Page 70 of My Deceitful Duchess
He gave a short nod, though he shifted uncomfortably in his chair. He hadn’t imagined shewould—but that she was willing to lay it out in such terms before Lord and Lady Clybourne attested to the depths of her disregard.
“To be perfectly frank, Mr. Knight…” Her hands curled around her tea cup, which she lifted to her lips, hiding her face. “All I want of you is your name.”
He didn’t think that was precisely true. But, as she’d said only an hour or so ago, she didn’twantto want anything more of him.Patiencewas not exactly a virtue he’d cultivated of late, but he could give it a reasonable attempt. He owed her that. “Agreed,” he said. “So long as Sundays are mine.”
“Sundays?” Lady Clybourne echoed incredulously. “You haveno rightto make demands—”
“Lottie,” Jenny said, gently. “Please, don’t upset yourself.” Her eyes drifted to the swell of Lady Clybourne’s belly through the fabric of her dressing gown.
Jenny had four months or so before she would look the same, her condition undisguisable. It was only the generous cuts of Lady Clybourne’s gowns that could obscure her pregnancy at all—likely she would soon begin her confinement. Certainly she had already curtailed her public appearances.
“Sundays,” Jenny repeated, though her voice had grown somewhat brittle with the strain of it all. “All right, then.”
“Beginningnow.” What had happened to hispatience? “Midnight to midnight.”
Lord Clybourne took a single step from his position near the door. “Now, see here—”
Jenny stopped him with only a glance. To Sebastian, she said, “A bit excessive, I feel.”
“It’s one day out of seven,” he said. “That amounts to a little over fourteen percent of your time. Is fourteen percent so very much to ask?” And it would give him the right to accompany her on her walks, where he could be assured of her safety.
“I suppose not.” But her lashes flickered, and there was a tightness to her jaw.
Lady Clybourne had not been well pleased—either at his demand, or Jenny’s response to it. She thought Jenny was making a mistake, though it was clear enough that Jenny was resigned to her course. She might notvoiceit, but it hovered there in the air anyway, that barely-masked antipathy in which she held him. And he could not blame her for it. He held himself in little enough esteem at the moment.
“A contract.” Ever the consummate businesswoman, Lady Clybourne pushed herself to her feet, one hand settled protectively over the curve of her stomach. “We’ll write one out, it will—”
“It would never hold up in court,” Lord Clybourne said, with a shake of his head. “A man can’t sign away his rights to his wife. They are one person under the law.”
“There is no need for that,” Jenny said. “Mr. Knight will keep to his word.” At last her eyes lifted, cool and serene. “And if he does not…I know well enough how to disappear.”
∞∞∞
“You’ll pardon me,” Sebastian said from behind her as Jenny passed the threshold of his front door, “but I did not particularly care to have the Clybournes breathing down the back of my neck for the remainder of the day.”
“It makes no difference to me.” There was a strange rustling from the floor above, followed by a distinctthumpand the clatter of nails.
“Charlie,” Sebastian said wryly. “He’s taken to sleeping in the bed. I can’t break him of the habit.”
“You could close the door.”
“I’ve tried. He whines.” And yet, once Charlie had thundered down the stairs, his entire backside waggling in an overt show of joy, still Sebastian gave him a fond scratch beneath the chin. “Damned pitiful dog. Havesomedignity.”
It was rather a lot to ask of a dog.
“He missed you,” Sebastian said. “Every morning he waits at the door for the walk to the bakery. He’s grown accustomed to profiteroles.”
“I missed him.” There didn’t seem a reason to deny it. “I’m not certain why I’m here,” she said. “You have got to sleep sometime.” And it was so late already. She might have grown used to such hours, but he wasnot.
He shook his head, and a lock of golden hair tumbled over his forehead. “Not tonight. Not if this is all the time I have.”
Fourteen percent. She swallowed. “Ishall have to sleep sometime.”
“Sleep if you like.Whenyou like. But you will do it here. Tea?” He ambled past her, into the small kitchen, sifting through drawers and cabinets in search of the necessary accoutrements.
“I said I would not sleep with you.” There was an awkwardness in it now, being within this house that would be hers, and yetnothers. As if she would have less right to it as a wife than she had had as a lover.
“I have not asked you to do so.” A long silence fell, minutes ticking by as she stood uncomfortably near the door, worrying Charlie’s floppy ear between her fingers. Sebastian did not seem displeased by her lack of response, but then she suspected he wasusedto silence. And when at last he emerged from the kitchen, with a tray held in his hands, it was only to lead the way upstairs.
