Page 79 of Undercover Duke
Sheridan would have paid for fifty trays if it meant he didn’t have to spend one more minute in the woman’s presence. Of course, now he had to face his new wife and explain why he’d deceived her . . . if he could even do so to her satisfaction. He wasn’t sure he could.
But he had to try. Just watching her remove her red pelisse to expose a gown of diaphanous muslin thin enough to glide over the curves of her body made him want to tear it off of her so he could feast on all her silky places. He meant to have her again tonight, assuming she wanted the same thing. Somehow he had to convince her they could make a very good pair, despite their rocky beginnings.
Fortunately, his credit was still good at this inn in Cambridge—their lodgings were well-appointed, with fireplaces in both rooms of the suite for him and Vanessa. One was a bedchamber with a large tester bed and plenty of space for the two small trunks they’d brought containing the items they’d need for traveling. The other was a sort of sitting room, which not only had a settee with a side table but also contained a dining table with four sturdy, old-fashioned chairs.
Shortly after their arrival, their dinner was brought up—a hearty ragout of mutton, mushrooms, potatoes, and carrots paired with a bottle of Madeira. But once they sat down to eat, he noticed that Vanessa only picked at the food and didn’t drink the wine at all.
“Aren’t you hungry?” he asked. “You hardly ate anything at lunch.”
“I need to ask you something.” She lifted her gaze to his. “And I want you to tell me the truth no matter how much you think it might pain me.”
Damn. That did not sound good. “All right.”
“If not for needing to question Mama for your family’s investigation, would you ever have offered to make Mr. Juncker jealous by courting me?”
Leave it to Vanessa to go right to the heart of their situation.
Despite what she’d said, he debated lying. But it was time to stop avoiding the truth with her. “No, I wouldn’t have.”
Her expression was hard to read. Was she hurt? Upset? Relieved? He couldn’t tell. Then he noticed how she was rubbing the handle of her fork, back and forth, over and over, as if she were trying to keep from showing him how she felt.
That did something to his insides. “But that doesn’t mean I’m unhappy at how things turned out, at having you become my bride. I’m not unhappy in the least. And surely you can tell I’m attracted to you.”
She looked right through him. “Just not enough that you would have courted me on your own.”
He stiffened. “Probably not.”
“You could have gone another way entirely with your plan, you know, and revealed to me what you were after from Mama. I would have helped you get the truth out of her, and the whole courtship thing would have been something we did for the sake of keeping Mama’s suspicions at bay.”
He scoffed at that. “You’re saying you would have helped me determine whether your mother was guilty of murder?”
“I swear I would have done whatever you needed, if only to prove that Mama wasn’t capable of it.”
“And how could I have been sure you wouldn’t tell her our suspicions?”
Vanessa winced. “I suppose you couldn’t have. But I daresay Grey should have known. Grey should have asked for my help directly. I would have helped him ifhe’dasked for sure.” Now Sheridan could hear the hint of betrayal in her voice. That seemed to be at the root of her distress. “But no one asked me. Instead—”
“I know. Grey just handed the whole thing over to me.” Grey, her big brother. The one she loved dearly. No wonder she felt betrayed. “And I stepped in and took care of it myself.”
“While letting me think you wanted to protect me from Mr. Juncker.”
That roused his temper. “Ididwant to protect you from Juncker. It was clear you were besotted, and he was only interested in dallying with you.”
“It was clear, was it?” she said coldly.
He chose to ignore that odd reaction. “I realize I let the subterfuge go on far too long. My mother says I should have told you in the week before we married, that I should have given you a chance . . .”
“To refuse to marry you?” She took a small sip of her wine. “Perhaps I would have taken that chance, but mostly because I would never wish to wed any man who felt forced into it, either for the money or any other reason.”
He wasn’t sure why, but that angered him. “Let’s get one thing straight. I didn’t marry you for the money. I married you because I had . . . acted on my physical urges and thus put you in a difficult position.” He rose to pace the room. “I know what a gentleman should do when he destroys a woman’s reputation, however unintentionally, and I am a gentleman at heart.” He paused to stare down at her. “Perhaps I should amend that. I’m a gentleman except when I’m around you. Then I lose all reason.”
God, he shouldn’t have admitted that, especially to her. Already her expression had softened. Why, he didn’t know. She was in love with Juncker, wasn’t she?
He was about to ask her when she said, “You don’t need my dowry?”
Vanessa was blunt—he’d give her that. “I didn’t say that. It will help matters, to be sure. Unfortunately, I need a great deal more money than most women’s dowries could probably offer.”
“And certainly not mine.”
