Page 63 of The Wedding-Crashing Duchess

Her heart was still racing, while her palms remained damp and her skin seemed to remember the touch of his hand against her forehead.

Nothing was wrong with her.

That was the problem.

She had spent the evening watching Ronan smile, listening to him make Sarah laugh, and noticing every inch of skin revealed by one open fastening. Then his leg had touched hers, and she had reacted as though the contact meant something far more intimate than an accident on the carpet.

Augusta pressed both hands to her burning cheeks.

She was attracted to her husband.

The realization should not have shocked her, since Ronan was handsome and they were married, yet knowing it in the abstract was nothing like feeling it with every frantic beat of her heart.

Augusta closed her eyes. There would be no sleep for her for a very long time.

CHAPTER 13

“Ishall state my purpose clearly, since I have come to complain about the fact that your honeymoon has been over for an entire week and you have made no attempt to introduce me properly to your wife,” Gregory stated.

Ronan finally looked up.

“You know who Augusta is.”

“I know her name, her family, and the fact that she now lives in this house, although none of those things amount to knowing her,” Gregory said, removing his gloves and placing them over one knee. “You have spent years expecting me to appear whenever you require company, advice, distraction, or someone willing to fence with you after you have become unbearable, yet the moment you acquire a wife, you behave as though the two of you have entered a private kingdom and all former acquaintances must request permission to approach the gates.”

“I have not prevented you from visiting.”

“You have prevented the visit from becoming useful,” Gregory replied. “I came twice during the past week, and on both occasions you received me in this room, spoke about estate matters, and sent me away before dinner, while your wife remained somewhere else in the house. I find it difficult to believe that this happened by accident.”

“Augusta was occupied.”

“Both times?”

“Yes.”

“With what?”

Ronan’s expression flattened.

“That is not your concern.”

Gregory leaned back and studied him with growing amusement.

“You have become very protective of her schedule for a man who claims nothing unusual is happening,” he said. “I have not asked to question her about the marriage, inspect her private rooms, or demand that she entertain me for an entire afternoon. I only want to meet the woman, speak to her for the length of a meal, and determine whether she is as patient as she must be to share a house with you.”

“She does not need to be examined for your amusement.”

“I am not examining her,” Gregory replied, although his smile suggested that amusement remained very much part of the plan. “I am attempting to behave like your friend, which includes meeting the person who now occupies most of your attention, even if you continue pretending that nothing in your life has changed.”

Ronan returned his gaze to the document.

“My attention is occupied by work.”

“Your attention has not been on that page since I entered,” Gregory said, leaning forward enough to glance at the writing. “In fact, I suspect it was not on the page before I entered either, since you look less like a man reading accounts and more like a man waiting for something he refuses to name.”

“I am waiting for you to leave.”

“That is almost convincing, although the force would be greater if you had not sent for tea before I arrived.”