Page 50 of The Mister I Married

“So, tell me,” Alex began, absent-mindedly stroking Gracie’s fur, “what do you think of my new bride?”

He flicked a glance at his father’s face, genuinely curious to hear his answer. He hadn’t had a chance to discuss Emmy with him yet, and while it was too late to seek his approval, he still wanted his opinion.

“She is an amusing dinner companion, to be sure,” Mr. Whitcomb said, and Alex smiled as he thought back to last night, and the laughter that filled the dining room as Emmy regaled them with tales of the ton’s worst-behaved residents.

“Your sister adores her.”

Alex nodded. “She does.”

“And so do you, I think.”

His hand stilled on Gracie’s scruff, and he looked up, meeting his father’s thoughtful gaze.

Did he?

For a long moment, he sat there in silence, simply probing and analyzing each and every feeling he experienced whenever Emmy was near.

Finally, he nodded. “Yes. I do.”

He enjoyed being with Emmy, of course, and he’d known for a while that he cared about her, but now…

He swallowed. Now his feelings went well beyond caring. He was smitten with her. Beguiled by her.

Infatuated.

Thunderstruck.

Bescuttered.

His aunt’s ridiculous, made-up word emerged from the depths of his brain, though it did not seem as ridiculous now as it had before.

How soon before he was in love with his wife? Strange how the thought brought him no fear.

“And what of her feelings, Alex?” his father asked, his voice low. “Does she return your regard?”

Alex crossed one leg over the other as Gracie nudged his hand with her nose, asking for more pets.

“She regards me highly,” he replied, avoiding his father’s gaze as he patted Gracie’s snout.

“Hm.”

He sighed, fairly certain he knew what that noise meant. “It is not a love match, Father. I explained our arrangement in the letter I sent to you from London.”

The words emerged sharper than they should have, and Alex winced, embarrassed by the show of temper.

“I know you did. And if I thought her feelings were the same as yours, I would not be concerned. But I know the agony of loving someone who cannot love you. The pain of it, the wreckage it leaves behind—” His voice faltered, a grimace overtaking his face.

Alex rose and went to him, kneeling on the floor so he could take his trembling hands in his.

“Please don’t distress yourself, Father. I went into this marriage with both eyes open, and Emmy is not my mother. She is a kind and caring woman. I trust her.”

Mr. Whitcomb nodded and smiled, but the shadow of worry remained in his faded brown eyes.

The temperature in the room seemed to increase tenfold and Alex felt a sudden need to escape it, and the oppressive worry his father’s own past had created.

“If you’ll excuse me, I think I’ll have that walk now,” he said, rising to his feet.

“Of course, my boy.”