Page 35 of A Whisper of Desire
“I’ve never had a husband before,” she promptly replied.
As he laid her on the bed and drew up the covers, he added, “I imagine other men are quite envious of my good luck in securing your hand in marriage.”
As he made to leave she grabbed his hand. “It’s not only the plan I wish to discuss. I want to hear about Priscilla.”
—
“There is nothing to tell.”
Marisa’s heart hit her stomach. His demeanor changed the minute he heard her say Priscilla’s name. Her courage deserted her. “As you say it’s late. We shall talk tomorrow.”
He stood looking down on her, his jaw taut.
“Sometimes stories are not ours to share.”
With that cryptic comment, he slipped from the room.
Marisa slowly rolled onto her back and began chewing her bottom lip. She welcomed the darkness because it gave her the feeling of invisibility. “Stories are not ours to share,” she muttered. “What the hell does that mean?”
The darkness also allowed her to pretend her cheeks were not bright red. Humiliated by his ability to resist her, she vowed it would be the last time she would approach him. If he wanted her in his bed, he would have to beg her. A woman did not have to chase her husband for pleasure.
Unless, and her muscles locked at the thought, he was in love with another woman or fancied—dare she say it?—a man.
He was hiding something; that was obvious. He desired her, the evidence was clearly visible under his robe, and yet he did not want her in his bed. She knew that men felt desire without love. Perhaps it was guilt keeping her at arm’s length, guilt because his heart belonged to another.
Love could grow between strangers. Beatrice and Sebastian were an example. It couldn’t grow if Maitland loved another.
She slapped her forehead. “I didn’t ask the right question before we married.” She’d been so focused on her broken heart she’d not thought to ask Maitland if there was anyone he loved. She’d only asked about a mistress.
She was a young lady used to men begging for her attention. In fact, Maitland had tried to seduce her before they woke up together in that room. He’d told her she would be perfect as his duchess at the ball earlier in the evening. Why? Why her?
Fury rifled through her. This relationship was beginning to reek like a decomposing body. There had to be a reason why Maitland rejected her tonight. A reason he was keeping his distance.
She hated to admit it, but it would appear he loved another. Now that the seed of his relationship with Priscilla had been planted, it was blooming inside her head.
No longer able to trust her judgment when it came to men and the lies they could spin, she would talk to Sebastian. Surely her brother would not lie. And he knew about Priscilla. Sebastian was about to mention her name tonight, then stopped.
God help both of them if they had kept Maitland’s love for Priscilla from her. If Sebastian had misled her or withheld information from her, she wasn’t sure she’d ever be able to forgive him.
A tear slid down her cheek. She hadn’t minded marrying a stranger because she thought Maitland kind and honorable. Stupidly, she’d assumed they might come to love each other. If he loved another, that was unlikely. Fear saw her snuggle deeper into the bed. A long and lonely life stretched before her.
Her brother had a lot to answer for and tomorrow she would insist on answers.
Chapter 10
Marisa awoke to the sound of Susan drawing the draperies. The sky revealed an overcast day, the grayness matching Marisa’s mood.
She hadn’t slept well, her innards in turmoil. She lay in bed and immediately started ticking off her mental list of questions to ask Maitland. She decided she would listen to his replies and then grill her brother. If the answers appeared similar, then she could be pretty sure they were telling her the truth.
“His Grace told me to let you sleep, and to wake you in time for your meeting in his study.”
“Maitland has already risen?”
“Mrs. Heyer told me he rises at the same time every morning, and breaks his fast at nine, no matter how late, or early, depending on how you look at it, he gets to bed.”
Marisa sat up and brushed her hair off her face. “He got up at nine?”Damn.“What time is it?”
“You have half an hour. I’ve brought you a tray with tea and sustenance.”
