Page 66 of The Heiress Gets a Duke
“Unfortunately, writing it down does nothing to prompt later enforcement. I am yours bodily after marriage. I simply wanted things to be understood between us.”
He stared at her with a peculiar look on his face. It seemed to suggest disbelief coupled with something she could not name straightaway. “So you agree?” she asked.
“Yes.”
“Good.” She dipped the pen in ink and made a check mark, forcing herself to move on to the next point. “The next is slightly more delicate but no less important.” She had to clear her throat again before continuing. “It concerns you more than me, so I would prefer your honest input.” He gave her a single nod. “I am aware that things are done differently here than in New York, and I am willing to concede marginally on this one point.” Though it pained her to do so. Even writing the words had caused her an ache that she did not altogether understand. “It is my understanding that it is customary for a man of your position to keep a... well...” Why was it so difficult to say the word? It was a fact of his world, was it not? She cleared her throat again. “A m-mistress.” The word settled between them like a stone plunging to the bottom of a lake. “I would demand that you do not set one up until after we are finished with children.”
His voice sounded strangled when he asked, “Does that mean that the physical part of our relationship would be over at that time?”
She nodded and forced herself to look at him. “That isprecisely it. If you would like to consort with someone else, then we would not...” Her face flamed and she could not say it. “We would not... anymore.”
He ran his hand over his face, much as he had on the previous point. “I do not intend to have a mistress.”
“We are not a love match. I do understand that you may seek one out. Actually, to be sure, this includes all women, not simply one you may set up as mistress.” She stopped talking when he rose and began to pace, his movements jerky and short. His broad shoulders shifted restlessly under the fine wool of his coat.
When she had made the list in her bedroom, the idea of a mistress had been dispassionate and another point on the list. Now, however, being this close to him and having the heated imprint of his hands still on her body, well, it seemed vulgar and maddening. She did not like it one bit and was tempted to strike out the possibility completely. The more she imagined him kissing some other woman as he had kissed her, the angrier it made her. “In fact, I demand that you are not to be seen with any woman. If you have one now...”
Where had that thought come from? It had never occurred to her that he might have a mistress. Did he? Had he touched her so intimately in Camille’s library only to go to his mistress afterward? Nausea churned in her stomach. “If you have one, then you must give her up immediately.”
He looked at her as if she had grown a second head. “You think I have a mistress? Are you mad? I have been too busy of late trying to save my estates to even consider the expense of one.”
Some devil made her ask, “But you had one before?”
He shook his head. “I have never felt the need to confine myself to one woman.”
It was a reminder that he had never intended to and likely never would confine himself to her alone. Oil trickled onto the seething blaze of her anger. “What of that dancer... Madame Laurent... She is not your mistress?” The woman was beautiful, had been present at his fight, and had appeared proprietary with him.
“No.”
“But she is your...” What was the word for a woman a man slept with but was not responsible for? “Lover?”
“Friend. We are friends, and yes, I have known her intimately, but not for several years.”
She nodded and pretended to study the paper. However, all she could see was the two of them in bed together. The parchment trembled with her suppressed and unreasonable rage, so she laid it back down. One was not supposed to become emotional during negotiations.
“She attends most of the matches,” he explained. “She enjoys them, and the crowd enjoys her. Her presence promotes attendance and betting.”
All perfectly reasonable. Only she could not stop imagining them together, the beautiful woman’s hand on his shoulder, proclaiming an ownership in that simple touch. It was a claim that August would never have. The black against white of ink on parchment could not give her that. And did she even want it, knowing that the arrangement had been coerced?
Yes!she realized with a start that nearly propelled her to her feet. She wanted it very much. Her anger was rooted in jealousy. She was jealous and possessive of this husband she hadn’t wanted. Only now she very much wanted more than a negotiated marriage.
“What else is there?” He was behind her, looking down over her shoulder. “May I?” His brows lifted as he stared at the paper.
“Yes.” She moved her fingers to give him an unobstructed view.
“Yes to the jointure. I suppose it is wise that you are considering my early demise, even if it is unsettling.” He paused to read the next point. “Yes to the account in your name and the allowance. It is your money, after all. Ah, the fighting matches.”
“I believe they’re dangerous. You should not put yourself in danger that way.”
Grinning at her, he said dryly, “There will hardly be a reason after my accounts are funded. I will still participate in sport matches at the club from time to time.”
She nodded, taken aback by the force of his smile so close. It was the same one he had given her that night in the warehouse match. He turned his attention back to the parchment, skimming the rest of the list, which contained everything from provisions about educating the children of the tenant farmers to stipulating that she could visit her family as she wanted. “Yes to all of it.”
He reached over and gently took the pen from her. The warmth of his body encased her, and his scent washed over her, taking her back to kissing him at this very table. His grip on the pen seemed particularly harsh as he signed his name with a flourish.
“Do you not have anything to add?” she asked.
“You seem to have thought of everything.” His tone was perfectly practical, but his jaw was clenched tight, indicating his displeasure.
