Page 49 of The Mister I Married

“I would like to give you a tour of the house later today,” he said, running his hands through his messy head of hair. “If you can fit me in between your new responsibilities, of course.”

“Oh.” Emmy crossed her arms over her chest. “Well, you see, Tess asked me last night if she could give me a tour of the house today, and I told her she could.”

“Ah.” His smile didn’t dim, but his eyes definitely did.

“You may come with us if you like,” Emmy offered.

He shook his head. “No. That isn’t—”

His words were cut off by a soft scratch at the door and a moment later Flossie entered the room and bobbed a curtsy.

“Well,” Alex said, “I shall leave you to it then. Enjoy your tour with Tess and I will…see you later.”

Emmy gave him a smile and an awkward little wave, guilt niggling at her nape as she watched him go. A part of her wanted to call him back and tell him she had changed her mind, but she ignored the urge and instead turned to Flossie, determined to focus on the day ahead and not her handsome husband.

Boundaries.

Boundaries must be set in a marriage, and they must be set early and staunchly maintained, no matter how difficult or unpleasant it might be.

Alex stood in the corridor outside Emmy’s bedchamber for several seconds, frowning at the closed door.

What the devil had just happened?

One minute he was snuggling his new bride in bed, and the next she was shuffling him off as if she couldn’t wait to be rid of him.

Tightening the sash at his waist, he turned and padded the few steps to his own chamber door and let himself inside.

He was by no means an expert on women, but he was certain Emmy had enjoyed their lovemaking last night. He sure as hell had. And he’d been rather keen to do it again this morning.

It was a humbling experience, discovering his wife did not feel the same and, in fact, would rather spend the day reviewing the accounts with his housekeeper than in bed with him.

He lowered himself on the armchair by the fire and leaned back into the soft leather with a deep sigh.

He’d only known Emmy for a short time, but he’d realized early on that she was the sort who liked to be doing things and felt compelled to tackle problems and responsibilities without prevarication.

Still, he’d hoped they would spend some time together today.

He’d hoped she would want to spend time with him. They were newly wed, after all, and still coming to know one another. Why hadn’t it occurred to her that he would want to be the one to give her a tour of Bristlewood?

Why hadn’t she wanted him to?

He blew out another sigh, frustrated with himself. He had no right to be hurt. This marriage was not a love match; it was an arrangement, and Emmy was upholding her end of the bargain. He must remember to do the same.

Determined not to dwell on his wife’s perplexing behavior—or his own—he rang for his valet and swiftly dressed for the day. After a quick breakfast of coffee and toast, he headed for the library in search of Gracie and Prescott. The two hounds always cheered him up, and he could use the fresh air and exercise that a long walk would afford.

His father was sitting in his usual chair by the hearth, wearing his favorite oversized wool jacket and reading from the book laying open on his lap, while Gracie and Prescott reclined at his feet. The two deerhounds rose in tandem the moment Alex entered the room, their tails wagging as they ambled up to greet him.

“Good morning, you rascals,” he murmured, bending down to scratch Gracie’s ears, which earned him a lick on his cheek. Prescott, the sillier and simpler of the two, demanded his turn next, his tongue lolling to one side in abject ecstasy as Alex gave his head a good rub.

Gracie eyed her brother askance, apparently disgusted by the undignified display.

Chuckling, Alex rose and crossed the room, giving the listless fire a quick stoking before he sat in the matching chair beside his father.

“They’re happy you’re home,” Mr. Whitcomb said as he removed his spectacles and set them down on his book.

“So am I,” Alex replied. “I missed our daily walks.”

He watched with affection as Prescott flopped onto the rug before the fire and huffed out a fur-ruffling sigh. Gracie sat down at Alex’s knee and leaned her shaggy body against his leg, asking for pets.