filled with color. Keeping her face carefully averted, she concentrated on slathering butter on her toasted bread. “I was hoping we might make a list of the people who were wed through the Lyon’s Den’s machinations and see how they might be faring.”
He lifted a brow. “That might take some time to compile.”
She shrugged. “I’m patient.”
“Very well. I shall hire someone to look into the matter.”
With the bread poised at her slightly parted lips, Benjamin had an image of that same luscious mouth surrounding his cock and he had to shift in his seat. “You don’t think we should just return to London and begin a few discreet inquires? We might get the chance to speak to a couple or two—”
“Impossible.” He shook his head. “I have already made arrangements for builders to come by to discuss work on the house. I am needed here for the time being. And if you want to offer any input on the furnishings, it would be a good idea for you to remain as well.”
She offered a slight moue of disappointment. “I claimed patience and yet I don’t seem to be expressing it, am I?” She wrinkled her nose. “I shall leave the expertise in your investigator’s capable hands and concentrate my efforts on being the perfect baroness for Fontaine Hall.”
Benjamin smiled.Thatwas a sentiment he could fully support.
Chapter Seven
By the timethe builders had arrived to speak with her husband, Catherine had jotted down a few ideas for how she wanted to change the parlor and a few of the other rooms. She was glad that Benjamin had given her free rein to do whatever she wished, trusting her judgment implicitly. She had to wonder if it wasn’t just because he didn’t want to be bothered with the project, more concerned about repairing the roof and structure of the manor before it began to crumble about their ears.
Although she was still annoyed about her current situation, Catherine was glad to bring some life back into this magnificent house. She had always been an advocate for the preservation of English history and Fontaine Hall was a grand example of that.
After the workers had taken notes and promised to return the following day with materials to begin work, they took their leave. When they were gone, Benjamin approached her. “I noticed that you didn’t mention altering the nursery.”
Catherine put a hand to her stomach. “I actually forgot about it, truth be told.”
He held his arm out to her. “Let’s go inspect it now, shall we?”
She accepted his offering, and together, they made their way to the third floor. Half of the main section of the sprawling estate was dedicated to heirs of Fontaine Hall with a massive room containing a few slate boards stacked neatly in a box in the corner, as well as a rocking horse that looked ready for a small child to climb onto its back. There were other various toys and books scattered about. Adjoining this room was a bedchamber, presumably for the governess, and a few more closed doors down the hall Benjamin told her were additional chambers.
“How many children have grown up here?” Catherine had meant it as more of a jest, but he seemed to ponder her question.
“I would say close to fifty since the estate and grounds were granted to my great-great-great grandfather.”
Her eyes widened. “Seriously?”
“Indeed. The Fontaine men have generally been known for their desire to procreate. Or, at least, practice the art.” He lifted a brow at her and she narrowed her eyes at him.
“I don’t care to have fifteen children when I have yet to deliver one.”
“Duly noted,” he murmured with an amused twist of his lips. “We should concentrate on a healthy delivery before we consider if we want any more.”
