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She patted the empty place beside her.
Griffin narrowed his eyes and picked up a wing chair, placing it in front of her before lowering himself to the chair. He’d obviously come from bed. He wore a dark blue banyan, edged in black and gold, and slippers on his feet, but in contrast to her husband, there was no soft hat on his bare head. Griffin, like most men who wore a wig, kept his hair cropped close to the skull.
“So,” he drawled, “what is so urgent you must drag me from my bed? My very warm bed?”
She blushed, for although most couples at their level of society kept separate rooms, she had the sudden strong impression that Griffin and Hero did not.
Megs inhaled. “I want to know why Godric married me.”
Griffin’s face went entirely blank, but before he could say a word, Hero appeared at the door, a pale green wrapper held close at her throat, her beautiful red hair a curling mass over one shoulder.
“Megs? What has happened?”
Griffin rose at once, crossing to Hero. He bent over her, murmuring something quietly and with one hand touching her cheek in a tender gesture that declared louder than any embrace what he felt for his wife.
Megs bit her lip, feeling again that miserly twinge of envy. It wasn’t that she didn’t wish Griffin all the marital happiness in the world. It was just … well. She’d never have that with Godric, would she?
She winced in something very like pain at the thought. She had friends, family that cared for her, wealth and privilege. Maybe, if she could change Godric’s mind, she might even have a baby.
Couldn’t she be happy just with those things?
Hero nodded at whatever Griffin said to her and then smiled at Megs and gave a little wave.
Megs mouthed, “Sorry.”
Hero nodded and retired from the room, closing the door behind her.
“Now, then,” Griffin said, lowering himself once more to the wing chair. “What has Godric done to make you ask?”
And Megs realized that Griffin had used the brief interruption to marshal his thoughts.
Well, she certainly wasn’t going to tell her brother that her husband refused to consummate their marriage. Besides, she saw now, Griffin was probably throwing the question back at her in an effort to get her off the topic.
“Godric hasn’t done anything,” she said coolly, and when he frowned suspiciously, she sighed. “He’s been a perfect gentleman. That’s not why I’m here. I want to know what you did to him to make him marry me.”
His eyebrows flew up. “Make him?”
“He said he had no choice but to marry me, Griffin.” She gripped her hands in her lap, remembering again the stab of foolish pain at her husband’s words. “Why?”
Griffin took a breath, his head tipped back and his eyes closed. For a moment, Megs was afraid he wouldn’t speak at all.
Then his eyes opened and they were filled with brotherly love for her. “You were so broken, Meggie. So grief-stricken, it was like you’d lost part of your mind.” A muscle tightened in his jaw. “And then there was the fact that you were with child.”
o;Have I ever given you cause to doubt my fidelity?” she asked as soon as they came together once more.
“No, but—”
“And yet you accuse me of the worst thing a man can accuse a woman of.”
“Margaret,” he said helplessly, all his eloquence evaporated.
She inhaled and spoke quietly as he paced around her. “Why do you even care? You’ve made plain your disinterest. Why play the dog in the manger? Why did you marry me in the first place?”
His eyes slid away from her face, noting all those trying to hear their conversation without seeming to do so. “Your brother asked me—”
“Griffin hardly knew you.”
He glanced back at her and saw the determined expression on her face. “This is not the place—”
