“Now, about these late-night excursions of yours, tell me what you found. What have you discovered in your investigation?”
She hesitated, weighing how much to reveal. Despite the intimacy they’d shared, trust and vulnerability were new between them.
“Mr. Fardell admitted there had been bribes to government inspectors, doctors paid to falsify reports, compensation to silence families of injured workers.” She swallowed, her hand unconsciously moving to her leg beneath the sheet. “I’ve been piecing together who might lead me to the owners of the factory.”
He rubbed his jaw pensively. “Crown Street most likely operates under multiple corporate entities, making it difficult to trace who actually owns it.”
“Precisely. The financial records would be helpful, but I’ve no clue how I’d get access.”
Charles was quiet for a long moment, his expression thoughtful. “If these men discover you are tracking them, they won’t hesitate to protect themselves.”
“Which is precisely why I need to expose them before they discover my objective,” she insisted.
“I understand, but we must approach it differently. More strategically.”
“We?”
“Yes, we.” His lips curved into a slight smile. “I have connections, influence, things that could prove useful.”
Amelia weighed his offer. Having his resources would undoubtedly make her investigation easier, potentially safer. But it would mean letting him in, trusting him with something deeply personal. Now that they’d consummated their marriage, she ought to think of him as a partner for life. They were one unit now regardless of her fears.
“I’m afraid,” she blurted.
“Of what?” He reached out, stroking her hair. The casual intimacy of the gesture sent warmth through her.
“Of getting hurt. If I can’t give you an heir when—”
“Shh…” Charles pressed her against his chest, stroking her back. “Now I am yours regardless of the heir.”
Amelia looked into his eyes then.
“After all,” he continued, “I have not bestowed spousal privilege onto other women.”
Amelia arched her brows. “You cannot mean bedding.”
His laugh was playful. “No, obviously not. I mean the fencing lessons. I don’t give them away willy-nilly, you understand.”
She rolled her eyes. “The Duchess of Rutland may disagree.”
“Those were not real lessons.”
“Yes, I’ve noticed,” she said flatly.
“I believe you are jealous, Wife,” he teased with a glint in his eyes.
“Of course, now that we’ve…” She trailed off, feeling shy about acknowledging she was his real wife in a real marriage.
“We’ve what?” he teased.
“You know what.”
“Tell me.”
She looked up at him with narrowed eyes. “Rutted.”
Hereford’s laugh was half shock and half delight.
“That’ll teach you not to challenge me,” she said.
