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“Enjoy it? That’s what I am trying to tell you. It was terrible!”

“Terrible?”

“The sounds you made were… animalistic.”

“I made sounds?”

“Yes! Terrible, awful sounds. And the smell!”

Tyrone swallowed, his cheeks burning from humiliation. “Now listen here… I might not have been in possession of all my faculties last night, and I was deeply in my cups, but… but I don’t make animalistic sounds when I come, and I would never leave a woman unsatisfied.”

She squinted at him, her nose twitching adorably. “What are you talking about?”

“What are you talking about?”

“I am talking about last night!”

“Well, so am I. And whenever I spend a passionate night in a woman’s arms, whether it’s her first time or not, I make certain to pleasure her before finding my own bliss.”

“A passionate night?” She pursed her lips as if not to laugh. “Is that how you remember it?”

He crossed his arms over his chest. “How do you remember it?”

She licked her lips. “I remember you coming to my bed in the middle of the night. You appeared before me for the first time since you abandoned me right after we spoke our vows wearing a bouquet of odors I’d rather not remember. And the only bliss you found, lucky for me, was that of a deep slumber.”

“Slumber?”

“Yes! You undid your breeches and fell on top of me! I could barely breathe, and it took me half the night to slide from beneath you only for you to shift and force me off the bed! I slept—or attempted to sleep—on the settee. And the moment I drifted into sleep, I’d wake up from your loud and obnoxious snoring!”

“I resent the implication that I was not able to perform my marital duty!” Perhaps it wasn’t the part he should’ve concentrated on, but it was a matter of pride.

She let out a laugh of disbelief. “You resent the truth?”

He started undoing the falls of his breeches again. “Fine. Then we shall do it right here. Now.”

She took a step back, her face a picture of obstinance. “I’d rather die.”

He paused with his hands on the band of his breeches. “I might not remember most of last night, but I do remember you vowing to obey me.”

“And I also remember our deal.” She didn’t miss a beat. “I conceded to not interfere in your affairs as long as it did not affect me, but this does. I am not going to be treated like a trollop. And you are not to come to my bedchamber unless you are completely sober.”

Tyrone scoffed, watching his new bride carefully. If this was how she wanted to play it, so be it. But he was going to win. “Then I won’t grace your bed at all,” he said with a deceptive softness. “However, keep in mind that until we consummate our marriage, you are not officially my bride. Which means…” His pause was deliberate, his eyes condescendingly running down her body. “That you don’t get any allowance.”

Then he turned on his heels and stalked away.

The blood still boiled in his veins and the colors around him became vibrant somehow. This dull, dusty house full of nasty memories only ever livened up for him when he was drunk.

Drunk. Hmm.

What a glorious idea.

Chapter Eight

Her husband held his promise. Ever since their confrontation in her bedroom the morning after their nuptials, he hadn’t come to her bed, nor did he arrange for her allowance. In fact, he hadn’t appeared in the house at all.

Emily regretted her behavior. Why oh why hadn’t she lied during the conversation with the duke? One little lie could have solved all of her problems. At the very least, she shouldn’t have barred him from her chamber. She had turned their fight over and over in her mind, rewriting the dialog, changing her answers. But, of course, the best ideas came after the fact. At that moment, she had felt sickly, tired, and lacking sleep. She couldn’t have acted more rationally.

However, his absence allowed Emily to settle her family into the townhouse without his interference. Two days later, she decided to take her family for a jaunt in the park.