that the lady of the house was worth two dukes.
Adam glared back at him. ‘Jem, isn’t it?’
‘Yes, your Grace.’ And another bow.
Damn the man. Adam fished in his pocket and came up with a handful of banknotes and forced them into the servant’s hand. ‘I have an errand for you. Go to the bookseller’s. And buy my wife that damned copy of Homer.’
Chapter Nine
In the two years they had been together, Adam’s mistress, Felicity, had been a most accommodating and entertaining companion. But now, as he looked at her, he could not seem to remember why. She was beautiful, of course. There was little reason to have her otherwise. While she might not be the most enchanting conversationalist, he employed her to listen, not to talk. And so it mattered little.
She greeted him as she always had, with a passionate kiss. Her perfect hands reached out to stroke him and to smooth his brow.
And to search his pockets, as well. ‘What did you being me, Adam?’ Her smile was as satisfied as a cat’s.
He smiled back. ‘And why must I have brought you anything?’ Although, of course, he had.
‘Because you always do, my darling. I have come to expect it. And there is the little matter of your recent marriage.’ She experimented with a pout, but her heart was not in it. ‘You could at least have told me your plans. Even though it does not change what we share, it is not pleasant to be surprised when reading The Times.’
He nodded. ‘I am sorry. I never intended for my situation to change so suddenly, or I would have forewarned you.’
She nodded. ‘It was love at first sight, then.’ Clearly, she did not believe it any more than he did, but it was sweet of her to give him the benefit of the doubt.
‘Rather. Yes.’
‘Then, let us celebrate.’ She kissed him again with an ardour guaranteed to arouse.
But the irony of the situation washed over him, and it was as though he were watching the kiss from a distance, rather than being an active participant in it. To be celebrating one’s wedding in the arms of a Cyprian was probably sin enough for God to strike him dead on the spot. When their lips parted, he laid his against her ear and murmured, ‘Then you no longer wish to see your gift?’
‘I wish to see it, if you wish to show it to me,’ she said, the most co-operative woman in his life.
He guided her fingers to the breast pocket of his jacket, to the package he had purchased on the way to her flat.
She was immediately distracted and withdrew the bracelet from the jewel box in his pocket. ‘Adam, it is magnificent. The size of the diamonds. And the clarity.’ She examined it with the eye of a professional. ‘Th-thank you. It is quite the nicest thing you have ever brought me.’
He must have chosen well, if he had made a whore stammer. ‘I am glad you appreciate it.’
For it cost me more than all your other gifts put together. Now that I can borrow from my wife’s purse, money does not matter. And she will not care that I am here, for I have bought her a book. The truth sickened him, even as he thought it. And again, it was as though he was viewing the scene from a distance.
His mind might be shamed by what he had done, but his body cared not, and awaited the reward forthcoming after a gift.
And his mouth agreed with neither of them. As though he had no control over it, it announced, ‘Yes. Of course. I thought, under the circumstances, an extra expenditure was called for. For you see …’
And his mouth proceeded, unbidden, to explain that now that he was married, their relationship had indeed changed. Since it was unlikely that he would be able to spend much time in her presence, it was hardly fair to keep her. The lavish gift was meant as a parting token. The apartment would be available for her use until such time …
His body howled in disappointment, and called him all kinds of fool, but still the words would not stop. And with each one, his conscience felt lighter.
His mistress was taking the whole thing annoyingly well.
She shrugged. ‘I suspected as much. When a man gets it into his head to marry, his priorities change. And we have been together for quite some time, have we not?’
He started. She sounded bored with his attentions. The fact that she bored him as well was small consolation.
‘And you have always been most considerate of me, and very generous of spirit. Should you need similar companionship in the future, I would not hesitate to recommend you as a protector.’
It sounded almost as if she was giving him references. ‘And I, you.’ He stuttered. ‘Recommend, I mean. Should you need …’
He returned to his townhouse, numb with shock. The day was not turning out as planned. His old friends annoyed him. He’d just denied himself an afternoon of pleasure for no logical reason. And he still had no idea how to deal with his new wife. He returned home, because he could think of nowhere else to go. There was no joy in lunching alone, but his clubs would be too full of people, asking questions he did not desire to answer. At least in his own house he could have the consolation of solitude.
He was over the threshold before he remembered that he no longer lived alone. He had handed his hat and stick to the servant, and was halfway down the hall when he heard the rattle of tea things from the sitting room. Her door was open.
Too late, then, to take back his hat and back out of the door. Perhaps she would not notice if he quietly went to his rooms.
And then his wife peered into the hall. ‘I was just sitting down to tea. Would you care to join me?’
‘Thank you.’ Once again, his mouth had said something that came as a surprise to him.
‘I will have the butler bring another cup. You look in need of refreshment. Come. Sit down.’ And she graciously welcomed him to sit in his own home.
Her home as well, he reminded himself. She had every right to be taking tea in the room he had promised was solely for her use. And she was performing her duty as wife to see that he was provided with his. What right did he have to complain?
He sat down on the sofa next to her and waited in silence, while she pulled a tiny table closer to him and prepared his cup as she’d seen him take it. ‘Biscuit?’
He stared at the unfamiliar thing in front of him.
She responded without his asking, ‘I am accustomed to take sweets in the afternoon. These are a favourite of mine. I find the lemon zest in them most refreshing, so I have given the recipe to Cook. But if you would prefer something more substantial …’
‘No. This is fine. Thank you.’
She was staring at him now. And he raised his eyes from his cup, to stare back at her.
‘I am sorry for suggesting it,’ she remarked, ‘but is something the matter? You seem rather out of sorts.’
‘What
