Page 41 of Married to a Scandalous Spinster
And nothing, she reminded herself, had shown that more clearly than last night. Mere hours after Wyatt had promised to stay away from the gambling halls, he had been gallivanting around town with Lord Anderson, no doubt with a drink in his hand and a woman on his arm. Gemma had promised her grandmother that she would not end up with a man who enjoyed the drink as much as her father. It had been a promise she had been unable to keep, through no fault of her own. But she could—and would—protect her own sanity by refusing to give Wyatt her heart.
Yes, he had assured her he had not been in the company of another woman last night. But Gemma was not sure if she believed him. She knew men like him. She knew of their empty promises, and of the smooth words they rattled out to keep the peace.
And I know better than to trust them.
She gave her face another splash at the washstand for good measure, then hurried back out to her bedchamber, shoving the torn nightgown in the bottom of the drawer before Ivy could return.
Sandra Felps sipped from her teacup and surveyed the breakfast table. Something was different this morning.
Oh yes, something is definitely different.
Gemma had appeared almost shyly at the breakfast table, with a glow in her cheeks Sandra was sure had not been there yesterday. When Martha had attacked her over the dour brown day dress she had worn to breakfast, Gemma had not snapped back as she was wont to do but had instead let the comment glide right past her. Meanwhile, the bright smile Wyatt had offered his family when he had appeared in the breakfast room was a stark contrast to the vaguely haunted look he had been wearing for most of the week.
Had something happened between them last night?
Oh, she hoped so with every inch of her being. Yes, she had succeeded in securing their marriage, but she knew getting them to share a bed and produce the heir Wyatt needed wasanother matter entirely. One that neither of them had seemed particularly keen to do. For reasons, Sandra was utterly unable to fathom. The two were clearly attracted to each other, any fool could see that. Why were they so reluctant to share a bed? Fear? Stubbornness? A need to keep up appearances? Whatever it was, Sandra had had quite enough of it.
But this morning, Wyatt was definitely sitting a little straighter in his chair.
“I do hope you both slept well,” she said, bestowing a wide smile on them that she knew was anything but subtle. Subtlety, she felt, was wildly overrated.
“I slept well, thank you, Your Grace,” Gemma said in a half-voice. She toyed with her eggs, deliberate in not looking her husband's way.
Very interesting…
Sandra had been optimistic when she had finally gotten Wyatt and Gemma to talk in the garden yesterday. While she and Pippa had thrown the stick for the dogs, she had been unable to resist a few glances in the young couple's direction. And she had been somewhat pleased with what she had seen.
Certainly, she had seen few outward displays of affection, but it seemed as if Gemma had at least allowed her husband to say his piece. And if Sandra was not mistaken, she had even allowed him to hold her hand. And when it came to this marriage, that felt like the victory to end all victories.
“And what of you, Wyatt, dear?” Martha spoke up over her teacup, her words syrupy sweet. “Did you sleep well? Once you returned from your evening out with Lord Anderson?”
Wyatt darted a fleeting glance at Gemma, who did a stellar job of not reacting to his mother's jibe. Sandra smiled to herself. The girl was learning. And not a moment too soon.
“I slept fine, Mother. The night was most uneventful.”
Sandra caught the tiny smile flicker in the corner of his mouth.The liar!She knew it.Uneventful night, my foot!
She sat back in her chair and sipped her tea, with no small amount of satisfaction.
“Gemma.” She whirled around at the sound of her husband's voice. He jogged out of the breakfast room to catch up with her on the stairs. When he reached her side, he hesitated for a moment, lips parted, as though his words had died on his tongue.
“Are you well?” he asked finally, his words slightly stilted, as though he had not been ravishing every inch of her body last night.
Gemma gave him a slight smile, amused at his sudden formality. “Yes. I am well. Thank you for asking.”
“Good.” He clasped his hands behind his back. “I just wanted to say… I, uh, I am sorry if it was wrong of me not to return to you last night. After… Well…”
Gemma raised her eyebrows. She had never seen him so tongue-tied before. She shook her head. “Do not apologize. It was the right thing to do. You know that, I am sure.”
Wyatt straightened. “Yes. Right. Of course.”
“And you put the book back? Right where I told you to put it?”
A smile played at the edge of his lips. “Top shelf. Right besideRobinson Crusoe.”
For a moment, Gemma's mind flickered back to the events that had taken place in the library. To the sound of Wyatt's deep voice reading the words on the pages of that forbidden book. Of the huskiness in his words as he had stepped close to her.“Is this what you think about, Gemma? Is that what you want me to do to you?”She felt her cheeks heat.
“I have a lot of work to do today,” said Wyatt, sounding faintly apologetic. “I shall be up in my office for most of the day.”
