Amelia turned to face her husband. Everything about him was iron and stone, from the expression on his face to the muscles exposed by his rolled-up shirtsleeves and open collar. She was not fooled by his casual lean against the doorframe. Every inch of him was tense.
“Good day,” she said. There. That was perfectly polite. This man might bring out the absolute worst in her, but she would make the effort. Last night, he had been rather gentlemanly for a commoner. Perhaps they could make it through the next few days without drawing blood.
“An inquisition before lunch, Lady Amelia?” There was nothing gentle about his tone. Whatever truce they’d come to last night was clearly over.
From her seated position, she was forced to look up at him, an abdication of power she wasn’t happy to bestow. She’d lost enough this week. She didn’t want to lose the upper hand as well.
“Hardly. There’s not a chain or stale bread in sight.”
“Yet an interrogation nonetheless.”
She rolled her eyes. Her husband was proving to be quite dramatic. “I wasn’t aware interrogations involved tea and lemon cake—the fuss about those prison hulks is clearly overstated.”
Benedict’s eyes bulged, and she felt some small satisfaction. She shouldn’t goad him. She knew she shouldn’t, but she’d tossed and turned half the night. The memory of his breath against her lips as he’d almost kissed her made her skin tingle, and every movement against the thin cotton sheet had been a reminder that prodded her awake.
And a lack of sleep did nothing to improve her mood.
Clearly trying to put on a good front for his sister, he moved out of the doorway and took the seat next to Cassandra. He looked ridiculous relaxing back against the delicate floral chair, which looked ready to collapse beneath him.
“I hope you’re enjoying your first day in your new home, my lady.”
“It might have started with a tour of the house, don’t you think?”
If he wanted to exchange sarcasms, she was more than ready. She was stuck, sleep-deprived in a strange house, in the middle of nowhere, married against her will, and with no more than a handful of dresses to her name. And he had the gall to be offended at the direction of her conversation?
His patience clearly splintered. “I would have offered, but you didn’t come down to join us at breakfast,” he said, his voice laden with false courtesy.
“I didn’t know the way.” She took a long sip of tea. He could be as sore-toothed as he liked. She’d withstood worse.
He smiled. “Ah, of course. My apologies. So we can expect you tomorrow then? We breakfast at seven.”
Seven? Not a chance. She placed her teacup back on the table between them and leaned forward. “Married women breakfast in bed.” And not at seven in the morning. Good grief.
“Of course.” Two words, but he used them as an obnoxious victory flag she wanted to smother him in.
“For goodness’ sakes, I’ve been looking forward to breakfast in bed since I was twelve. Must you take this from me too?”
“I’m twelve!”
Both of them turned toward Cassandra, who was giving Amelia a tentative smile.
Amelia swallowed the frustration, reining in the volume of her voice. The last thing she needed was to alienate the only ally she had in this house. “Twelve is a perfectly lovely age. I advise you to remain there for as long as possible.”
“We can take you for a tour now, if you like,” Cassandra said.
“That would be lovely,” Amelia replied, standing.
“Yes. Let’s.” Benedict also stood and offered Amelia his arm.
She didn’t want to take it. Maybe she was balking at the inherent power imbalance in him taking the lead, maybe it was because she wasn’t sure she wouldn’t burst into tears.
“Are we going?” Cassandra asked, taking Amelia’s other hand in hers, completely oblivious to the standoff.
Releasing a frustrated sigh, Benedict swept his arm wide. “This is the sitting room.”
“I had gathered,” she replied as dryly as she could muster. Cassandra giggled. He gave the two of them and their shared camaraderie a suspicious glare.
Out in the foyer, he indicated the room next to it. “That’s the dining room. Should you care to join us this evening. Through it is the kitchen.” He turned to indicate the rooms at the back. “This back room is the library.”
