“I’m trying to understand.”
He shook his head as if weary. “Rissa, perhaps I want you to wantme.”
The explanation stunned her. She had a say? Had she really expected him to honor her terms about intimacy? And what was this “wanting”?
And why did she like hearing him call her Rissa?
“It’s intimacy,” he said as if sensing her confusion. “I think I’m beginning to want more than just to bed you. There’s something about you. You are good. And honest—” He shook his head. “You need to dress. We should be on the road.”
He stood and started for the door. “I’ll wait for you downstairs. Hodner will come up for our valises.” He would have left but she stopped him with a question.
“Mars?” He paused, a hand on the door. “What if I wanted you to bed me? What do we become then?”
Her husband studied her as if weighing her request. Clarissa felt as if it was suddenly hard to breathe.She’dasked that question. It was so bold. She’d always been the one to react, never act—and yet, here she was opening herself to being more vulnerable than she had ever been with another person.
Mars took his hand off the door. “We can be whatever you wish. The decision is yours. I’ll wait as long as it takes.” On that note, he left the room.
Clarissa stared at the closed door. He would letherchoose for the two of them?
She rose slowly from the bed, feeling as if a new person was inhabiting her body. He wanted her. The Earl of Marsden, everyone’s favorite rake, had admitted he wished to bed her. But the final decision would be hers.
And how would she decide? If they did this, if they became husband and wife in the truest sense of the words, could she trust him not to hurt her?
It was the unanswerable question.
And she knew he would want one.
They reached the city by late midday.
Neither of them brought up the conversation they’d had that morning. Instead they had continued as the day before with books and cards... and yet there was a wealth of unspoken words between them.
Of course, his London home was on Grosvenor Square, the most fashionable address in the city. His house’s façade was painted white brick with a stately black lacquered door and window boxes overflowing with hyssop and delicate periwinkle blossoms.
A hive of servants came running out to welcome them. They lined up inside the door to pay their respects to Clarissa.
The front hall of Marsden House was much smaller than Belvoir’s. What it lacked in size, it made up for in the quality of decorations and furnishings.
This was the home of a very wealthy family. The floor was a pattern of gray and white marble tiles. More portraits of Mars’s ancestors decorated the walls.They are everywhere,Mars had warned her shortly after they married.Portrait after portrait of people looking like me. She understood what he meant now.
The butler was Dalton, a surly looking man with an eye patch. He was not as tall as Gibson and appeared a bit scrappy. Still, Clarissa caught a twinkle in his eye as he welcomed her and sensed the two of them would manage well together. He offered the staff’s congratulations on their marriage.
In contrast to Belvoir, this house had a housekeeper, a Mrs. Williams, who greeted Clarissa and offered a tour of the premises when she was ready.
Mars’s secretary was Lowton, the one he claimed always took care of everything for him, including wages. Lowton wore spectacles on the end of his long nose and practically jumped with joy at the sight of Mars.
“I’m beyond thankful you are here, my lord,” he said. “Lady Fenton has been breathing down our necks.” He spoke with such relief, Clarissa surmised that he’d had his doubts that Mars would make an appearance. “And may I say, my lord, you are looking particularly well.”
“Thank you, Lowton. And before you begin chiding me over matters I’ve ignored, I want to introduce my wife to you. You will find in her a willing ally in seeing that I meet all of my obligations.”
Lowton bowed deeply. “My lady. It is an honor.”
He was so formal, Clarissa almost forgot herself and curtseyed. She was saved by the squeeze of Mars’s hand on her elbow, a reminder of sorts. “It is a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Lowton.”
“You have prepared the paperwork I requested for my wife and me to sign?” Mars said.
“I have, my lord. I am ready to present it at your convenience.”
“Let us see to the matter on the morrow. Meanwhile, Dalton, send a tray to our room. I’m famished.” Mars took Clarissa’s hand and led her up a curved staircase. “I have something special to show you,” he told her.
