Page 55 of Every Rake Has A Silver Lining

He needed a different approach. “If you allow me to come in, we can discuss it away from servants’ ears.”

Craning her neck, which also was quite kissable, she scanned the hallway. “I don’t see any servants.”

Admittedly, not his most effective approach. “Charlotte, you’re being childish. I’m your husband. Let me inside.”

“I’mbeing childish?! Ha!” Still, she threw the door open and stood aside, allowing him to enter.

When Simon turned around after closing the door, Drake’s words became reality. The challenge seemed insurmountable.

Charlotte crossed her arms over her chest, pushing her breasts up—the tops, round and luscious—peeking over the edge of her nightdress. “Well? I’m waiting.”

He summoned his most charming grin, the one where one side of his mouth lifted in careless ease. “Why don’t we discuss this on the bed?”

She continued to glare, unmoved.

No—wait. There was something—a shift in her eyes toward the bed, a slight bloom of color on her cheeks.

“No.”

“How long are we to dance around this?”

“Considering we’ve been married less than a day, and under unusual circumstances, no less, I would say as long as it takes. And I’m still waiting to hear where you were.”

“Am I to make an account of everywhere I go? Who I see? Speak with? What? For your approval? Like arealmarriage?”

She huffed and took a seat in a chair by the window. “I don’t want to argue with you. Not today.”

“Because it’s our wedding day?”

“Because it’s a day of joy for our dear friends. We shouldbothhave been by their sides. He didn’t say anything, but Drake wanted to show off his daughter to you.”

The knife, still lodged in his chest, twisted anew, and as always, he deflected the pain. “I’ll see her tomorrow. I spoke to Drake when I came home. He was the one who reminded me I had a bride waiting for me. Shall we keep the discussion centered on us for the time being?” Simply to vex her, he stretched out on the bed and patted the mattress.

“Fine. Where were you?”

“I paid a visit to the new gaming hell. Ran into a few familiar faces, met some new ones.”

“Which of your ruffian friends did you see?”

“Lord Montgomery. Mr. Weatherby. Although I don’t think they’d take too kindly to being called ruffians.” He waited for her reaction, sorely disappointed when she remained stoic. “They weren’t the only ones. Lord Felix Davies sullied the place with his presence.”

“Ugh. The Worm no doubt seized the opportunity to point out you were catting around instead of being with your new wife.”

“He did. And for that, I’m truly sorry, Charlotte. I had no idea he’d be there. If it helps, the owner, a tower of a man called The Captain, had him thrown out. Apparently it wasn’t the first time Davies caused a disturbance in the man’s club.”

With a faraway look in her eyes, Charlotte muttered, “I wonder . . .”

Simon straightened on the bed. “What?”

Her attention jerked back to him. “Nothing. Just something Miranda told us last year during the duke’s house party. How long has this new gaming hell been open?”

He shrugged. “About a year, I believe.” Something was brewing in that mind of hers. He had to give his wife credit. She wasn’t simply a pretty face. “If it makes you feel better, I wanted to strangle the man.”

“The owner?”

“No, of course not. Davies. The owner stopped me, said he quite understood.” He patted the bed again. “Am I forgiven? Perhaps a little physical demonstration of your understanding for the grievous neglect of my beautiful wife?”

Both of her dark eyebrows rose. “Does that actually work for you?”

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