“Lizzie, I…”
“I mean it, sir.” She’d had a thick volume tucked under her arm.
“I came to?—”
The book had flown, and he’d ducked, just in time.
“Elizabeth, please let me?—”
“Speak?Nowyou wish to speak?” She’d marched right up and poked his chest, making him step back.
“You did not let me speak.” She’d poked again, harder. “While you convalesced, you let everyone but me, your wife, visit. Why?” Poke. “What did I do but try to comfort and support you? Why do you refuse me, Jasper?Why?” Her sharp, grey eyes had pleaded with such pain he’d stumbled from her chamber and slammed the adjoining door behind him, gasping against the wall like some goddamned gutted fish.
And now, seated at his neatly ordered desk, the memory of that moment made everything ache anew. He had no ardor left for life, let alone bodily congress. He’d not go near her till they must embark upon a second heir; he didn’t trust himself. Should Elizabeth require servicing she could avail herself of one of Li’s men. So long as she didnotbed Kilpert.
Though why Lizzie bedding Paul should disturb him so bloody much made no bloody sense. He really shouldn’t care. And why the devil did he sneak into her room nights while she slept, to stare at her face, which only in sleep looked peaceful anymore?
A footman entered and delivered the day’s post, jarring Milton from his despair. He sorted the stack but stopped short at a letter embossed with the one seal in Christendom that had the power to strike dread in his heart: the Duke of Lennox.
Elizabeth stared into her dressing mirror, Ginny readying her for bed, when her husband, the bastard, barged in.
“Leave us,” he ordered Ginny, who scurried off so fast Elizabeth hadn’t even time to bid her maid good night.
He rudely tossed a letter at her, demanding, “What is the meaning of this?”
She glanced at the seal. “I assume we’ve been invited to a ball, sir.”
“Did you orchestrate this?”
“And if I did?”
“Answer the question, Elizabeth.”
“Goodness, my husband knows my name. How shocking.”
“Blast it, Lizzie, did you or did you not secure us this invitation?” He stepped closer.
“I did not, sir. I presume Lady Stanton did, despite my protestations.”
“So you admit you are behind this invitation.”
“No, Lady Stanton offered to procure us an invitation, and I told her it would displease my husband if she did.”
“But you visited her. You chose to call upon a lady you’ve made abundantly clear you despise.”
“Oddly enough, I find her company now preferable to that ofothers.”
He winced. “Elizabeth, I do not wish to curtail your freedom more, but if your calls elicit invitations like this, I willinsist on approving all visits in advance, or accompanying you to them.”
She lunged from her seat, stopping herself just in time. “Curtail me?” Her heart raced. “I am already yourprisoner for life, so you will not order me about. You lost that right. And asfor your six bloody rules, they are null and void. Do you hear me, sir? Null and void! I will not obey you. I will see whom I like and do as I please, and you will put up with it, because I am your wife in name only, sir, no longer in deed!”
Milton’s face turned a shade so white he looked like he might faint. Or murder her.
“I am no longer your wife because you do not treat me like one,” she raged on. “You share nothing with me anymore—I do not know where you go or whom you visit nights. Nor do I care. I will bear your heirs, but that is all you will get from me. Do you understand what I say, sir? I want nothing to do with you. Nothing.”
Milton’s face clouded ominously. “I’ll show you a whole new goddamn set of rules for provoking me, woman.” He dragged her to a chair and flung her, head down, over his lap, where he proceeded to lift her shift and strike her bottom with such vehemence she gasped.
“You cannot treat me like this!” She squirmed to escape his blows. “You cannot, you bastard, you cannot!”
