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She chewed on her lower lip, looking unconvinced.

Every time she moved, her breasts shifted unsteadily, setting his blood on fire. He glanced down: his personal clothespin had tented the bed, though Torie apparently hadn’t noticed.

Leaving it to fate, he crossed his arms behind his head, ridiculously pleased by the way his wedding ring looked on her finger.

“Why is it so light in here?” Torie asked crossly, avoiding his eyes.

“No maid drew the curtains, since we were supposed to be engaged in the all-important activity of validating our marriage with bodily union.” Dominic felt awash in affection for his wife, which was a good start to a marriage—especially combined with the undertow of desire that nearly crippled him whenever he was in her presence.

A gentle knock on the door signaled the entrance of an upstairs maid, carrying a tray with a teapot and a bunch of bluebells. The trays he’d been sent up till now had no flowers, so presumably they were a delicate recognition of his married state.

“Good morning, my lady, my lord,” the girl murmured, placing the tray on Torie’s side.

“She never looked at the bed,” Torie observed after the door closed. “My maid, Emily, could never have been so circumspect.” She cleared her throat. “Emily would have been scandalized.”

So she had noticed the clothespin.

“Flitwick’s staff is excellently trained,” Dominic said. “May I have a cup of black tea?”

When Torie turned to pick up the teapot, the delicate silk of her nightgown pulled against her breasts. His erection throbbed against the sheet. He felt like a boy again: any moment he’d start to doodle nipples the way they used to. Breasts and nipples in endless variation.

“They’ve marmaladed our toast,” Torie said, handing him a thick linen napkin, followed by a cup of tea and a plate with two pieces of bread.

He spread the napkin over his crotch, pressing downwards in a silent reminder to his body that he was a grown man and fully in charge. “That’s the way I like it, but you can ask for plain butter tomorrow.”

“Don’t you think this is going a bit far in convincing the household that our marriage has been consummated?” she burst out once she sat back against the headboard, tea in hand.

“I’ve never shared a breakfast tray with a woman before, but now I look forward to marmalade toast with you for the next eighty years.” Dominic couldn’t help his cheerfulness. Even though they needed to have a serious conversation, and he had to apologize again, he was happy.

Full of happiness as a cistern after a rainstorm, though that wasn’t a poetic phrase.

His wife’s eyes flashed at him, and he could almost see her building up a “head of steam,” as the Duchess of Huntington had said of her engine.

“How interesting! I would have imagined you and the lovely Gianna sharing many such meals, given her famous propensity for drinking pink champagne for breakfast.”

“Never with me,” he said, taking a bite of toast. Then he added, “Gianna enjoys embroidering the facts, and apparently she sees reporters as fair game.”

“Let me explicate something for you, Dominic,” Torie said. “I do not want to know anything about your mistress, not a detail, not a word. I am merely your nanny at the moment. We will not sleep together again until you—”

“She’s gone,” he interrupted.

Torie blinked. “No— What? Gone?”

“Has been gone,” he said, not smugly, because he should have told her the moment the subject came up yesterday.

“After our conversation?”

“No. Months ago, she sold the house I bought her and moved back to Italy.”

Torie choked on her tea. “What?”

“Before you ask, I did not replace her.”

No one—no one—greeted his statements with such an expression of incredulity. His opponents hated his passionate arguments, but they respected the facts he brought forward. They didn’t question that he offered the truth.

Perversely, Torie’s skepticism and her temper-filled eyes aroused him even more than the sight of her erotically clad in lace.

“Here’s the kicker,” he said, a trace of satisfaction leaking into his voice. “She’s newly married to an Italian conte. A count.”