‘I did nothing of the kind.’
He reached to touch her hand, and she pulled away from him.
He smiled, coldly. ‘Of course not, my dear. You are just as welcoming now as you were before. I touched your shoulder, and you looked to all the world as if I had struck you.’
‘I thought it was agreed—’
‘When I agreed to a marriage in name only, I did not realise that you found me so utterly repugnant that you would deny me all physical contact. Nor did I expect that you would make the fact known to my friends.’
‘You do not repel me.’ No matter how much she might wish he did.
‘Oh, really? Then you had best prove it to me. Take my hand and assure me.’
She stared at the hand he held out to her, the long fingers curled to beckon, but she made no move to take it.
He nodded. ‘I see. Most comforting.’
‘I do not see why it is so important to you.’ You have her attention. Why must you have mine as well?
He stared back at her until she met his eyes. ‘I am a proud man. I do not deny it. It does not reflect well on either of us to have the full details of our relationship as public gossip. We are married, and I hope to remain so. The time will pass more easily for both of us if you can bring yourself to be at ease in my company, at least when we are in public. I will not bother you at home any more than is necessary.’
There was frustration and anger in his eyes, but they were still the same compelling blue, and just as hard to resist as they had been when she had trusted his motives. ‘How can I do this?’ she asked herself, as much as she did him.
His shoulders relaxed a little. ‘You could, on occasion, smile while in public. I would not expect unceasing mirth. Merely as pleasant a face as you wear when we are alone. And if my hand should happen to brush yours, you need not flinch from it.’ He raised his hand in oath. ‘I promise to treat you with the care and respect due my wife and my duchess.’ And then he offered it to her again.
She closed her eyes, knowing in her heart what his respect for his wife was worth, if he could not respect the marriage of another. Then she reached tentatively out to put her hand in his.
She heard him sigh, and his fingers closed over hers, stroking briefly before pushing her hand back until they were palm to palm and he could link fingers with her. He squeezed. ‘There. Feel? There is nothing to be afraid of. I mean you no harm.’ His other hand came to her face, and the fingertips brushed lightly against her cheek. ‘I only wish for you to leave others with the impression that there is some warm feeling between us. Nothing more. That perhaps we might share something other than an interest in your money. Help me undo my foolish words.’ His hand touched her hair and stroked to the back of her neck, and he moved close enough so she could feel his breath on her skin, and the change in the air against her lips as he spoke.
‘This is much better, is it not?’ His voice was low and husky, as she had never heard it before, barely more than a whisper.
She opened her eyes. He was right. When he was this close and looking at her, it ceased to matter how he looked at other women. She could feel the magnetic pull to be even closer. She had but to lean in a few inches, and his lips would be upon hers.
Which was madness. She had to resist yet another urge to jump away from him in alarm, and watched as his pupils shrank, and the soft smile on his face returned to its normal, more businesslike form. He withdrew slowly, with easy, unruffled grace. ‘Very good. That is much more what I had hoped for. I do not expect you to fall passionately into my arms as a false display for visitors. But if we could at least give the appearance that we are on friendly terms, I would be most grateful.’ His fingers untwined and his hand slipped away from hers.
‘Most certainly. For I do wish to be on friendly terms with you in more than appearance.’ She sighed, and hoped it sounded like a longing for her books, and not for renewed contact. ‘And now, if you will excuse me? I must return to work.’
‘Of course.’
Adam left the room, closing the door behind him, and moved quickly down the hall. Hell and damnation, it had been an unbearable morning. First, the invasion of his friends, before he’d had a chance to explain to Penny how things were likely to be. Although she probably suspected, what with the way Clarissa had been making a fool of herself, with no care for the fact that Tim was in the room with them.
Penny must think him a complete fraud. She had looked around the room, at his friends and at Clarissa, and had seen it all. She’d read his character in a glance and must regret her decision.
And he, who had always been so sure of his words, even when nothing else would go right for him, had stumbled so egregiously as to let it appear that he had married her for money. If possible, it was even worse than the truth to say such a thing. He had allowed her no dignity at all. And he had seen the mocking light in the eyes of his friends when she had flinched from his touch.
He had been foolishly angry, at himself and at Clarissa, and had taken it out on Penny for not offering affection that he had not earned. But what had he been about, just now? Had he been trying to teach her some kind of lesson? Hopefully, it had been lost on her, if he had. He should have come back to her and taken her hand in a most friendly fashion, and tried to mend the breach he had caused. He should have assured her that although he had been guilty of grave transgressions, it was all in the past, and that he meant to be a better man.
Instead, he had touched her hair and forgotten all. What sense was it to talk when there were soft lips so close, waiting to be kissed? And she had closed her eyes so sweetly, allowing him to observe the fine lashes and the smooth cheek and the sweetness of her breath as it mingled with his. It was a matter of inches, a bare nod of the head to bring them into contact with his own, and to slip his tongue into her mouth and kiss her until she reacted to his touch with the eagerness he expected in a wife.
He shook his head again. Had he forgotten whom he was speaking of? If he needed to persuade his own wife to let him hold her hand, then passion-drugged nights were not likely to be in the offing.
Not while he remained at home, at any rate. Perhaps it had been too long since last he visited his mistress. A man had urges, after all. And he was neglecting his if his own wife began to tempt him more than someone else’s. An afternoon relaxing in the arms of his paramour would clear his mind, which was clouded with misdirected lust, and make it easier to decide what to do about the impossible relationship with Clarissa and the unwelcome attraction to Penelope.
He called for a carriage and set out to regain control of his emotions.
As he passed out the door, he saw Penny’s manservant, who stood at the entrance to the house, wearing the Bellston livery as though it were as great an honour as a night in the stocks. He looked at Adam and bowed with as much respect as the other servants, while conveying the impression that the lady of the house was worth two dukes.
Adam glared back at him. ‘Jem, isn’t it?’
‘Yes, your Grace.’ And another bow.
Damn the man. Adam fished in his pocket and came up with a handful of banknotes and forced them into the servant’s hand. ‘I have an errand for you. Go to the bookseller’s. And buy my wife that damned copy of Homer.’
Chapter Nine
In the two years they had been together, Adam’s mistress, Felicity, had been a most accommodating and entertaining companion. But now, as he looked at her, he could not seem to remember why. She was beautiful, of course. There was little reason to have her otherwise. While she might not be the most enchanting conversationalist, he employed her to listen, not to talk. And so it mattered