Hereford poured two glasses of brandy without asking if she wanted one. “I assume you’d like to discuss arrangements,” he said, handing her a glass. His cravat was slightly loosened, the only sign that the day had affected him at all.
“Yes.” Amelia accepted the brandy but didn’t drink. “I believe we should establish clear boundaries.”
“Very well.” He leaned against his desk, studying her with those impossibly blue eyes. “Though I must admit, your brother and Lady Carlisle’s demands were quite thorough. What more could you possibly require?”
“To begin with, I expect complete discretion regarding my… physical limitation.” She lifted her chin. “I won’t have you discussing it with anyone of your… acquaintances.”
His expression hardened. “You think rather poorly of me, don’t you?”
“I think exactly what you’ve shown me to think, my lord. So let us be clear. I have no intention of sharing your bed, neither for heirs nor pleasure. You may not seek your entertainment elsewhere either. I won’t have my reputation tarnished by association with your scandals.”
Hereford set down his glass with care. “And what of your own impropriety? Do you plan to continue running about London unchaperoned, visiting gentlemen’s clubs?”
“I plan to continue running my newspaper, yes.” Her voice turnedsharp. “That was explicitly covered in the marriage contract.”
“The contract doesn’t specify your behavior.” He straightened, using his height to loom over her. “As your husband, I have certain rights—”
“You have no rights over me beyond what was negotiated. I expect you to honor our marriage contract. This is a business arrangement, nothing more.”
Something flickered in his eyes, but his voice remained controlled. “And you believe you can simply dictate the terms of our marriage bed without consideration for my wishes?”
“You’ve agreed to the terms. Let us not lock the stable door after the horse has bolted.”
Hereford ran a hand through his hair, disturbing its careful styling. “This is precisely why I insisted on the one-year clause. We’re clearly incompatible.”
“On that, at least, we agree.” Amelia finally took a sip of brandy, welcoming its burn.
He was quiet for a long moment, swirling the amber liquid in his glass. “I know you would have preferred Norwich.”
She cleared her throat and set down her glass. “You needn’t worry about my association with the viscount. I shall maintain my professionalism and interact with him only as business dictates.”
His eyes peered into hers. “Tell me. Did you develop affections for Norwich?”
Amelia stared back, searching her heart for the answer. “I found him pleasant, and I respect his stance on equality. I hadn’t known him long enough to develop any feelings.”
Hereford turned away and poured himself another glass of brandy. When he spoke, his voice had dropped lower, taking on an edge she couldn’t quite interpret. “And you believe that we can simply ignore each other’s existence while living under the same roof?”
“I don’t see why not. The house is certainly large enough.”
He stepped closer, near enough that she could smell his cologne—that familiar scent of leather and spice that had haunted her dreams more often than she cared to admit. “And what if I don’t wish to ignore you?”
Amelia’s heart thundered against her ribs, but she held her ground. “Then that is your misfortune, my lord. I’ve made my position clear.”
“Have you?” His eyes searched her face. “Because I’m beginning to wonder if you protest too much, Miss Thornton. I beg your pardon. I should say, Lady Hereford.”
The new title sent an unexpected shiver down her spine. “Don’t.”
“Don’t what?” He was closer still, though she couldn’t remember him moving. “Don’t remind you that you’re my wife now? That despite all your conditions and protests, we’re bound together?”
“Only for a year,” she whispered, hating how breathless she sounded.
“A year can be a long time.” His hand rose as if to touch her face, then dropped. “But have it your way, my lady. We’ll maintain our separate lives, ignore the tension between us, and pretend this is nothing more than a marriage of necessity. Though I wonder…”
“What?”
“I wonder which of us you’re trying harder to convince.” He stepped back abruptly, retrieving his glass. “I’ll have Cooper show you to your rooms. I trust you’ll find them satisfactory.”
Amelia gathered her skirts, desperate to escape before he could see how his proximity had affected her. “Perfect. Good afternoon, my lord.”
