He no longer had a choice. He must face the insurmountable mass standing between himself and what he had only too briefly experienced—a marriage of tenderness, laughter, and carnal pleasure…
So muchcarnal pleasure.
Even now, he had to look away as she held up a cameo and dangled it before her chest. He did not wish to focus too closely on herlovely nape, lest desire spike again.
At the rate they’d been indulging his desire, he wouldn’t be surprised if she was with child.
She was going to be furious when he told her all. How much worse would it be if she then found out she must be confined? When she’d proposed, her primary condition had been that he and Adrian present a united front, providing a shield her youngest sisters in their Seasons, a shield she had not experienced.
However, he could hardly escort the girls on his own, leaving him unable to adequately fulfill his promise—the reason she’d agreed to wed him in the first place.
On the other hand, if he did get her with child, then, no matter what unpleasant revelations came to light—the letters, Vivianne’s former role in this house—she would have no choice but to remain with him.
No matter how hurt, she wouldn’t be able to leave him.
“You’re looking particularly fierce.” In the mirror, she met his gaze.
Fierce, bleak…Machiavellian. A little of all the above. “We should leave soon.”
“I’m almost ready.” She went back to sorting her necklaces. “By the way, did you ever find the book you thought was missing?”
“No.” Another troubling fact.
He’d checked again late last night. He’d gone back to the secret room, taken apart the entire French section, then the Italian, then the English. Still, he’d found no trace ofThe Romance of Melusine.
“Who else,” she asked lightly, “knows about the vault?”
“Adrian,” he replied. But there was someone else, wasn’t there? “And Anderson,” he added thoughtfully.
His father, though mortified by the collection, had wanted the books appraised, even though keeping the collection had been out of character for him.
Could Anderson have taken the book?Why?
“Anderson…” She repeated without looking up. “I’ve been thinking about Anderson…”
“Have you?” he asked lightly.
“We didn’t employ a steward at Willowhurst.”
“How, then, were rents collected?” he attempted to steer the conversation away from his own steward.
“The largest landowners paid at the house. If my father wasn’t present, his solicitor updated the records. A common arrangement, I believe.”
“Lord Blackwood employs a solicitor, though I seem to recall him saying the solicitor he uses works for several landowners.”
“From what I understand, Lord Blackwell employs the same solicitor still keeping an eye on things at Willowhurst. The new owner, Mr. Vane, made the introduction. Willowhurst isn’t nearly as complex as the Harbury estate, doesn’t have a large rent roll, and most of the income comes from sheep.”
“You discussed solicitors with Blackwood and Vane?”
“Lord Blackwood and Mr. Vane were discussing the matter at the wedding breakfast. I was only part of the conversation because I had been inquiring after my old neighbors.” She held up a necklace with a small gold cross up to her neck. “Although I might have taken a deeper interest in estate matters, if Mr. Wainwright had allowed.”
Mr. Wainwright. Not papa. Or evenfather.
Odd, when she referred to her Godmother, Lady Asquith, asGod Mama.
“The night we agreed to be allies, you said you wanted to look through your father’s notes on Anderson’s records… Have you found anything pertinent?”
Her question caught him off guard, as his mind had briefly wandered. He should have asked her about her father, instead of allowing her to ask more about him.
