Page 56 of Mail-Order Viscountess

“Consummate the marriage.” She said it flatly, like stating a business transaction.

His chest tightened. “Yes.”

She pulled back. Maybe not in physical distance. But a wall dropped over her eyes, shuttering her feelings away from him. “I’ll move my things back to Clara’s room then.”

He’d hurt her. In trying to be noble, once again, he’d messed up.

He had to fix it. Now.

He stepped sideways to block her from moving around him. “Kate, I would be honored—truly honored—if you would share this room with me. I won’t touch you until we’re both ready, but I’d love your company.”

She paused and eyed him. He held his breath, praying she could see his sincerity. For a long moment, she simply stared at him.

Then it came—just a flicker, there and gone. A shadow of relief passing through her eyes before she hid it.

He’d made the right choice.

“You mean that.” It wasn’t quite a question.

“I do.” He allowed a small smile. “Seems I’m saying that a lot today.”

The corner of her mouth twitched—not quite a grin, but close enough. Some of the tension eased from her shoulders.

“Very well.” She inclined her head in that formal way she had, like a queen accepting the terms of a treaty. “I appreciate your...consideration.”

It wasn’t consideration—it was simple decency, the bare minimum any man should offer his wife. But Kate had likely known too little of decency in her life to recognize it as standard rather than unusual.

So instead, he just nodded. “I’ll leave you to settle in. Take whatever space you need in the wardrobe. Just move my clothes over or set them aside.”

He escaped before he could say anything else foolish. Before he could tell her how beautiful she’d looked walking down the stairs. Before he could admit that the taste of her lips during their wedding kiss had kept him distracted through the entire breakfast.

Time. They both needed time.

A few hours later, he stood in the hallway outside his own bedchamber door again. He’d become like a stranger in his own home.

He’d given Kate time to prepare for bed, staying overlong in the great room to sit by the dying fire and pretend to read. James had given him an odd look. Robert raised an eyebrow. Mrs. Wang had pressed a cup of warm milk into his hands with a sympathetic pat that somehow made everything worse.

Now the house had settled into nighttime quiet—just the creak of old timbers and the distant howl of wind across the mountains. The strip of light beneath his door had dimmed, suggesting Kate already extinguished most of the lamps.

He was regretting his noble promise.

Not because he intended to break it—he’d meant every word. But standing here in the cold hallway, knowing his wife waited on the other side of that door, knowing he would lie beside her all night without touching her...

God had a sense of humor, clearly.

He raised his hand and knocked on his own door.

“Come in.” The wood muffled Kate’s voice.

He turned the handle and stepped inside.

The room was dim, lit only by a single lamp on the bedside table turned down to its lowest setting. Kate already lay in bed, the quilts pulled up to her chin, her honey blonde hair in a much looser braid than her usual tight style.

She looked...

What was the right word? Beautiful, yes. But more than that. Soft in a way Kate almost never allowed herself to appear. Younger. More vulnerable.

The sight hit him somewhere beneath his sore ribs.