Page 71 of Return of the Viscount
“And how do you know that?” Cecilia demanded.
“I hear things ...” she said innocently, then went back to humming.
Cecilia slipped behind the changing screen while the pages carried in the bathing tub and buckets of hot water. The bath felt soothing, and she tried not to think of anything, simply let Nell care for her.
Nell tsked over her bruised cheek. “Ye poor mite,” she murmured.
“I’m all right,” Cecilia said. “And I promise I’ll take things easy today.”
“Good, ye deserve to be pampered and petted.”
And then she chuckled, even as Cecilia felt her face heat with embarrassment. Her gaze kept returning to the dressing-room door, as if she expected Michael to burst back in, wearing the furious expression she’d only seen once, when Sir Bevis had attacked her during Oliver’s billiards party. She should be relieved, she told herself. She wanted to keep some distance between them, and the letter would certainly help. But Michael didn’t arrive, and soon she was dressed, with breakfast on its way. Dismissing the servants, she went through the dressing room, took a deep breath, and knocked on his door.
Chapter 17
When Michael returned to his bedroom, he stared at the envelope, seeing his mother’s slightly messy penmanship, and reluctantly smiled. Cecilia hadn’t informed him that she wished to contact his family—and he couldn’t be surprised. She’d been looking for any kind of buffer to keep between them—hell, even after the previous night, she wasstilldesperate to keep him away from her. There was nothing of proper manners about her letter to his mother and the way she’d gone about it.
Cecilia was afraid, and not just because someone wished her ill. She was afraid of their marriage, of the feelings that overwhelmed even him. There was a part of him that would give up anything for her, even what made him the man he was. And that wasn’t the way to keep his self-respect, or win hers.
She didn’t want to depend on him, but danger forced her to. And now they’d lain together. She must have been thrilled that his mother’s letter distracted him.
He wouldn’t be distracted for long. Ripping open the letter, he read the brief note, sighed, and rang the bell for one of his apprentice valets. As if they’d been waiting for his signal, the bath procession began. He studied the pages surreptitiously, but they completed their task with deference. What had he expected—that he might catch an evil grin?
When he was dressed, a knock sounded at the dressing-room door.
“Come in,” he called.
Cecilia opened the door, and if she felt at all guilty, her graceful movements didn’t betray any hesitation. She glided into the room, and although she was fully buttoned up to a high neckline, he could still recall her lush nakedness as she’d lain beneath him. He was hard in an instant, and it was difficult to collect his thoughts, to remember that he was waging a war for his future, and every small battle counted. Somehow, he would make her change her mind about India.
“I came to apologize.” She met his gaze forthrightly. “It was wrong of me to send the letter, but at the time, I felt my actions appropriate.”
“Because I could have been a suspect.”
“I truly knew you weren’t.” She pressed her lips together in a thin line.
“I accept your apology.”
She blinked in surprise, then with a nod, turned away as if to leave.
“And you feel no curiosity at all?” he called in bemusement.
She froze, then said over her shoulder, “Of course I feel curious, but I would never demand that you share a private letter.”
He could almost see the war within her, by her tight shoulders and her fisted hands. But her curiosity won out, and she turned back to regard him.
“Is your mother well?” she asked.
He nodded. “And eager to see us both. She and my brother expected to be leaving at dawn. I imagine they’ll arrive by luncheon today.”
Her eyes went wide. “Oh my! I’ll alert the servants, of course, but ... is their visit all right with you?”
“I love my family, and I’m eager to see them.”
She let out her breath, and he couldn’t help but be amused how on one hand she wanted to keep her distance, but on the other, she didn’t want to offend him. She was trying to be a good girl at all times, perhaps most especially since she’d done something last night that probably seemed wicked to her virginal self.
“But what you did not anticipate,” he continued ruefully, “is that I hadn’t told my family of our marriage.”
She blinked, then smiled faintly. “I cannot be surprised. We hadn’t even met, and perhaps you thought we might never be truly married.”
