Page 44 of His Unwanted Duchess

He stared down at her. The air seemed to grow heavy between them.

“Now, I had thought that you wanted to be excused from your wifely duties, my dear?”

Her face burned. “I didn’t mean… oh, come over here, let’s talk in private.”

Without waiting for a response, she grabbed his sleeve and towed him through an arched doorway that led to a dark hallway outside. The heat and noise were muffled out there, making her feel oddly removed from all the chaos unfolding mere feet away.

Perhaps it was a mistake, in hindsight. Stephen immediately stepped forward, too close, forcing her to step back, bumping her back against the wall.

“We have a rather singular arrangement, do we not?” Beatrice persisted, lifting her chin and holding his gaze. “Nobody else knows, and you were keen to keep it that way, yes?”

“Indeed.”

“Well, if we spend our wedding day avoiding each other, and then spend our wedding night apart, don’t you think people will talk?”

He paused, tilting his head to the side, considering. Beatrice waited for him to think it over, hating how her heart hammered.

That sudden, insidious feeling ofwantingkept threatening to come back. She wasn’t entirely sure what she should do about it. Was it normal, having been kissed by a handsome man, to imagine kissing him again?

Probably.

“The thing is,” he said, thoughtfully tapping his chin, “if I ever lie with you, my dear little wife, we will not have to pretend.”

Now, what wasthatsupposed to mean? Her face was certainly beet red by now, and the gloom of the hallway could not quite hide it.

“I feel like I must ask,” he said, abruptly changing tone, “whether you know what it is you are asking for, my dear.”

“All I am asking for,” she ground out, “is a littlediscretion. I don’t particularly want the whole of the tonto know you aren’t sharing my bed.”

“What I mean is, do you even know what happens during the act? Perhaps that kiss we shared at the altar is all the proof Society needs.”

She glared at him. “You are enjoying this.”

“That is hardly the point.”

“For your information, I read books,Your Grace.”

He gave a short laugh. “Oh, forgive me! You readbooks! Of course, all the information about living life can be found in a book!”

“Yes,” Beatrice snapped, a little disconcerted. “Yes, it can. And I know that we can quite easily share a bedroom without producing a child if you can keep your hands to yourself.”

“And canyoukeep your hands to yourself, my dear?”

She blinked. “Yes. Yes, I can, quite easily.”

She did not allow herself to imagine what it would be like to lie side by side in a bed with Stephen. In her imagination, the bed was a fairly narrow one so that they lay close like sardines, shoulders brushing, sharing heat under the blanket.

Why was her heart pounding harder than ever?

“I do hope,” he drawled, “that you have no intention of turning mother, like your dear friend. Because, as you doubtless recall quite well, that is out of the question for us.”

She bristled. “Of course,I remember. I don’t want children—not now, not never. So perhaps it would be best if youdidtake yourself off, mydear husband.”

He only chuckled. “Whatever you say, my dear, whatever you say.”

He pushed past her, disappearing into the crowd, leaving her feeling out of place, frustrated, with a pounding heart and that feeling of wanting in her gut.

No. I will not allow this.

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