Page 64 of The Lyon Whisperer
She lowered her gaze to study her fingernails. “I find I quite admire you, sir. I wanted to do something to express my esteem—and perhaps set your mind at ease concerning my hostess skills.”
He’d been so caught up studying her, it took a moment for her words to penetrate. “Your—I beg your pardon?”
“The night we spoke prior to you and father signing the nuptial contract—”
“When you snuck out of your father’s home in Marlborough to pay me a midnight call, you mean?” he inquired in an arch tone.
She lifted her chin. “Yes, that evening. You seemed rather concerned about my actions embarrassing you, in point of fact.”
He sent her a warning scowl, displeased by her attempt to twist his words. “I am not worried you might embarrass me. Iamconcerned with you observing the proprieties as befits your station as my wife.”
Her violet eyes flashed with irritation. “I do hope I have managed the business well enough, to date?”
He tried to hold onto his affront to no avail, barely managing to bite back a smile. “So far, so good.”
A quiver of amusement played at her lush mouth.
He studied her rosy lips. God, but he wanted to kiss her just now. All day, he’d nursed a feeling of having been sent off like an urchin at the kitchen doors, only to come home and hear that shequite admiredhim.
He wished to God he hadn’t said a damned word about this morning. Whyhadhe?
The truth came to him in a flash of insight. Because, contrary to the notion bedding his wife would lessen his fixation upon her, having her once had only whetted his appetite for more.
He didn’t want to want her. Didn’t want to wind up wrapped around her little pinkie and ordered about like so much chattel.That, he would not allow.
He leaned back, crossing his arms over his chest. “We seem to have strayed from the point.”
She flashed him an imp’s grin. “Where was I?”
“You were about to tell me what it is you had planned to do to express your esteem.”
She nodded, her expression once more serene, though she swallowed audibly.
Reading his wife was exceedingly difficult, but he was making progress.
“I decided to plan a dinner party.”
“I…see?” He finished on a questioning note, thoroughly bemused.
“I started by compiling a list of noblemen who I believe could aid your cause.” A self-conscious laugh escaped her. “I had to hide the thing when you visited my chambers this morning before leaving.”
“Ah,” he murmured.So that was what she hadn’t wanted him to see. A strange feeling of warmth suffused his chest—along with a sense of how foolish and baseless his suspicions had been.
He glanced at the open door of the parlor and rose.
“Where are you going, sir?”
“Nowhere. I’m assuring our privacy.” He closed the parlor doors and made his way back to her. He sat much closer to her than before.
If she noticed, she did not let on.
He angled his body towards hers and propped his weight on one forearm, resting on the back cushion. She smelled like freshly cut flowers. “Go on.”
Her pink-tipped tongue darted out to dampen the corner of her mouth. “I wanted to plan everything and then surprise you—after working out all the details.” She met his eyes with a frank stare. “I visited Cook and Mr. Oliver, each separately. I wanted them to procure certain foods, delicacies, wine, and spirits.”
He said nothing. His first inkling of where she was heading with this conversation dawned.
“My lord, may I ask…that is…are we penniless?”
