‘If it upsets you so much, I will not insist.’ Grant pushed his fingers through his hair, the habitual giveaway that he was frustrated. He would circle round, come back to this, she knew.
‘And Henry would be a most unsuitable uncle for Charlie, a really bad influence.’ That went home, she saw. ‘May I have the carriage tomorrow? I need to go into Newcastle to have my hair done.’
‘Surely the coiffeur will come here, or it can wait until you get to London?’
‘Oh, did I not tell you?’ She had not, quite deliberately. ‘I saw an advertisement in the Newcastle Courier that Monsieur Ducasse, late of Monsieur Maurice’s establishment in Bond Street, has set up in Newcastle. And Monsieur Maurice advertises in all the best journals—La Belle Assemblée and so on. I would feel so much more comfortable with a fashionable style. I wrote to reserve a private parlour at the King’s Head and he will attend me there.’ Grant opened his mouth and she said hastily, ‘Wilson will accompany me, of course.’
‘Then of course you may have the carriage.’ Grant got to his feet and lifted her hand to kiss the tips of her fingers. ‘Not that you need any changes to make you look quite delightful, my dear.’
‘Flatterer.’ She laughed up at him and pulled his hand back to rest fleetingly against her own lips. I love you and now I will lie and deceive and do whatever it takes to get through this ordeal without you ever discovering who the woman you married really is.
*
‘Kate?’ Grant stopped dead in the hallway, then advanced slowly, like a cat who has seen something that may be prey, or may be something alien and dangerous. ‘What have you done?’ he demanded as he completed the circle.
Grimswade, who had appeared the moment the carriage drew up, effaced himself, closely followed by Wilson clutching Kate’s bonnet, pelisse and reticule.
‘Monsieur Ducasse gave me a new style.’ She smiled brightly at him and fluffed the soft curls that framed her face. ‘I think it’s very dashing.’
‘He’s cut it.’ Grant’s green eyes were narrowed as he studied the effect.
‘Just the front. I knew it would curl if he did that. The back is still long, so it can be put up. You see?’ Kate turned right round, skirts belling out.
‘It changes the shape of your face.’
She still couldn’t work out whether he liked it or not, or whether he realised that she had plucked her eyebrows into a finer arch. ‘I think it shows off my cheekbones. I didn’t know I had any before.’
‘And the colour…’ Grant was prowling again.
‘Just a shade darker. Monsieur Ducasse said it would make my eyes look bigger.’ He came to a halt in front of her and she widened her eyes at him. ‘And bluer.’ And he had stained her eyebrows to match. Wilson had the little brush and bottle safely tucked away.
‘You look more sophisticated,’ Grant said at last, when she thought she would go dizzy from holding her breath.
‘Is that code for older?’ She hoped it was. She wanted to look as different as possible from that wide-eyed, unsophisticated girl who had been the bait to catch a lord in a blackmailer’s snare.
‘Just a trifle.’ Grant seemed to have relaxed, lids heavy over his green eyes. ‘It certainly makes you look more…experienced.’ There was a wealth of hidden meaning in the one, drawled, word.
He likes it. That was a relief.
‘Maman!’ Charlie appeared, at the run as usual, skidded to a halt and stared. Then he circled her, just as his father had done, but with his mouth open.
Grant laughed. ‘Your maman has had a haircut. Fancy, isn’t it?’
‘It’s prime!’ Charlie approved. ‘Is it for London?’
‘It is.’ Grant’s gaze met hers over the boy’s head. ‘I’m glad you are getting into the spirit of the London expedition, Kate. It is past your bedtime, Charlie, off you go.’
‘I’m doing my best.’ She bent to kiss the boy before he ran off to the stairs, then slid her hand through the crook of her husband’s elbow and leaned in a little, enjoying the smell of leather and the hint of coffee and the familiar, beloved scent that was simply Grant. She had been away all day and she had missed him, even for those few hours.
He turned his head from watching Charlie’s retreating form, looked down at her and became ver
y still. His eyes, which were usually green, darkened to hazel, as they did when he was tired, or angry or aroused. And this was definitely arousal, reacting to something he saw in her expression. ‘Kate.’
Her chest was so tight that her lungs felt hollow. He was going to kiss her, here and now in the hallway, and she was going to say it, tell him she loved him, and she could not, must not. Not when she was lying to him, deceiving him. ‘Of course, it will mean a great strain on my dress allowance and my pin money.’ She fluttered her eyelashes outrageously. ‘Will you increase it, or will you be mean and beat me if I overspend?’
‘I might do both,’ Grant said, low-voiced. ‘I might increase it so you may buy outrageous garments and then spank you just for the hell of it.’ His expression promised considerably more pleasure than pain and she knew he was not a man who would raise a hand to a woman in anger. Was spanking another of those erotic games he was beginning to show her?
‘That sounds interesting,’ Kate murmured. ‘But you’d have to chase me first.’