Captain Amberton's Inherited Bride (Whitby Weddings 2)

‘There’s only so much a man can do.’

She scrunched her mouth up thoughtfully. ‘So we’d live together as brother and sister for seven years?’

‘If that’s what you want. No one else need ever know. Even lawyers can’t stick their noses into private bedrooms. We can both sleep where we choose.’

She nodded, struck with an unexpected combination of relief and disappointment. She ought to be pleased, but it was hard not to be offended by such a genteel offer from such a notorious ladies’ man. She could hardly have asked for a clearer indication of his interest in her. Apparently he didn’t find her remotely attractive. Which led to another problem... Considering his reputation, if he didn’t want to share a bed with her, then whose would he?

‘What about in the meantime?’ She tried to ask the question nonchalantly. ‘Would there be other women?’

‘Would I take a mistress, do you mean?’ His teeth flashed in a grin.

‘It’s not a joke!’

‘Apologies. You caught me by surprise, but in answer to your question, no, I would not. I haven’t always had the highest regard for marital vows—other peoples’, that is—but I’ve learnt my lesson in that regard. If it’s my reputation you’re worried about, then I promise you, those days are over. I haven’t so much as looked at a woman in the past seven months. Ask Mrs Gargrave if you don’t believe me. All the maids have their virtues intact, though, of course, I can’t vouch for their behaviour with the footmen.’

‘I’ll ask no such thing!’

‘Not that I’ve lost any physical functions beyond my leg.’ He glanced pointedly downwards. ‘My injury wasn’t quite as interesting as I’m sure some of the gossips would have you believe.’

‘Lance!’

He raised his hands in a gesture of apology. ‘I’m only trying to reassure you that when it comes to producing an heir, the rest of my body’s still in full functioning order. I’ve only lost interest in the process, so to speak. I’m more than willing to fulfil my husbandly duties from a purely procreational perspective, but in all other respects you’d find me one of the most loyal husbands in England.’

‘Oh.’ She picked up her spoon and scooped up the remains of the melted ice from her bowl, hoping it might do something to cool her flaming cheeks. Well, she’d asked the question and he’d given her an answer. A pretty definitive one, too.

Lost interest in the process...

Somehow those words were the most disappointing of all.

Chapter Nine

Lance watched as Violet ate the last of her dessert, vaguely amazed at how much she’d eaten. For a small woman, she clearly had a voracious appetite, clearing away every last morsel of food that was set in front of her. Now she was licking what remained of the ice on her spoon in a way that made him feel hungry in a different way altogether. The feeling was even more powerful now than it had been that morning.

She seemed to be full of surprises this evening. Her appearance for starters. Not just the fact that she was out of mourning and had shed almost two feet of hair, but that she looked quite jaw-droppingly gorgeous as well. He’d ordered the blue gown on a whim, partly because he hadn’t been able to think of anything else as a wedding present and a grey mourning gown on its own had seemed somewhat dismal, partly because he’d never forgotten how vibrantly blue her eyes were. It seemed to fit her perfectly, too, despite his having to guess the measurements based solely on the memory of one dance. A memory that struck him now as uncannily accurate.

Her questions about their marital sleeping arrangements had taken him by surprise, too, though in all honesty they’d also come as something of a relief. He’d been wondering how to broach the subject himself, afraid of scaring her off, but it turned out that she already knew more about marriage than he’d assumed—although still not enough, apparently, to give it a try. She’d looked mortified the whole way through their conversation.

Of course, that might simply have been shyness, but the readiness at which she’d agreed to a seven-year delay suggested otherwise. What the hell had he been thinking, coming up with such a ridiculous idea? He’d just suggested seven years of celibacy! That was another surprise. A week, even a day, ago he wouldn’t particularly have cared, but watching her lick up the remains of her dessert, he suddenly, very definitely did. Just when he’d claimed to have lost interest in the process, too!

‘Shall we move next door?’ He cleared his throat huskily.

She nodded, draining the last of her wine before following him through the hall to the drawing room. A fire was roaring in the grate and she rushed forward to sit on a footstool in front of it.

‘Are you cold?’ He looked down at her with concern.

‘No. I’ve just always wanted to sit right in front.?

?

He guessed the implication. Yet another thing she hadn’t been allowed to do...

‘Was your father worried about you getting too close?’

‘Maybe, although in that case I could have sat beside him, but my chair was always set behind his.’

‘Then how could he see you?’

She shrugged. ‘I don’t think he wanted to see me. Sometimes I think he didn’t like looking at me at all.’