When a Rogue Meets His Match - Elizabeth Hoyt Page 0,85
you nor I know how to cook.”
“Tush! I’m quite fond of lemon curd pies. I’m sure we could live on those alone.”
A weak laugh burst from Messalina’s throat. “As long as I have you and you have me, we’ll always get along.”
But in her heart she knew. She wanted Gideon as well. A man to hold her at night. To smile at her tenderly. To argue with her over the dinner table. A man who would love her for herself.
But that would never be, would it? She’d been a fool to ever forget that Gideon had married her for her name and money. Nothing else.
And now? She sighed wearily as Lucretia pulled off her panniers. Now she had to make plans to flee the country, hoping that Gideon would not renege on their bargain and would give her the dowry money.
She didn’t know if she could trust him even in that.
Lucretia pulled a fresh chemise over Messalina’s head, the crisp folds settling around her body. She’d been dressed like a doll by her sister.
Messalina turned to Lucretia and took her hands. “Thank you.”
Lucretia kissed her cheek and pulled her to the bed. “It’s just like when we were girls, isn’t it?”
“I suppose it is,” Messalina said, trying to force a cheerful note into her voice. She very much feared that she failed utterly.
She climbed into the big bed and pulled the coverlet to her chin. She stared up at the ceiling as Lucretia blew out the candle. There was a rustling and the bed shook once or twice and then Lucretia lay still.
“Good night,” Messalina said.
“G’night,” Lucretia whispered.
Lucretia started making that purring sound, almost like but not quite a snore, only minutes later.
But it took hours for Messalina to sleep.
Chapter Fourteen
That night the fox brought home a freshly caught hare. Bet cooked it over an open fire in the clearing and they dined on roasted hare, blackberries, and hazelnuts. Then the fox stood on his hind legs, yawned, and turned into a long, lean, red-haired man.…
—From Bet and the Fox
Nearly a week later, Gideon met his wife coming up the Whispers House staircase while he was descending it.
They both paused, he on the higher step.
“Good afternoon,” she murmured, her gaze averted from his.
Gideon wished he could reply as stonily. That he didn’t yearn for her acknowledgment. He should simply walk past her without a word.
Except he couldn’t. “How are you?”
Her glossy hair was neatly and elegantly dressed, her frock a becoming shade of forest green, but there were shadows beneath the eyes that wouldn’t meet his. If only she’d consent to talk with him. There must be words that would stop this freezing alienation. That would make her smile at him again.
He hadn’t found the words before, a small, mocking voice reminded him, but he shoved it aside. He wasn’t giving up. She was his wife, his lover, his woman—even if she denied it now.
“I am well,” she replied coldly.
He took a breath. “I’ll see you at supper.”
There was desperation in his voice, and he couldn’t hide it.
“Of course,” she said, then nodded as if he were an acquaintance on the street—an acquaintance she didn’t particularly like—and continued up the stairs.
Bloody, bloody hell.
Gideon ran the rest of the way down the stairs as if fleeing all his troubles. Perhaps at supper she would talk to him. If not, it would be his last chance of the day. She hadn’t returned to his bedroom since the night of the ball.
“Guv,” Keys greeted him warily as Gideon reached the entryway.
“What have you got?” Gideon asked as he strode to the door.
He’d set Keys to shadowing Julian Greycourt to find out as much as he could about the man’s movements and habits. Knowledge was, after all, power, and Gideon intended to be in a position of power the next time he met Greycourt.
Keys hurried to catch up, reporting breathlessly as they descended the front steps. “I caught wind of some information. Greycourt might be meeting a gentleman.”
“Where?” Gideon growled.
“Opal’s.”
Gideon’s eyebrows shot up as they strode down the street. Opal’s was a notorious coffeehouse frequented by the dregs of the aristocracy—ruined clergymen, shady bankers, and the odd thief. “Never thought Greycourt would patronize such a place.”
“Aye, well, that’s probably the point, isn’t it?” Keys replied with damnable cheeriness. “Wouldn’t nobody think to find ’im there. ’E can meet ’ooever ’e pleases without anyone the wiser.”
Gideon shot a sharp glance at the man. “And you’re sure of this?”