Page 28 of Secrets of the Marriage Bed
‘Oh, no. I am sure this will not continue. I would love to ride out with...on Bella.’ She had been about to saywith you, but after their one ride he had not asked her to go with him again. She had no wish to put him on the spot, either force him to go with her when he did not want to, or have him tell her she was not welcome.
He rubbed Bella’s nose. ‘Good. Why don’t we hack out tomorrow morning, if you are sufficiently recovered by then? I have to look in on all my tenants over the next few weeks and it will be a good way for you to get to know the countryside and the people hereabouts.’
It seemed her fears were groundless. A lightness entered her chest. ‘I would love to. We also have to pay a call on the Marquess, once we are settled.’
‘I will send a note over and enquire when it might be convenient to call.’
She smiled up at him and he actually smiled back. A rather fleeting affair, but still a smile. Who was this charming man? And what had he done with her dark and dangerous dissolute duke?
* * *
The next morning, Alistair, at the sideboard, filled his plate with fluffy scrambled eggs and several rashers of bacon, his ears alert for the sound of his wife, who had promised to join him at breakfast. He had suggested she retire right after dinner and had been wishing ever since that she had objected to leaving him by himself.
He shook his head at the irritating thought and the resultant restless night. Theirs was a marriage of convenience. Even had she not been unwell, he would not have joined her in bed. No matter what. Of that he was certain. Practically certain.
He turned the moment she walked in.
The dreadful pallor of her skin of the previous day had been replaced by a healthy glow. She was dressed in the habit she had worn in Hyde Park. Ready to ride out. Gladness washed through him. Because she looked well, nothing else. Oddly the feeling was far stronger than circumstances warranted, likely brought on by how attractive she looked. And that was not a good thing.
‘Good morning, Your Grace,’ he said, taking his plate to his usual place at the head of the table. ‘It looks like a good day for hacking out.’
She smiled at him and his stomach lurched. He must be hungry. For food. He’d been up at first light. And not only because he hadn’t slept well. In Lewis’s absence, he’d been forced to attend to all of his correspondence rather than only the important items. After that he’d met with Jaimie and given him his orders for the day, or at least agreed on a plan of action. Giving Jaimie orders was like trying to instruct the tide when to turn.
He forked up a mouthful of eggs.
‘I am looking forward to seeing more of Sackfield,’ she said, browsing the platters of food.
‘I can recommend the eggs and the bacon if your digestion is up to it. Both come from the home farm.’
‘Thank you.’
Covertly, he watched her take a small amount of each and then add several strawberries and a slice of toast. It didn’t look like enough to keep a bird alive. No wonder she was so slender. He pondered encouraging her to take more, but did not want that wary look back in her eyes.
A look he’d put there with his deliberate coldness.
She sent him a curious glance. A pretty pink washed across her face. A blush. Hell, he was staring at her like a besotted schoolboy.
Or a newlywed husband.
He forced his attention to his newspaper, an article on horticulture, a comparison of the benefits of pig manure versus cow manure. Something that would cool any man’s ardour.
Or should. It did not blunt his awareness of Julia at his right hand, close enough for him to touch. His fingers twitched as if they might reach out and stroke her hand of their own volition. Abandoning the pretence of reading, he folded the newspaper and gestured to the teapot. ‘May I pour you a cup of tea?’
‘Thank you.’
He did so and watched as she added a generous dollop of cream and a mere sprinkle of sugar. She sipped it and sighed.
He raised a brow. ‘Is something the matter?’
‘Oh. No.’ She gave him a hesitant glance. ‘Why do you ask?’
‘You sighed.’
She blinked. ‘Did I? Oh, I suppose it was a sigh of gratitude. Robins insists I take chocolate in the morning and I really do not like it.’
‘Then tell her no.’
She pursed her lips, but her eyes sparkled with amusement. ‘I did mention it. She is determined I shall be all that is fashionable. Apparently, only dowds and dowagers take tea upon awakening. I fear I am a sad disappointment.’
