Page 44 of Not his Marchioness
“It appears that way. In any case, I felt a pull to his work, and here I am.” Charlotte shrugged. “As for any question regarding my interest in reading, where it pertains to my reputation, no one knows what I read in the privacy of our home. And even if they did, I am no longer a damsel in distress, but a marchioness. Surely that grants me some latitude in my reading material?” She lifted her chin. “Besides, you mentioned your reputation. Surely my husband’s reputation reflects more on me than my reading habits.”
“Ah, yes, my reputation.” Rhys smirked. “Tell me, wife of mine, exactly what you had heard about me before we were wed.”
The sound of the word ‘wife’ on his lips sent an unexpected shiver through her. It felt peculiar being someone’s wife, and yet oddly freeing. No longer was she her father’s daughter, his property.
Legally, she was Rhys’s, but he’d offered her more freedom than her father ever would have. True, he seemed to find much of what she had wanted to do amusing, but he had not stood in her way so far.
“That you’re a rake. A gambler. That you care for nothing beyond your own pleasure and have left a trail of broken hearts across London. And that you are familiar with the lightskirts in the rookeries.”
“All quite accurate,” he confirmed with that infuriating, self-deprecating smile.
“Also, that they like you. The ladies of ill repute. Not just your money, but also your company.”
At that, he flinched.
It wasn’t much, and if she hadn’t paid such close attention, she might not have noticed it, but he did flinch.
“Well, I am rather handsome, and I am generous with my purse,” he muttered, looking away.
He fidgeted with his fingers for a moment, before pulling back his arms, rising from the chair, and crossing the room.
What had she said? What had unsettled him?
He walked along the shelves, his fingers stroking along the spines of the assorted tomes, and then stopped.
“So, I take it you read Byron to give yourself a thrill, to think yourself rebellious?”
The twinkle in his eyes was back, though she wondered why he’d steered the conversation back to Byron.
She crossed her arms. “I do think I am rebellious. Or have you forgotten how we met?”
He snorted. “Your performance at Lady Swanson’s soirée was bold, I will give you that. Whether it was rebellious, I do not know. Reckless, certainly.”
A fire sparked within her again. He was crossing a line from playfully mischievous to unkind. Suddenly, she recalled why she’d wanted to keep her distance from him.
“Reckless and rebellious go hand in hand,” she argued. “And the ton was sufficiently shocked.”
“Perhaps,” he said and walked past her.
She caught a whiff of his sandalwood cologne and shivered.
He picked up her book, which she’d placed down, and examined it. “I must say, ‘She walks in beauty’ is hardly shocking, Charlotte. If you truly wish to scandalize me with your reading, you’ll need to do far better than that.”
She lifted her chin, accepting his challenge. “Perhaps I was merely testing the waters, My Lord.”
“Now you have my attention. Pray, enlighten me.”
Charlotte surveyed the shelves around them with a critical eye, then turned back to him with a small smile. “You will have to excuse me. I must fetch a tome from my chambers.”
“Your chambers?” His eyebrows rose. “What are you looking for that cannot be found here?”
“I took it from the shelf to keep myself occupied a few days ago. I shall have to retrieve it now.” She moved toward the door, before pausing to look back at him.
Thunder boomed overhead as she made her way through the dimly lit corridors and back to her chamber.
What was she doing? This felt like a game, but one with stakes she didn’t fully understand. The light from the sconces flickered as she went, the lightning occasionally illuminating her.
Inside her chamber, she picked up the book she’d wanted to show her husband and hurried back to the library with a smirk on her lips.
