Page 25 of One Wicked Secret
“I see.” She pressed her hand to the base of her throat and swallowed deeply. “What do we tell them? We can’t say our marriage is a sham. We can’t explain the story behind the two shillings. I presume they think Mr Carver resigned and works elsewhere.”
“Yes. Until last night, no one but Magnus and I knew the truth.” He cupped her elbow, urging her closer. “Can you pretend you’re in love with me, Elsa? Can we at least give the appearance of being happily married until we’ve found the journal and Carver’s murderer?”
Her uneasy wince said she would rather wrestle with the devil.
“Do I have a choice?”
“Not if you want to allay their suspicions.”
The servants had spent years suffering his father’s temper. He refused to let them endure similar tensions again.
“Surely they will see through our facade.”
“No, they won’t.” He reached for her hand, clasping her fingers, relieved she didn’t pull away. “No matter what you think of me, however strained our relationship, an attraction exists between us.”
“It does?” Her lips parted under the weight of his gaze.Her body still called to him in those vulnerable moments when her mind scrambled for control.
“We desire each other, Elsa.” There! He’d said it aloud. The secret neither of them had dared to utter hung in the air between them. “It’s evident in every irate glance and raised voice. It sparks to life every time we touch.” To prove the point, he cupped her cheek, relishing the sudden hitch of her breath. “It’s like the fading embers of a fire that should be roaring, but it’s not dead.”
She closed her eyes as if relishing the warmth of his hand, a brief moment where the world felt right again. “No, it’s not dead.”
He sensed her hesitation. “But?”
“I have lived a lie these last six months.” Elsa glanced at Clara and Rutland, who decided it was better to knock on the front door than eavesdrop. “I’m not sure I have the strength to pretend.”
“I’m not asking you to pretend.”
He might have said more, but the front door swung open, and Mrs McGregor fell over herself with excitement.
“Miss Dalton! I cannae believe yer home at last.” The white-haired housekeeper gripped Clara’s shoulders, absorbing every detail before drawing her into an embrace. “I feared I’d meet my maker before setting eyes on ye again.”
Clara hugged Mrs McGregor. “You did receive my parcels?”
Daniel’s heart skipped a beat. “Parcels?” He stepped beneath the portico, still loosely gripping his wife’s hand. “How long have you been corresponding?”
Clara shot him a defensive look. “We’re not corresponding. I sent Mrs McGregor new gloves for her Christmas box.”
“And the most delicate lace doily from a luxury mercer inCovent Garden,” Mrs McGregor added. “I carry the embroidered handkerchief from Windsor in my pocket.” She hugged Clara again. “Ye always were a thoughtful lass.”
Daniel smiled to himself. It was good to see his housekeeper looking happy, healthy, and not exhausted from his father’s constant demands. “Might we come inside, Mrs McGregor?”
“Good Lord above. I beg yer pardon, sir. Where are my manners?” She ushered them into the grand hall, her grin broadening when she saw Elsa. “Mrs Dalton. ’Tis a pleasure to welcome you home to Thorncroft.”
Elsa released Daniel’s hand and touched Mrs McGregor gently on the upper arm. “During our many conversations in the woods, who knew we’d be living under the same roof one day?”
Mrs McGregor chuckled. “Aye. As far as I recall, we talked more than we foraged. I was over the moon when ye married the master and have been counting the days until yer return.”
Elsa chose that moment to pretend she loved him. She hugged his arm, her fingers sliding over his bicep. “Mr Dalton had important business in London, but we’re happy to be home.”
Every stroke of Elsa’s fingers hardened his cock. He would feel the ache of loneliness when she released him. But if he hoped to salvage anything from the wreckage of their marriage, earning her trust came before seduction.
Rutland stepped forward. “I see you’ve still got that bonnie twinkle in your eyes, Mrs McGregor.”
While Clara tutted, the housekeeper blushed. “Away with ye. Ye always were a charming devil. I suppose ye want yer favourite room and think ye deserve some privileges.”
Rutland laughed. “As we failed to give you prior warning of our arrival, I will happily take any room available.”
Mrs McGregor gave a playful chuckle. “As it happens, I had prior warning. The blue room is ready and waiting. I’ve even put yer favourite book of poems on the nightstand.”
