Page 55 of The Mistletoe Countess
Blake stared at Frederick for a full five seconds. “I say, Freddie. What is it? Has she refused your advances?”
Heat climbed up Frederick’s neck at his friend’s almost cultic gift of observation. “Blake.”
“Is she unable to complete the task?”
“It’s nothing like that.” Frederick forced the words through clenched teeth. “She receives my somewhat chaste affections with…appreciation.”
“Chaste?” Blake folded his arms across his chest. “She’s yourwife!”
“A young, naive wife who has only known me for a little over two weeks, and married to me only one.”
“And who you underestimate a great deal, I believe.”
Frederick growled. “What on earth do you mean?”
“You know as well as I that naivete doesn’t mean disinterest.” His friend studied him in a most annoying way. “And with her proclivity for romance, I’d imagine she has a healthy dose of curiosity. You’ve held your emotions in check for so long, perhaps it’s time to give yourself as freely as she gives to you—as she likely needs you to do. Are you afraid she’ll break your heart like Celia? Is that why you’re waiting?”
“No.” His cousin’s words stung with a truth he hadn’t considered. Was he? Did that undercurrent of fear pause him from offering her his heart freely? He cleared his throat and offered a half glare. “I’m attempting to be a gentleman.”
Blake’s brows shot high. “Freddie, a gentleman is all well and good in society, but the last thing a woman needs in the bedroom is a husband who doesn’t know what he wants.”
“I know what I want.” His words sharpened.
“Then perhaps she wants the same thing.”
Frederick released a long sigh as they turned up the drive for home. “You need to get married, Blake.”
“No.” He frowned and shook his head. “It’s much less troublesome and more entertaining to criticize those who are already in the thick of it.” He patted the seat of the car. “And I can enjoy the way you’ve put your wife’s money to good use. A roadster is the car to have nowadays, I hear.”
“Since we lost the other car in the river and already have an outdated Touring, I thought we might as well purchase something more fashionable and reliable.”
“Lost the other carin the river?”Blake’s palm rose with one blond brow. “What on earth did Lady Astley do with your car?”
“It wasn’t Grace.” Frederick stifled a groan, wishing he hadn’t been so free with his words. It was already bad enough than an entire town watched the car accident unfold. The last thing he needed was another reason for Blake to worry. But there was no going back now. He proceeded to divulge the entire scene.
“Well, it was a good thing your lovely bride spent her childhood with servants and an eccentric grandfather, or you’d have been a chauffeur short.” Blake released a whistle, his lighthearted demeanor cloaking a mind filled with caution, if Freddie knew his friend aright. “And what of the car? Did you discover the reason for the malfunction?”
Frederick kept his gaze forward as the spires of Havensbrooke came into view. “Patton and I met with the new mechanic this morning before fetching you from the station. His thoughts after examining the car were inconclusive. He noted possible evidence of tampering, but due to damage from the accident and the age of the car, it was difficult to ascertain a cause with certainty.” He locked gazes with his cousin. “So it’s all likely nothing but an accident.”
“Of course it is.”
“Blake.”
“I wonder what your curious little wife will think of these inconclusive findings.”
“I’d rather not worry her, especially with her generous imagination.” The roadster slowed to a stop in front of Havensbrooke’s entry. “Besides, the authorities will continue the investigation, and once they come to a definitive conclusion, I will share it with her.”
Blake groaned and shook his head. “Freddie, it is preferable to keep information from other people’s wives, but keeping secrets from one’s own wife is being bound for destruction. She inevitably finds out.”
Frederick stepped from the car, soaking in Blake’s warning. Of course the man was right. With Grace’s rabid curiosity, she’d likely find out before he had a chance to tell her anyway.
As they entered the house, Grace greeted them on the way to the dining room, wearing a deep burgundy evening dress with some sort of black lace overlay and looking every bit the part of the lady of the house.
It was rather nice to come home to such a sight, though his bride’s smile did not reach her eyes and her walk remained as stiff as a tree. Frederick’s heart squeezed in response. What had happened?
“It’s a pleasure to see you again, Mr. Blake.”
Grace offered her hand, her posture the very picture of elegance. Ah, she’d been practicing. His grin paused. Yet something about her rehearsed movements turned his stomach. Where was the glimmer in those eyes? His gaze shot to Blake. Was the old chap right? Had he been holding out his most intimate affections to guard his heart? Had he neglected something she needed most to give her something he thought she needed more?
