Page 87 of The Danger of Desire
“Ofcourse. But I didn’t think you would. And I didn’t want to wake you too early after you’d gone to bed so late.”
Another pause for an explanation. He ignored it.
She tipped up her chin. “So I’ve now met your cook and your butler and a number of your adorable footmen.”
For some reason, that last one annoyed him. “I don’t have ‘adorable’ footmen.”
“Really? They seemed quite lovely to me.” She cocked her head. “Are you sure you know your staff?”
“I know my staff perfectly well,” he growled.
She sniffed. “My, my, no need to become agitated over it.”
“I amnot—” He caught himself. “Never mind me. I’m rather out of sorts at the moment.”
Instead of making some tart remark about how that happened when one got no sleep, she patted his arm in sympathy. “I’m so sorry to hear that. Because it’s truly a lovely morning. I’ve already been for a walk in your garden with Flossie.”
He eyed her warily. She wasn’t going to demand to know exactly where he’d been and what he’d been doing? And was she really so cheery simply because of the ‘lovely morning’ and her walk with Flossie?
Last night, she’d seemed very disappointed when he’d laid down the rules for spending their nights apart. Yet this morning she acted as if she barely cared that he’d abandoned her.
That didn’t sit well. Which was ridiculous. He should be happy that she was content to go her own way. “I’m just not usually up this early.”
“So I hear.” She eyed him closely. “And you’re obviously not a person who likes mornings.”
“I like mornings just fine,” he snapped. “As long as I can spend them sleeping.”
“Ah. Perhaps, then, you should have something more than coffee in your belly.” She wandered over to the buffet, which held his usual preferences for breakfast—cold meats, cheeses, and some bread—and began to pile food on a plate. “I looked for you at three a.m., the first time I rose. But you weren’t home.”
The forced casualness with which she droppedthatbombshell brought a fierce satisfaction to him. She’d noticed that he’d left. Shedidcare. “Yes, as I told you, I tend to wander.”
At last would come the typical jealous-wife response, the one that had kept him from marrying all this time.
Instead, she faced him with a smile. “Yes, I remember. And I greatly appreciated your being so considerate last night as to allow me the chance to rest. Alone.”
That flummoxed him. Was she being sarcastic? “I was at St. George’s,” he said, though he wasn’t sure why he felt the need to explain.
She waved a hand dismissively. “Oh, I assumed as much, since the footman said you might be.”
He eyed her warily. “You weren’t... worried?”
“Why should I worry? From what you said last night, I gather you’ve been going out and about late at night for years.”
“Well, yes, but...”
She lifted an eyebrow. “But?”
“No need to harangue me,” he said testily. “I did tell you I would look into the situation with your brother’s card cheat. So I spent most of the evening at St. George’s asking discreet questions about that tattooed lord of yours.”
“How kind. And I wasn’t haranguing you. I can’t imagine why you’d think I was.”
Because that was a wife’s duty, damn it. To harangue her husband about his whereabouts.
Then again, Delia was anything but a typical wife. Indeed, she returned to the table with a plate overladen with buttered toast, cheddar slices, and roast beef, then set it down in front of him. Even his servants wouldn’t be so presumptuous.
Yet somehow she’d managed to choose all the things he liked.
“Were you able to discover anything about the tattooed fellow?” she asked as she took a seat across from him.
