He hated the way his cheeks warmed with embarrassment. And with shame, for the way she said it, as though it was a perfectly reasonable thing for Sophie to think. Which it was. But dammit, it wasn’t reasonable. If he could take it all back, he would.
He cleared his throat, but before he could speak, she said, “Of course, she’s wrong, too.”
“She is?” he said, his voice an octave higher than he would have liked.
“You’re not trying to punish me. You know that it’s impossible.” She looked up then, blue eyes meeting his. “You can’t punish someone who has nothing to lose.”
The words stung. They had when she’d spoken them in his office at Parliament, and they stung now. Except here, he was closer. And he was looking more carefully. And that’s when he saw it. The truth. The lie.
She did have something to lose.
But what?
“You’re right. I am not out for revenge.” She looked away then, as though she knew he could see into her, and she wanted to protect herself. He pressed on. “Would you like to know what Sesily thinks?”
She missed the button she was working on. “No.”
He watched her grip the hook more firmly. Try again. Miss again. He stepped closer, taking the hook from her hand. Turning her toward him. She snatched her arm away. “I don’t need your help.”
“Of course you don’t,” he said. “You’ve never needed me.”
It’s always been I who needed you.
He left that bit out, instead extending his hand to her. “Dinner awaits.” Not that he cared. He’d stand here next to her, breathing her air, for the rest of time if she’d let him.
She exhaled too harshly and slapped her arm into his outstretched hand. “Fine.”
He worked the button hook, ignoring the irritation in her voice. “Sesily thinks I want you back.”
She shook her head. “Sesily doesn’t know anything about marriage.”
He rather thought she knew quite a bit. He finished the buttons and ran a thumb across the soft silk. “Finished.” He did not release her, but he did not hold her, either. Instead, he reveled in the feel of her, of this woman for whom he’d searched for years. For whom he’d longed for years.
I want you back.
What if he said it? What would she do?
Her eyes lifted to his, her black lashes impossibly long. For a moment, he thought she would say something. Something important. Something that might change everything. But she didn’t. Instead, she took her arm from his grasp and said the least important thing she could say. The thing he’d just said himself. “Dinner awaits.”
They never said the things that were important.
They were descending the great central manor stairs when she spoke again. “It’s time you participate in this process, Mal. You’ve a choice to make.”
You, he thought. I choose you.
He swallowed back the words. “The competition begins in earnest tonight then?”
She nodded. “It does.”
“With what? Fencing? Fighting? Cutthroat charades?” Her lips twitched in a little smile, and he was quite proud of himself.
“Nothing quite so . . . on the nose.”
“No rounds? What a pity.”
She snickered. “We begin with food. She must be able to keep your house.”
He didn’t give a damn about food, but he could pretend. “Ah. Hence the duck.”
They made for the dining room. “I know you like duck.”
He shot her a look at her insistent words. “I shouldn’t have said what I did.”
“I spent months learning what you liked. Before we were married and after, even when I was not welcome in your house.” He couldn’t look away from her, even as she stared ahead, refusing to meet his eyes. “I had every intention of planning your meals. Of keeping your house. Of being your . . .”
She trailed off, but he heard the word. Wife.
And he also heard the past tense.
Why were they always in the past?
“Also, I know you loathe asparagus,” she said, and the words were injected with something akin to smug triumph.
“I do,” he said.
“You just wanted to undermine me.”
“You’ve been avoiding me.” Not that it was an excuse, but it was the truth.
“You never said we had to interact.” He sighed, and she misunderstood it for irritation. “You know, you brought this upon yourself, Haven. You decided you wanted a new wife. You decided you wanted me to select her. This is the process. Imagine. You might even like one of them.”
But he wouldn’t love one of them.
“I don’t need to like them to marry them,” he said, knowing he sounded like a beast.
“It helps, don’t you think?”
“I wouldn’t know,” he replied. “We never liked each other.”
“Nonsense,” she said as they approached the dining room. “If we hadn’t liked each other so much, perhaps it all wouldn’t have gone so wrong.” Before he could reply, she said, “I’ve put you with Miss Mary. Be kind,” and nodded to the footman standing guard outside the dining room. The boy opened the door, revealing the motley crew of houseguests, who all turned to see the duke and duchess arrive.
“Wait,” he said, and she had to turn back else risk censure for ignoring him. There were benefits to being a duke. He lowered his voice and said, “What do you think I brought you here for?”
They’d discussed her sisters’ theories. But he cared only for hers.
She watched him for a long moment before she said, low enough that only he could hear, “I think I am here to be your toy.”
“What on earth does that mean?”
“You don’t want me, but you don’t want anyone else to have me, either. You never have.” They were not true, but the words stung with brutal honesty, because she believed them. And then she added, “You don’t want any part of a life with me.”
The words sent a chill through him, evoking a memory he’d forgotten. A memory he wanted to expel immediately. Hang dinner and everyone at it. “Sera—”
She shook her head. “Your Grace. I have been in this particular position before.” She was already turning to the room, where a collection of fresh-faced women was waiting.
At a table laden with asparagus.
He looked to his wife, knowing smirk on her lips.
She was wrong. He did want her. He wanted the life with her.
And, this time, he would not stop until he had it.
Chapter 15
Tick Tock Talbot Triumphs!
April 1833
Haven House, Mayfair
He heard her the moment she entered the house.
If Haven were honest, he heard her the moment her carriage pulled to a stop in the street outside the door. The moment she stepped out, like a goddamn queen. He couldn’t see her from his study, but he could feel her, changing the air in the square beyond. Thieving it.
He heard her in the sharp rap of the knocker on the door, and for a heartbeat, he considered telling the footman not to answer.
But therein lay the problem that would always exist between him and Seraphina Talbot—he would always answer her call. Like a damned sailor to a siren. It had been three days since they’d been caught, with another week to pass before they were tied together forever. And it would only grow worse after they married.