Page 38 of The Viscount and the Vixen
She’d been careful, never using her name during her travels, never using a main system of transportation. Hence the journey on the mail coach where no questions had been asked, other than her destination. She felt relatively safe, and there was always a chance that Montie would welcome her absence when he discovered it.
Still, a consummated marriage was essential to her strategy. She refused to feel guilty because her plan had gone awry and she was now the wife of the viscount rather than the marquess. She wasn’t going to reconsider her plan simply because Locksley had shown a momentary kindness and given her a set of keys. Or because he truly seemed to care for his father. Or because he seemed capable of destroying her with little more than a touch.
And while she might tell herself that she wanted this marriage consummated for her own personal gain, she couldn’t deny that the glimpse he’d given her of the passion that awaited her in his bed now had her own body thrumming with needs that made her wish he had indeed taken her on the blasted desk. Be done with it. Stop torturing her by being so strong-willed.
Gilbert interrupted her thoughts as he set a bowl of turtle soup before her. Then he placed one before the viscount.
Locksley’s brow furrowed. “You can bring out all the food, Gilbert. We’ve no guests tonight.”
So he took his dinner the same way as he did his breakfast—with ease for the servants and no fanfare. She couldn’t imagine Montie being so considerate, knew beyond a doubt he wouldn’t be. Servants served and he lived to be served. He’d never been abusive but he was extremely skilled at ensuring those around him understood their place. Her heart had shattered when she’d finally come to understand hers.
“Mrs.Dorset says we can’t be serving everything on one plate anymore, not now that there’s a lady in the house,” Gilbert explained, looking somewhat guilty.
“So you’re going to traipse back and forth all during dinner?”
“Apparently so, m’lord.”
Locksley sighed. “Then for God’s sake, at least put the wine on the table so I can serve myself.”
“Mrs.Dorset—”
“Will never know.”
“Very good, sir.” After seeing to the wine, he retreated to stand by the wall.
Her husband appeared disgruntled, a man who didn’t relish being waited on. She refused to let that discovery make her like him. He’d ruined her carefully laid-out plans—even if his reasons were to be commended. She tasted the soup. Delicious. Little wonder no one argued with Mrs.Dorset regarding how the meal was to be served.
“You were going to tell me how you knew about the keys,” she said quietly.
Amusement dancing in his eyes, he leaned back and lifted his wineglass. “So I was. My father’s wards and I fancied ourselves intrepid adventurers. We’d nick the keys from Mrs.Barnaby after she fell asleep and explore the various rooms during the late hours of the night.”
“With the size of this place, that could have taken years.”
He nodded, sipped his wine. “Nearly three, as I recall. We were like archeologists sorting through the rubble of an archaic civilization, cataloguing our finds, but ensuring that nothing appeared disturbed.”
While he said it with ease, she didn’t miss the sadness—and guilt—that briefly touched the green of his eyes. The archaic civilization had been his parents’ life. She wondered what it had been like to grow up with so little known of the past. “And when you grew up, you continued to explore, but moved on to the world.”
“For a while.”
“Do you miss it?”
Gilbert took their bowls, disappeared through a doorway. Locksley tapped his wineglass. “I do hope she didn’t prepare an abundance of food. I don’t like waste.”
“I’ll speak with her tomorrow, shall I? Approve the menu. Ensure it’s not too much.”
He nodded. “You’ll no doubt find her easier to deal with than you did Mrs.Barnaby.”
A woman who ruled a kitchen? She very much doubted it, but she’d been raised to manage a household. She could take on this task easily enough. “You didn’t answer my question. Do you miss traveling?”
“Sometimes.” He gave her a tantalizingly wicked grin. “But then exploring is going to be in my very near future, isn’t it, Lady Locksley?”
Heat flushed her skin. “Must you always turn the discussion in that direction?”
“You’re the one sitting there without your drawers.”
“It’s quite lovely actually. The silk of my gown against my nether regions.”
He laughed darkly. “God, you are a tease. Most women are bashful about bedding.”
