Page 52 of Desperate Proposals
Yes, Mrs. Hartley’s influence on Leonora had provided massive relief. Evelyn turned her focus to Selina now, reaching out to place a hand on the cool glass.
If only the problem of her sister-in-law could be as easily solved.
Every night since their arrival, Selina had asked if Wright might join them at Mr. Hartley’s London house and fulfill the role of butler there. A part of Evelyn wanted to agree, having seen how poorly the entire place was run; Wright would surely set it to rights in no time. But she would never. Not after how chatty Selina had become with the servant. It was improper and it needed addressing, sooner rather than later.
Mr. Hartley was working in his study, and Evelyn did not wish to disturb him when he needed concentration, but this wasimportant. He’d taken her on—and Selina and Leonora as well—which meant he must assist her in this matter.
Brushing away her hesitancy, she walked to the study and knocked on the door.
“Come in,” he called, and it dawned on her that they had not spoken since the previous day.
The realization bothered her. She ought to be growing more comfortable with this man the longer they were wed, not less. Now was not the time to dwell on that, though. She opened the door and entered the study, her chin up and her face serene.
“Ah, just the woman I wished to see,” Mr. Hartley said, setting aside an untidy pile of papers and depositing his pen hastily in its stand before heaving himself from his chair.
Evelyn scanned the contents of the desk. It seemed all he ever did was sit here and write.
“You wished to see me?” she asked, feeling an absolute fool.
He lifted an eyebrow. “Shouldn’t a recently married man be ever desirous of his beloved?”
The word hit her like a bucket of cold water. She seated herself across from him, her back straight as an arrow.
“Beloved?”
“Would you prefer something else? Sweetness? Or maybe darling?” He placed a finger atop his lips, then smiled. A coy, flirtatious gesture. “Or even Evelyn, perhaps?”
“Mrs. Hartley will be fine, thank you.”
“Ah, but you see, Mrs. Hartley is my mother. And I’d rather not think of her while I’m bedding my wife.”
He spoke with such frankness that the breath was nearly knocked from her lungs. But Evelyn was more familiar with his methods now, and the way he liked to rattle her. But two could play at this.
“Bedding your wife?”
Zounds, it felt illegal to even utter the words. But she drew a breath and held steady.
He watched her. Slowly he lowered himself back into his chair.
“Say that again.” His voice was rough.
“What?” she said airily, even as her heart thudded. “Bedding your wife? I admit, I fail to see why you should be so concerned about the details pertaining to that particular activity.”
“Hmm.” He steepled his hands and waited for her to explain.
Evelyn felt herself pulled as taut as she’d been since… well. Since he’d bedded her, his wife. She smiled sweetly.
“Only my meaning is that it’s been several days and I—”
“And?” he interrupted, quite rudely.
She narrowed her eyes, regarding him severely now, her tone growing sharp. “And it seems to be an infrequent enough occurrence that I fail to see how it would bother you overmuch.”
He laughed and shook his head. “Evelyn—I beg your pardon—Mrs. Hartley, if you’ll recall, youdemurredthe idea of me remaining in your…” he cleared his throat before finishing, “chamber.”
That was true, wasn’t it? She cursed silently. In the moment it had felt the correct thing to do. She’d been… well, she’d been a frightful, bloody mess. She hadn’t expected that it would put him off her completely. Didn’t he understand how to play his role? Would she have to instruct him in this as well?
“For that evening. Not… every evening thereafter.”
