Chapter Eighteen
A husband has the right to a wife’s body.
The Rules (according to Dara)
Actually, it is aprivilegeif she gives herself to him, and a blessing if he knows how to make her happy.
Tweedie’s correction
Michael knew neither Teddy nor his secretary, Elliot, was in his rooms upstairs.
In fact, earlier, while he’d been helping Michael dress for the wedding, Teddy had taken it upon himself to list all the changes he believed needed to be made now that there was a mistress among them. On the list were the rental of a decent house, one befitting a man of Michael’s station and, of course, more servants.
“You should also consider hiring a coach for your needs while in town,” Teddy had said.
“Holsworthy is cutting off all funds,” Michael had pointed out. “There is Ian’s education, Mother’s living, and my soon-to-be wife’s family to care for. A coach might be too much.”
“You haven’t spent a shilling of the money Lord Holsworthy has given you over the years,” Teddy countered. “I discussed this with Elliot. You can manage a coach.”
Michael knew when he was outvoted. “I shall leave that to you.”
“Very well, sir. Also, just for your knowledge, I shall make myself scarce this evening.”
“Thank you, Teddy,” Michael had answered, copying the servant’s clipped approval—and had earned one of Teddy’s rare smiles.
“Good luck on your marriage, sir.”
Now, as Michael led Dara up the stairs to his rooms, he was glad they were going to be alone. Because suddenly, he had doubts.
What if she truly didn’t have feelings for him?
Her kisses hinted at her passion, but she’d also protested this marriage. He had noticed her reaction to Elise’s presence. Her sister’s anger, as childish as he found it, disturbed Dara.
He also wondered if she understood he wantedherfor his wife. No other. Yes, the circumstances had made for quick decisions, except he was pleased with how things had transpired. And he believed his respect, his devotion, and, yes, his love for Dara would only grow over time—ifshe returned his feelings.
Michael opened the door to his apartments,determined to give the most persuasive speech of his life. One that would convince his petite wife, a woman who had the mind of a barrister, that his commitment to her was real, in spite of the short time of their acquaintance. He planned to confess that he didn’t know what she wanted from this marriage, but his mind was quite clear. He wanted everything. A lover, a partner, a confidante... a conscience. Oh, yes, he was pleased with his choice of wife.
He turned the key in the lock and opened the door. He stepped aside to let her enter first. She moved past him. The late-afternoon sun filling the front room caught the strands of gold in her brown hair and gilded the yellow in her dress.
Michael shut the door and set his hat on a side table. Dear God, he prayed he didn’t botch this—
“I grew up in the country, Michael.” She removed her gloves. “I know what is expected... although I’m not quite clear on some details. I assume you will show me.”
For a blink, he was speechless, and he almost laughed, because was there anyone like her? She’d take charge of even this. She went right to the heart of the matter. So could he. “Then you are fine with this marriage?”
She tilted her head. “Are you suggesting that—” She paused, frowned. “We donotconsummate our marriage?”
That suggestion stopped him. Is that what she was thinking? He prayed not and yet decided to take on the subject. “You’ve had your doubts.”
“It has happened quickly.” She didn’t shy away.
“True.”
“And Elise is very angry.” Her hands closed into fists around the yellow leather gloves, as if she was anxious.
“She has no reason to be—”
“Oh, please. You can be honest, Michael. Any man would prefer her over me—”
