Heath leaned back, fingers brushing idly over the stem of his glass. “Do you?”
She met his gaze without hesitation. “I will play my part. Be the perfect wife society expects of me. In public, we shall appear precisely as we ought to.”
A pause.
“But beyond that, our interactions shall remain outside the bedroom.” She saw the flicker in his gaze—the amusement tempered with something darker.
“No entanglement,” she clarified, voice unwavering. “No emotions. No complications.”
Heath exhaled through his nose, swirling his drink once. “And if the matter of an heir arises?”
Blanche inhaled, keeping her composure. “Then we may revisit the subject.”
Silence stretched between them, heavy with unspoken thoughts.
“That will suffice for now,” he said.
Relief settled in her ribs, though she dared not exhale too visibly.
Heath tilted his head slightly, studying her with quiet amusement as he swirled his drink in slow circles.
“So, you have decided to play the perfect wife…” His voice was smooth, edged with indulgent curiosity. “And what, pray tell, do you wish in return for such an effort?”
Blanche exhaled lightly, settling her glass onto the polished surface of the table. “A simple matter,” she mused, lifting her gaze to meet his. “I would like to visit my family, for instance.”
Heath arched a brow. “Alone?”
“Would it be improper?”
Heath mimicked her seriousness, placing his glass down. “So long as you do not seek lovers or spread tales of me, you may do as you wish.”
Blanche hummed, feigning contemplation, then tilted her head slightly. “And how have your meetings gone today, Your Grace?”
Heath let out a quiet chuckle, fingers drumming idly against his glass. “You inquire after my affairs as though you are genuinely interested.”
Blanche shrugged. “Should I not show some semblance of concern? It is, after all, expected of a dutiful wife.”
Heath smirked, taking a slow sip of his brandy. “Then, by all means, Duchess, allow me to assure you—I have been victorious.”
Blanche inhaled, observing him. He was too calm, too composed, and that—more than anything—unnerved her.
She hesitated only briefly before tilting her chin in mock boredom.
“And… have you visited other women in these past days, by chance… Your Grace?”
The words were deliberately poised, casual in their delivery, but she felt the tension coil beneath her ribs regardless.
Heath did not hesitate. “No.” Then, slowly, he smirked.
He leaned in just slightly, fingers grazing the stem of his glass as his voice dipped into something more deliberate, something dangerously close to playful cruelty.
“Would you be disappointed if I had?”
Blanche scoffed, lifting her own drink to her lips with unbothered precision. “I would pity the poor woman, that is all.”
Heath chuckled, dark and rich, tracing his thumb along the rim of his glass as he watched her.
“You will not maintain this pretense for long, Duchess.” His voice was smooth, laced with quiet amusement. “Soon enough, you will plead for me.”
