When he looked back at his wife, she had a smug smirk on her lips. His resolve hardened at once.
Well, if she can have her fun, then so can I.
Leaning close to her, he gave her his most dashing, rakish smile. “You know, with such a fine portrait above my bed, I rather think you will be tempted to come see it sometime.”
“Meaning what?” Violet asked quickly, reddening.
James smiled and shrugged. “Meaning that you will want to see your handiwork up close, I am sure. You have not been to my bedchamber yet, Your Grace.”
To his slight surprise, she did not at all look amused. She folded her arms across her chest and glared at him. “No, I haven’t, and that is precisely how you wanted it. And I now see that it was indeed for the best.”
“I didn’t mean to offend?—”
“Oh, didn’t you? Because from the looks of it, you very purposefully wanted to irritate me once you knew that you could not object to my dismantling of your egregious painting collection.”
“I thought you said I had good taste!”
“I was being kind. Your taste is mediocre at best.”
James had to work hard not to laugh. Violet looked so beautiful when she was angry, her face pink and her eyes sparkling, that the last thing he wanted to do was ruin it by laughing.
“Then I suppose I should be the one who is angry,” he said instead, enjoying watching her irritation mount. “After all, I was only jesting, and you said that to wound me.”
“Well, I do not care for jesting!” Violet snapped. “And I have to wonder why you are so determined to infuriate me. You must stop.”
James leaned even closer to her so that his lips almost touched her ear. “But I cannot,” he murmured. “Not when you look so pretty when you’re mad.”
He chuckled and then left her standing there in the hallway, looking as if she wanted to attack him. But her ire would have to wait. He had a bath to get to.
Chapter Six
“I’ve never seen you in a rage before,” Rosalie noted, looking at Violet thoughtfully over her book.
“You’ve never seen me married before,” Violet huffed as she stabbed the needle into the cushion she was supposed to be embroidering.
So far, the embroidery was looking much less like a neat flower and more like one that had been ripped apart. She was so irritated at her husband that she couldn’t focus on what she was doing and kept having to undo her stitches and start all over again.
“Now I have a husband to send me into rages.”
Rosalie laughed from the other side of the settee. “Well, I must say, I think it becomes you.”
“Don’t say that,” Violet snapped, making her sister look up in surprise at the sharpness of her tone. “Don’t say it becomes me.”
The words were far too similar to the ones her husband had used last night:“You look so pretty when you’re mad.”They echoed in her mind, and once more, she felt a strange surge of emotions that she didn’t understand.
How dare he speak so flirtatiously with her when he was the one who had determined that they would have a platonic relationship?! The insincerity of it was what irked her, she was certain.
He clearly did not find her pretty or attractive, or else he would have wanted a traditional marriage. And yet, he flirted with her. The only conclusion she could come to was that he did not take her seriously. She was a joke to him. He didn’t even consider her feelings, that it might be confusing and even hurtful to flirt with her when he so clearly found her hideous.
This, however, she could not tell her sister.
“All right, I won’t say it becomes you. But you must admit it’s rare for you to be in so foul a mood. Usually, you are so…” Rosalie trailed off and shrugged, then returned to her book.
Violet put down her embroidery and looked hard at her sister, her curiosity piqued. “Usually I’m sowhat?” she asked.
Rosalie sighed and put down her book. “Usually you’re so unreadable. You must have noticed this about yourself. You don’t wear your emotions on your sleeve. They’re hidden inside, somewhere, and most of the time, I have no idea what you’re feeling.”
Violet considered this. “Do you think most people feel that way about me?”
