Part 18 (1/2)

He shrugged insouciantly. ”I had business there. I often have business in London.”

”Of course, but we were married only two days past.”

”I am quite aware of when we married,” he said irritably. He tossed the whiskey down his throat andturned to face her. ”Commerce does not cease for weddings, births, or funerals.”

”Oh...then it was something that couldn't wait?” she asked hopefully, and waited for him to confirm that yes, it had been something so terribly important it could not have possibly waited another moment- something so important that it would cause a man to leave the woman he'd wedded only the day before.

As that was very far from the truth, her question made him extremely uncomfortable and he sighed impatiently. ”I will indulge your questions on this occasion, Lady Middleton, as we are fairly new to one another, but I do not like to be questioned so closely. I went to London so that I could set up an allowance for you and your family. I have now returned from London. But I often travel as business and obligations dictate. In fact, in a few days, I shall travel to Marshbridge to see about some cattle.”

”To Marshbridge?” she echoed incredulously.

”Your lady's maid will arrive in a few days,” he reminded her. ”I am certain you will have much to keep you occupied, what with all that you must learn about Broderick Abbey. You will hardly notice my absence at all.”

”But I will,” she said bleakly, as if he'd just announced he was leaving for the Continent for an indefinite amount of time. ”How long shall you be away?”

As long as is required to rid myself of these unnatural feelings. ”I am uncertain,” he said. ”Two days.

Perhaps longer.”

She blinked, and looked at her hands.

He felt, of a sudden, rather tired and cross. ”Shall I see you at supper?” he asked curtly.

Ava lifted her head, and the mildly irked look in her green eyes agitated him. Why did she look at him like that? They'd made their bargain-would she pretend now that she didn't know exactly what they'd agreed? Her womb for his name, nothing more than that. She seemed to have already forgotten it, was intent on shackling him from the very outset. He abruptly turned away from her. ”I shall join you downstairs.”

There was a moment's hesitation, then the sound of her leaving his room.

An hour later, Jared joined Ava in the salon. She had changed her clothes, and was wearing a cream-colored silk gown embroidered with dark green leaves that made her look a bit like an angel. Around her throat was a triple strand of pearls that matched those clipped to her ears and strung in her hair. He had thought her pretty once, but the more he saw of her, the more he found her to be uniquely beautiful.

She was pacing a little when he walked into the salon, oblivious to the two footmen who attended her. She jerked her gaze to him when the door closed behind him, her eyes quickly taking him in as she walked across the room to him. She dropped a very quick curtsy, and just as quickly, rose up on her toes to peck him on the cheek.

He smiled wryly. ”Been in the whiskey again, have you?” he teased her.

”Not as yet. Should I begin?” she asked sarcastically.

He hated that look on her face; he wanted to see her sunny smile again. ”You may do as you like. You won't mind if I have one, will you?” Indeed, one of the footmen was moving toward the sideboard as he spoke. He motioned for Ava to take a seat on the settee, and sat beside her.

When the footman had presented him with the whiskey, he held it up to her in silent toast. ”A very lovely gown,” he said, taking it in. ”Quite fetching.”

She smiled thinly and sat rather stiffly next to him. Neither of them spoke. His bride, always so exuberant, was very subdued.

”Does the abbey meet with your approval?” he asked idly, hardly caring of her answer, wanting only to break the cold silence that was enveloping them.

But she looked at him as if he were mad. ”Very much, my lord.”He glanced at the arm of the settee. ”Did Dawson look after you while I was away?” he asked as heplucked absently at the seam in the fabric.

”He did, indeed. Miss Hillier, too. She's very fond of you.””And I of her,” he admitted. ”She was my nursemaid.””Yes,” Ava said, glancing away. ”She said as much. She told me how you were five years before you could p.r.o.nounce the letter s.”

He shook his head. Miss Hillier could drive him quite round the bend on occasion. ”Did you have anursemaid?” he asked for sake of conversation.”Several. My mother couldn't seem to keep them employed for very long. I suppose we were so terribly spoiled that no one could bear us.”

He could well imagine the three of them torturing some poor nursemaid. ”Spoiled?”

”Oh, dreadfully!” she exclaimed, and seemed to relax as she began to tell him tales, in great animation, of her life at Bingley Hall. It was odd, he thought, that a person could swear his devotion to a woman and know so little about her. The years at Bingley Hall were obviously her fondest memory, and he wasn't even certain where it was.

But at least the memory of it animated her, and he enjoyed watching her talk, her hands movingexpressively, her green eyes glimmering with tales of what seemed a happy childhood. When Dawsonannounced supper, and he escorted his wife to her seat, she told him again of her mother's death andhow suddenly it had come. His heart went out to her-his own mother had been gone a long time now,but he remembered that deep sense of loss, the hole in him that his mother's love had once filled.

”Oh dear,” Ava said, dabbing at the corner of her eye with her napkin. ”I beg your pardon, my lord...Idon't know what's come over me.”

He reached for her hand. ”She was very dear to you, obviously.”

She nodded, and when she'd regained her composure, she turned her attention back to her plate andtook a bite of pike. ”Do you remember your mother?”

”Of course,” he responded. But he didn't tell her that his memory of her was fading more with each pa.s.sing year.

”If I may...where is Redford?” she asked.

Just the mention of his father's estate and his childhood home caused him to flinch inwardly. ”North,” he said tightly.

”What was it-”

”It is nothing but a distant memory now that I really don't recall,” he said, interrupting her before shecould quiz him endlessly on a period of his life he'd just as soon forget.

She looked at him with surprise.

He could see that the tone of his voice had upset her-really, almost everything he'd done since marrying her-with the exception of bedding her-had upset her. He sighed wearily and put aside his fork. ”Do forgive me, but I don't recall a particularly happy childhood. As you can imagine, my father was quite... stern,” he added.

She asked nothing else, and they continued their meal in silence. It seemed to Jared to stretch into hours. He ate and thought of London, of the many things he would be doing were he there, and how he could not bear to wile away the days here in pursuit of some elusive domesticity.

When supper was finished, and the footman had cleared the last of the dishes away, Jared reached into his coat pocket and extracted a cheroot. He held it up to Ava. ”If it offends you, I shall step outside.”

”No,” she said, shaking her head, and gestured for him to smoke it.

He lit it, exhaled a ring of smoke, and smiled at her. ”You must be tired. If you should like to retire, then by all means, you must do so.”

She smiled. ”I'm not tired,” she said. ”I can stay as long as you like.”

That was precisely what he was afraid of. Just looking at her now, her cheeks rosy from the dinner wine, her long, tapered fingers dancing on the stem of the gla.s.s, he felt a tug of desire to take her to his bed. And once again, that desire unnerved him, and put him on uneven ground. He didn't want to physically desire her at all, for that only made the situation more difficult.