Page 33 of Counting on a Countess
“Most men would demand their due,” she noted candidly.
“I’m not most men,” he pointed out.
A corner of her mouth tilted up. “So I am learning.”
As he looked into her eyes, a pang of confused longing reverberated through him. They’d entered into this marriage with their eyes open, knowing it was merely a means to an end. Yet he’d been drawn to her from the first when every other woman had been mysteriously lacking. There was desire for her, but there was a stronger pull beyond the needs of his body.
He wanted her to come to him willingly. For that, he’d wait as long as necessary.
Even if it killed him.
Chapter 9
A rare anxiety gnawed on Kit as he and Tamsyn looked at the facade of their new home. The town house on Bruton Street had pleased him the first time he’d seen it. Standing three stories tall—plus an attic where the servants slept—it had an elegant, modern appearance with a columned portico and rows of windows to let in plenty of sunlight. He’d toured it briefly two days earlier, but now found himself a little nervous as he awaited Tamsyn’s opinion.
“We can’t make too many changes,” he explained, “but I thought it would suit us. For a few months, anyway.” When she gave no reply, he held out his arm. “Shall we go inside?”
In response, she placed her hand on his sleeve. One of the staff that came with the house already had the door open, so Kit and Tamsyn strode inside.
They walked through the town home together, drifting from one room to the next, with Kit leading the tour. As he described the features of each chamber, he kept a close eye on her expression, trying to discern her thoughts.
“The drawing room has a good view of the street,” he pointed out, walking to the windows. “Lots of afternoon sun for callers.”
She said nothing as she turned in a small circle in the middle of the chamber. Her gaze touched here and there—on the aforementioned windows, at the plaster detailing on the ceiling, on the blue moiré sofa. Yet she kept quiet.
What was she thinking?
“I rented the furniture, too,” Kit went on. He walked to the sofa and ran his hand over the back upholstery. “It came with the place, but if you want something else, anything can be arranged.”
She nodded.
“Over here,” he said brightly, striding toward another chamber, “is the dining room. The table can seat sixteen comfortably.” He sounded like a sodding estate agent showing off properties to a client.
Tamsyn peered inside the dining room. The furnishings were more masculine here, with a long mahogany table in the middle and sixteen matching chairs arranged around it. Metal candle sconces on the walls would cast a pleasant light during dinner parties, especially gleaming off silver serving dishes and crystal goblets.
Again, she nodded, but didn’t speak.
She was silent, too, as they viewed the parlor on the ground floor and the large music room up a flight of stairs.
With each new, stylish room, he waited for her response. A smile, a frown.But her expression remained carefully neutral.
As they both looked at the sizable chandelier in the music room, he finally burst out, “For God’s sake, saysomething.” At her puzzled expression, he continued, “Do you love it? Hate it? I can’t sodding tell.”
“Does my opinion matter?” she asked with a puzzled frown.
“You’re going to live here,” he said, “and I want you to be happy, so of course it matters.”
A warm smile wreathed her face. “It’s wonderful, Kit. All of it. I couldn’t be more pleased.”
Relief and exasperation warred within him. “Why didn’t you say so?”
“I thought if I looked too eager, you’d think I married you for your money.” She wrinkled her nose.
His laugh was unexpected. “Oh, my dear,” he said between chuckles, “of courseyou married me for my money. Or at least,” he added, “for the money Iwillhave.”
She looked as though she wanted to say something, but then she pressed her lips together and shook her head. Yet the dispassionate expression she’d worn had given way to something more open, almost happy.
Hedidwant to make her happy. Why wouldn’t he? She was his wife, and though they’d entered into a marriage of convenience, he wasn’t a brute. Her contentment was his responsibility.
