AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Nothing,” he breathed and offered her his arm again. “To the library?”
She took his arm quietly and walked with him for a moment. Her quiet demeanor told him that he had hurt her feelings again. She could not have possibly wanted him to kiss again, could she?
She broke the silence suddenly, saying, “I would like to see my father.”
Her statement caught him off guard. From her passive expression, he could not tell if she thought she needed his approval or if she only meant to keep him informed. He tried to tell himself she missed her father, and it was natural she wanted to visit him, but part of him wondered if she needed the solace of her father’s presence. Or worse, his attention had repulsed her, and she needed to get away from him. He took a breath, trying to calm his thoughts.
“You do not need my permission,” he told her in a low voice. “You are not a prisoner here. You can see him whenever you wish.”
“Of course,” she breathed then said nothing else.
* * *
They passed the afternoon reading in the library together. At one point, Fergus had some of his correspondence brought up to the library so that he could compose some of his responses while keeping Edwina company.
He noticed that she would sneak him glances. Several times, she appeared to want to ask him a question or say something to him, but she would close her mouth, thinking he had not noticed. He did not press her on it. When the butler let them know that supper was ready, Edwina snapped her book shut and stood with a sigh.
“Your Grace?” he asked, offering her his arm. She politely placed her hand on his for him to conduct her down to the supper table. “How was your book?”
“Invigorating,” she told him shortly.
He did not press her, aware that she was annoyed with something. He did not know if he should ask her or if he was supposed to know what was on her mind.
The walk down to the supper-room felt long to him in the silence. A footman pushed her chair in for her, and he sat across from her, still without speaking a word. The servants started bringing the first course, and Edwina picked up her spoon.
“Darling, I have to say the food at Hillow House is much more exquisite than at Haverton House.”
He paused, his own spoon halfway to his mouth. “Excuse me?”
“Your cook is talented,” she continued, oblivious to his shock over the pet name she used on him.
“Thank you?” he asked, wondering if she just slipped with her language. They dropped into silence again, enjoying their soup for a few moments.
She broke the silence again, asking, “Fergus, will your groom be picking out a horse for me or will you be assisting?”
Hearing his name spoken out loud sent gooseflesh down his skin, just as he thought it would when he warned her earlier in the day. He struggled to answer her question or address the casual way she spoke to him.
“I will follow up with him. Do you wish to have input on the horse we pick for you?” he replied. “And please, I told you before, I prefer if we remained formal for now.”
“Yes, dear,” she replied, refusing to meet his gaze as she continued to lift her spoon to her lips. Her lips parted, and the spoon slid across the soft skin as her eyes locked with his. His breath caught in his throat, watching her, and he wondered if she knew what she did to him. Before the war, he remembered the effect he had on women and the effect that they had on him. Women used to look at him like Edwina did now, their eyes begging for his attention. No one had looked at him the way she did in many, many years. Not since…
No. He could not even think of how she might even be trying to flirt with him. She could only be trying to annoy him or provoke him. He put down his spoon, disregarding the thought
“Why are you intentionally ignoring my request?” he demanded.
“Why are you prohibiting your wife from showing you affection?” she countered, raising her eyebrow.
“Affection? We barely know each other,” he laughed cynically. “I am not comfortable with your casualness.”
“You were perfectly comfortable between my legs last night,” she said, loud enough for all of the footmen in the room to hear.
“That is enough,” he told her sternly, his face flushing. “That is completely inappropriate for the supper table.”
“If you say so, darling,” she continued.
In frustration, he picked the napkin up out of his lap and threw it down on the table. “What is wrong with you?” he demanded. “I told you I did not like this; I asked you to stop.”
“Because you are being ridiculous!”
Pushing back his chair, he stood quickly. “We had a perfectly polite afternoon, and you have ruined our evening with your antics. Since you will not stop, I will be going out.”
“Out where?” she called out to him, her expression confused. He could not tell her, could not speak to her anymore. His pulse drummed in his head, swirling his thoughts in his brain. He had to get away.
He did not respond as he stormed from the room, his anger rushing through his veins. He did not have the words or ability to tell her how the pet names tormented him nor how uncomfortable he felt hearing her say his name. He knew from past experience with women in thetonthat she would not relent until he finally confessed his discomfort, and the reason, to her.
They were all the same. All the women in thetonwere the same. They played the same games, had the same cruel thoughts, and treated those less fortunate than them with disdain. Edwina could not be any different, no matter how much he wanted to believe it was otherwise.
As he stormed down the hall, he did not know where he might go. All he knew is that he needed away from her and away from the hurt he knew she could cause.
