Page 98 of The Dangerous Lord

A keen disappointment seized her. She’d dressed with such care, looking forward to telling Ian that her courses had ended. “Oh.”

The elderly butler hesitated. When she glanced at him, he said, “If you should need the master, however, he’s in his rooms.”

She brightened. “He told you to say that?”

“No, milady. I merely thought you might find the information of interest.”

Her spirits fell once more. “I do. Thank you.”

He motioned to the footman to serve her the first course—a consommé. She stared into the bowl, but her mind was elsewhere. Ian’s absence at dinner for the past three nights had garnered even the servants’ attention. No doubt they’d also noticed his avoidance of her. The promised visit to the tenants hadn’t materialized. He’d sent word that he would be too busy with other affairs to carry her round and introduce her.

She detested that phrase—“send word.” Ian forever “sent word” to her. That he couldn’t accompany her into the village. That he would be out all day inspecting his properties. That he wouldn’t be at dinner. She only wished the wretch would “send word” about why her behavior the other night had made him avoid her.

“Milady?” Spencer asked.

She looked up to find him at her elbow. “Yes?”

“Is there ... something wrong with the soup?”

She’d been staring into it for several minutes. “No.” She shoved back her chair. “I’m not hungry, I’m afraid. I believe I’ll do without dinner tonight.”

“Yes, milady,” he murmured, bowing.

She stood abruptly, took a fortifying gulp of wine, and then set the glass down and headed for the door. She’d had enough of this nonsense. She’d seen less of Ian in the past three days of married life at Chesterley than she had in one day of unmarried life in London. It wasn’t like Ian to sulk simply because her courses had prevented him from bedding her. But why else could he be avoiding her?

Well, she would find out. They were married, for pity’s sake, and if he thought being married meant ignoring his wife when he couldn’t bed her, he was very much mistaken. It was time she informed him of that fact.

When she arrived at Ian’s bedchamber, she was relieved to find the door open and Ian clearly visible inside. He must have just come from his bath, for his hair was still damp and he wore a dressing gown of figured silk tied at the waist with a sash. He stood at the foot of the bed, directing his valet who was ...

Packing an open trunk.

“Where are you going?” she asked sharply from the doorway.

His valet looked up in surprise, but a quick nod from Ian toward the door was all it took for the servant to slip past Felicity and off down the hall.

“To London,” he answered.

Her heart skipped a beat. She entered the room with unsteady steps, closing the door behind her. “I thought we weren’t returning to London until day after tomorrow.”

He continued where his valet had left off by tossing a pair of drawers into the trunk. “There’s been a change of plan. You’ll want to attend Lord Stratton’s New Year’s Eve ball, won’t you, so you can write about it in your column? That means leaving tomorrow. I’d planned to tell you this evening.”

“Oh.” She wished he’d asked her about it first. The ball wasn’t nearly as important to her as consummating their marriage, and now there would only be tonight before her brothers were with them again.

Still, she only needed one night. Feeling a bit nervous, she strolled to the bed and sat down on the edge. “I ... I came to tell you that my courses are finished.”

He obviously didn’t miss the significance of that. His hands paused in the act of reaching for something in his bureau. “I see.”

She waited for him to say more ... to look at her or kiss her ... anything at all. When he returned to packing, she couldn’t believe it. What had happened to him? Three days ago, he wouldn’t have left her alone on his bed for more than a second after such a pronouncement. “Ian, that means there’s no reason for us not to⁠—”

“I know what it means.” His profile was to her, the taut muscles more unyielding than marble. “It means we should have left for London today.”

She stared at him in utter bewilderment. “Whyever for?”

“Felicity.” His voice cracked a little on her name. He straightened as if steeling himself for an unpleasant task. When he faced her, his expression was grim. “We’re going to London early for another reason as well.”

This didn’t sound good, not good at all. “Oh?”

“I sent a message off today to a solicitor, requesting an appointment for tomorrow. I think he’ll oblige me.” He paused. “This particular solicitor specializes in marital separations.”