Page 59 of Secrets of the Marriage Bed
He took a deep breath. ‘Quite the opposite.’
His dark tone did not encourage her to ask for elaboration.
He finished his tea and placed the cup and saucer on the tray. ‘I have some correspondence to finish. I will escort you upstairs.’
In other words he was tired of her company.
She finished her tea and he helped her to rise.
Always so gentlemanly, so observant of the rules of polite society, but there was no warmth in it. In him.
Most of the time. Yet on occasion he’d let her glimpse the seductive man she’d been attracted to that first night. And then there was the man he’d been with Miss Digby. Boyishly enchanting. But which was the real Alistair? The man was as elusive as a drop of quicksilver.
Was he someone who could put laudanum in an unwanted wife’s tea? The only thing stopping her from fleeing was the recollection of him being ready to pour himself a cup of the tea that afternoon. If he had been responsible, surely he would not have done so.
Unless he was really, really clever.
They walked up the stairs, she with her hand on his arm, he with his gaze set firmly ahead. He stopped when he reached her chamber door and gazed into her face with a questioning look.
Air that a moment before had been cool crackled with tension. The line of his lips softened to sensual as he gazed at her mouth.
Her heart picked up speed and her breath shortened as if there was not enough air left to breath. His eyes widened a fraction. Awareness sparked between them. Despite all of her doubts, she found him wildly attractive.
‘Would you care to come in?’ She sounded breathless. Hopeful. Pathetic.
And to her great chagrin, fearful.
He opened the door to the bedroom, gazed down at her for a moment and then straightened his shoulders as if coming to a decision. ‘It has been a long day and it will be a longer one tomorrow. I would not have you overtax your strength. I will see you in the morning for breakfast.’
He ushered her in and walked away.
* * *
The smile on Alistair’s face when he greeted her at the breakfast table gave Julia a warm feeling in the region of her heart. The expression on his face was sweet and even a little bashful. He actually seemed pleased to see her.
‘How are you feeling today?’ he asked as she took her plate to the table and he seated her. So gentlemanly.
‘I feel quite myself again, thank you. Is our visit to Beauworth to continue as planned?’
He cast her a brief searching look as if assuring himself she had spoken the truth about her state of health. As if he didn’t trust her to know. Or didn’t trust her to tell him the truth. The hard line of his mouth softened. ‘The weather looks to be holding fair. Do you still prefer to ride?’
‘I do.’ Knowing now what it was that was making her ill, she really did have a choice. The carriage would not upset her, but riding was a pleasure and a privilege she had been denied for years. Fortunately the rain of the day before had swept away as quickly as it arrived.
‘Then I will see you at two. I have quite a bit of paperwork to get through before we go.’ He got up and left, taking his newspaper with him.
She frowned at his half-full plate. Was it her putting him off his food? Did he perhaps suspect her of colluding with his stepmother because she had failed to tell him about the visit?
She lifted the lid of his teapot and inhaled. Oolong. She lifted the lid of her teapot. Laudanum. Her blood ran cold. A very real urge to run left her feeling breathless and her heart pounding.
A footman stepped forward. ‘Shall I pour for you, Your Grace?’
‘Thank you, no.’ What on earth was she to do? Trust Alistair and tell him, or keep her own counsel until she uncovered the culprit? The latter was the wisest course, even though her heart told her he ought to know—if she believed he was innocent. Somehow the day no longer looked quite so bright.
* * *
To keep her mind busy with something other than fretting, she spent the morning inspecting the linens with the housekeeper. At the midday meal, Alistair did not join her and she drank only water.
At two, they met at the stables, he coming from the steward’s office where according to Grindle he had been sequestered all morning and she from the house. He gave her one of his searching looks before they mounted up. ‘Everything all right?’
