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He closed the adjoining door, and his gaze shifted to the glass vases of thorns on his bedside table. ‘And what about these? Is there something you’re trying to tell me?’

‘It matched my mood. I was feeling prickly.’

‘For what reason?’ He removed his jacket and set it on a chair, wearing only his shirt and waistcoat.

His utter confusion struck her with disbelief. ‘Do you honestly not know why I am angry?’

‘I see no reason why you would be, aside from the fact that I neglected to send you a letter.’ He chose a chair beside the window and gestured for her to join him in the opposite chair. ‘I had matters to attend to in London. And I visited Thornton to look in on Wintermere.’

Her cheeks burned with embarrassment, but she forced herself to confront the obvious problem. ‘I know you’ve been avoiding me. And it’s because of what happened between us on Christmas night.’

The duke didn’t deny it. But his grey eyes stared at her, as if she suddenly intrigued him. Charlotte only turned away. The last thing she needed was to soften her heart. If anything, she needed to reinforce it. Alaric had made it clear enough that this was not a marriage based on love or affection, and she had to remember that.

Her brain warned her that she was indeed behaving in an illogical manner. They had agreed to live parallel lives. Why, then, would it matter if he left for weeks at a time? More and more, she was starting to think she should visit her sister. At least then, she would be the one who left, and maybe he would understand why she was so upset.

Charlotte forced herself to look at him, wondering why her emotions were everywhere all at once. This wasn’t like her at all. She sat and stared out of the window at the wintry scene, feeling foolish. ‘I suppose you were free to leave. We did agree to live our lives separately, after all.’ After a pause, she said, ‘My sister invited me to visit her. I believe I will.’

‘If you wish to go, our coach is at your disposal.’ He poured himself a glass of water from a nearby pitcher and offered her one. ‘Are you thirsty?’

Charlotte shook her head. ‘No, thank you.’ Then, after a pause, she asked in a faint whisper, ‘Why did you leave, Alaric? Did I do something wrong?’

He stood from the chair, still holding the water glass, and came to stand beside her. His gaze was fixed upon the wintry scene outside. ‘No. You did nothing wrong, Charlotte.’

But his words weren’t reassuring at all. Clearly, she’d done something to displease him or he wouldn’t have left. Though she wanted to pretend that her ignorance hadn’t caused a rift between them, she knew better. And maybe the only way to mend it was to face her fears.

She folded her hands together. ‘Should I presume that I will be expected to fulfil my marital duties again this evening?’

He nearly choked on the water, blinking at her question. ‘I…hadn’t thought of it.’ After a slight pause, he set the glass down and ventured, ‘I presume there is no child yet?’

Charlotte shook her head. Although strangely, there was disappointment at the thought. She did want to become a mother. Maybe then her marriage wouldn’t feel so lonely.

But then, she’d always been lonely, hadn’t she? And somehow, something within her was rising up with anger. Anger that her marriage was becoming the way her childhood had made her feel—neglected and left behind.

She didn’t want that any more. Alaric had given her a taste of a holiday in which she had received gifts that she’d genuinely loved. On that day, it had felt like they had a true marriage, one in which she mattered.

And she wanted that feeling back. She wanted more from him, even if it had never been part of their rules. She just…didn’t know how to begin.

The duke’s shoulders lowered, as if he was relieved that there was no child. She didn’t know how to feel about that.

He stared outside at the snowy grounds. ‘I suppose, if you have no objections, then yes. You probably should come to my bedchamber again later tonight.’

‘Very well.’ Her voice sounded calm, revealing nothing of the insecurities building inside her. She still didn’t know what she was doing. But maybe this time, it would bring them closer together. It almost felt like a peace offering, as if Alaric was trying to reassure her.

He walked towards the doorway, then turned back. ‘Nine o’clock. And perhaps you’ll wear the stockings I gave you for Christmas?’ There was a hint of heat within his voice.

Before she could stop herself, Charlotte answered sweetly, ‘Only if you wear the socks I gave you.’

Chapter Seven

Rule 7: We will maintain separate bedchambers. You will not enter my private rooms without invitation.

The clock chimed nine o’clock, and a knock sounded on the adjoining door.

Alaric opened it and saw Charlotte wearing a dressing gown. Her hair was damp, revealing that she’d taken a bath.

He waited for her to come inside his room, and he glimpsed the cat by the hearth stretching just as he closed the door behind her. She walked towards the bed, and as she passed him, he saw that she was indeed wearing the stockings he’d given her. His body grew rigid as he imagined sliding them down her legs.

‘I have been thinking about our rules,’ she said as she sat down on the edge of the bed.