of that sheer physicality was dizzying. “I suggest you take your idle threats and leave my bedchamber.”
“But that would be almost gentlemanly of me.”
“Not precisely. You’re still acting like a lowborn ogre.”
His expression shifted, like a door closing, and he straightened up. “As you wish.” He moved away, his usual equanimity restored. “We dine at eight.”
She almost regretted seeing his mask slip back into place, as though he’d just locked the most genuine part of himself away. “I am tired,” she said. “I shall ask my maid to have a tray brought up.”
“No, that will not do. We’ve been apart far too long.” His impervious tone gave her no quarter. “Either you join me in the dining chamber, or I shall meet you back here.”
“Very well. I shall see you at eight.”
…
Even in the dining room, with footmen in attendance, the meal proved to be far too intimate an affair for Bella. Sebastian rose to his feet when she entered. She’d deliberately descended past eight in order to avoid partaking in before-supper drinks with him.
The sight of her place set next to Sebastian’s at the head of the table made her stop short. “I prefer to take my rightful place at the head of the table.” At the opposite end from him, as far away as she could get and still be seated at the same table.
“A wife’s rightful place is by her husband’s side.” A nod from the master of the house prompted the footman to stand aside for Sebastian to pull out the chair next to his. “Sit. Please.”
Unwilling to cause a scene in front of the staff, she took the chair he offered. As he retook his seat, she busied her hands by adjusting her skirts. She’d selected a more demure gown this evening, a pale peach with a modest neckline. The amused approval in his eyes suggested he’d noticed. After dismissing the footmen, he said, “I must say that gown is an improvement over this afternoon’s display. Although, I would not object if you continued to wear your scarlet gown privately for me in the future.”
She made a mental note to wear her most obscene gown when they made their first official public appearance as a couple. And her most chaste one for their moments alone in private. “I wish to discuss your marital rights.”
His brows lifted with obvious interest. “Yes?”
“I hope you do not plan to claim them.”
“Then your hopes will be dashed because I most certainly intend to claim them.”
“Whether I am willing or not?”
“You seemed willing enough this afternoon.”
Angry embarrassment heated her cheeks. “Do you intend to assert you rights even if I object?”
He sighed. “No. I would never force you. That is no way to begin our life together. It would hardly bode well for our future happiness.”
She fidgeted with her soupspoon. “Good. I’m relieved we’ve settled that.”
“Oh, it is hardly settled. I will give you time to adjust to your new situation, but I will not wait forever. I am no saint.”
She supposed it was the best she could hope for. The footmen entered with the next course, spiriting away the soup she’d barely touched and laying out the meat and vegetable dishes. Bella sampled her Madeira.
“What are you drinking?” she asked, eying the clear liquid and wedge of lemon in his glass.
He followed her gaze to his glass. “Fizzy mineral water.”
“Mineral water?”
“Yes, my friend Charles Plinth has developed a fountain that retains the sparkling quality of the water.”
“It is portable?”
“The drink is delivered every few days and then returned to him for refilling.” The lights in his green eyes sparkled. “It is my only real indulgence.”
She realized just how little she knew about her husband. “You don’t take port or wine with dinner?”
“I can’t abide spirits of any kind.”
Bella had never met anyone who didn’t take spirits. It was unheard of, even among the poor. “You don’t drink any spirits? Rum, wine, gin,
“But that would be almost gentlemanly of me.”
“Not precisely. You’re still acting like a lowborn ogre.”
His expression shifted, like a door closing, and he straightened up. “As you wish.” He moved away, his usual equanimity restored. “We dine at eight.”
She almost regretted seeing his mask slip back into place, as though he’d just locked the most genuine part of himself away. “I am tired,” she said. “I shall ask my maid to have a tray brought up.”
“No, that will not do. We’ve been apart far too long.” His impervious tone gave her no quarter. “Either you join me in the dining chamber, or I shall meet you back here.”
“Very well. I shall see you at eight.”
…
Even in the dining room, with footmen in attendance, the meal proved to be far too intimate an affair for Bella. Sebastian rose to his feet when she entered. She’d deliberately descended past eight in order to avoid partaking in before-supper drinks with him.
The sight of her place set next to Sebastian’s at the head of the table made her stop short. “I prefer to take my rightful place at the head of the table.” At the opposite end from him, as far away as she could get and still be seated at the same table.
“A wife’s rightful place is by her husband’s side.” A nod from the master of the house prompted the footman to stand aside for Sebastian to pull out the chair next to his. “Sit. Please.”
Unwilling to cause a scene in front of the staff, she took the chair he offered. As he retook his seat, she busied her hands by adjusting her skirts. She’d selected a more demure gown this evening, a pale peach with a modest neckline. The amused approval in his eyes suggested he’d noticed. After dismissing the footmen, he said, “I must say that gown is an improvement over this afternoon’s display. Although, I would not object if you continued to wear your scarlet gown privately for me in the future.”
She made a mental note to wear her most obscene gown when they made their first official public appearance as a couple. And her most chaste one for their moments alone in private. “I wish to discuss your marital rights.”
His brows lifted with obvious interest. “Yes?”
“I hope you do not plan to claim them.”
“Then your hopes will be dashed because I most certainly intend to claim them.”
“Whether I am willing or not?”
“You seemed willing enough this afternoon.”
Angry embarrassment heated her cheeks. “Do you intend to assert you rights even if I object?”
He sighed. “No. I would never force you. That is no way to begin our life together. It would hardly bode well for our future happiness.”
She fidgeted with her soupspoon. “Good. I’m relieved we’ve settled that.”
“Oh, it is hardly settled. I will give you time to adjust to your new situation, but I will not wait forever. I am no saint.”
She supposed it was the best she could hope for. The footmen entered with the next course, spiriting away the soup she’d barely touched and laying out the meat and vegetable dishes. Bella sampled her Madeira.
“What are you drinking?” she asked, eying the clear liquid and wedge of lemon in his glass.
He followed her gaze to his glass. “Fizzy mineral water.”
“Mineral water?”
“Yes, my friend Charles Plinth has developed a fountain that retains the sparkling quality of the water.”
“It is portable?”
“The drink is delivered every few days and then returned to him for refilling.” The lights in his green eyes sparkled. “It is my only real indulgence.”
She realized just how little she knew about her husband. “You don’t take port or wine with dinner?”
“I can’t abide spirits of any kind.”
Bella had never met anyone who didn’t take spirits. It was unheard of, even among the poor. “You don’t drink any spirits? Rum, wine, gin,
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