Craving nothing more than the solitude of her chamber, where she could privately nurse her battered spirits, she hastened down the corridor to her bedchamber.

“Ah, Lady Winters!”

She turned at the cheerful, masculine voice. Mr. Gresham approached in that loping saunter she had marked in all three of Adara’s gentlemen friends. As if they’d never once had to arrive anywhere at a designated time. As if the world forever waited on them.

“Aren’t you in a hurry,” he mused, his eyes large and dark, almost too pretty for a man. All of Adara’s friends possessed looks that far exceeded the charm of their personalities. Stylish and beautiful, the lot of them—and very aware of that fact.

She motioned lamely behind her. “To my chamber.”

“In the middle of the day?” Those dark eyes danced wickedly. “Ah.” He held up a hand, displaying an elegant palm as smooth and refined as any lady’s. “Say no more. You’re meeting your husband for a romantic tryst.” He pressed his palm over his chest as if his heart ached. “Ah, newlyweds.”

She blinked at his bold language, her cheeks burning. “No,” she replied, too stunned to consider her next words. “I don’t know where Spencer is.”

“No?” As if that information translated into an invitation, he stepped close. Too close. “Such a shame.” His gaze scanned her, insolently familiar. “May I be so bold to say—”

Could he possibly be any bolder? She shook her head no, but he continued to speak regardless.

“—if I had free access to such temptation as you, I would never leave your side.”

Shocked, she could not speak, could not think to move.

Then, his gaze dropped to her lips.

He couldn’t mean to . . .

She broke free of her astonishment and quickly jerked aside of his descending head, narrowly avoiding his lips.

Placing several feet between them, she held one finger aloft. “Stay away from me.”

He tsked. “Come now, don’t be a bore. Adara told me how neglected you’ve—”

“Adara!” she bit, her astonishment evaporating. “Did she put you up to this?”

He shrugged. “She thought you might be agreeable to . . .” His voice faded. He arched a brow eloquently.

“Well, I am not!”

He stepped back, both palms held out. “No need to take offense. You’re not ready yet. I can be patient.”

“You’ll have a long wait.”

“I doubt that.” His lip curled in an unattractive smirk. “You don’t know Adara like I do. She always gets her way in these things, and unfortunately she has set her sights on your husband, my dear.” His expression turned almost pitying. “Her charms can be exceedingly tempting. When you tire of the lonely nights, come and find me.”

Unable to stand the sight of his smug face, Evie whirled around and rushed to her room. She took great relish in slamming the door behind her. Leaning against it, she breathed deeply, outrage constricting her lungs.

Pushing off the door, she paced her chamber, a silent scream building deep in her lungs as her legs worked across the carpet, her swishing skirts an angry rush of whispers.

That settled it.

She would find Spencer at once and consummate this marriage—give him no reason to look to another woman for his needs.

Hopefully, she was not too late and he did not already regret marrying her. A painful lump rose in her throat at the thought. Determination burned through her hotter than any hurt she might feel. She would not languish in the neglect of her husband, suffering the insolence of his guests as she fought to deny her desire.

It was high time she became a wife.

Chapter 19

Evie entered the dining room that evening with both dread and determination tightening her chest. She wore her best dress. Again. The faded blue muslin looked a rag compared to the other ladies’ vibrant silks. She shoved the thought from her head and reminded herself that she was the lady of the house. No matter how Adara sought to undermine her.

While she did not relish an evening with Adara and her houseguests, she knew Spencer would be present, and she longed to set matters right with him. As soon as dinner ended, she would pull him aside and request a private audience.

As it turned out, disappointment was the first course. Spencer’s seat loomed empty at the head of the table for the entire meal. Mr. Gresham sat to her immediate right, his arm brushing hers far too frequently throughout their meal. The dinner was a tiresome affair, full of laughter and gossip about people she did not know. She begged off charades in the drawing room and excused herself as soon as dessert was finished.

She had nearly escaped when the melodic sound of Adara’s voice froze her at the base of the stairs. “Are you unwell, Evelyn?”

With a deep breath she turned and faced Adara, a brittle smile pasted to her face. “Nothing of which to concern yourself. I’m afraid dinner did not set well with me.” A menu that Adara had been audacious enough to dictate. Evie had yet to beat her to Cook in the mornings.

“Oh, I hope it wasn’t the sole.” Adara pursed her lips in seeming concern. “I instructed Cook to make certain it was fresh.” The ring of sympathy in her voice did not accord with the dark glitter of her gaze. “When I see Spencer this evening, shall I tell him you’re not feeling well, then?”

An icy chill chased over Evie’s flesh; she did not mistake Adara’s intimation. True or not, Adara wanted Evie to believe she would see Spencer first . . . that she saw him frequently. Unlike Evie, who could not catch a moment alone with him.

“If you wish.” Unwilling to engage with the viper before her, she lifted her skirts and started up the stairs again, then stopped, unable to hide her claws after all. “Or I can tell him myself when I see him tonight. He usually wakes me when he gets in.” A lie, but one which pride demanded. Let Adara think that however much he absented himself from her side during the day, her nights were filled with him.

Adara’s face broke out in angry red splotches.

Satisfaction curled through Evie at the sight. And yet it failed to last.

Adara smiled slowly, catlike and knowing. “Indeed. How very . . . diligent of Spencer. He does know his duty. Never a chore left undone.”

The words struck Evie as effectively as any well-aimed arrow. He’d married her for duty. For heirs. Nothing more. Adara knew that. Everyone knew it. And why not? It was the truth.

Did she really think offering herself like a roast goose on a platter would validate their half marriage? Turn it into something real and abiding?

She didn’t even bother ringing for the maid when she reached her bedchamber. Furious and feeling a fool for even thinking seduction would win her Spencer, she undressed herself and slipped her nightrail over her head. As she sank down onto the stool at her vanity, she freed the pins from her hair and shook the gold-brown mass loose.

After vigorously brushing her hair, she paced her room, the soft hem of her nightrail sweeping her ankles. After awhile she stopped and added coals to the grate, appreciating the added warmth, not to mention the added glow of light. It wouldn’t do to wake to a darkened room. That was still one aspect of her life she could control. One fear she could fight.

Finished with that task, she sank down onto the chaise, plucking up her book where she had discarded it earlier. Occasionally, a loud burst of raucous laughter carried from downstairs. Apparently the game of charades was still in full swing.

Time crawled as she strained to hear any sound next door. When she realized she’d stared, unseeing, at the same page for well over half an hour, she dropped the book and resumed pacing.

Then she heard it. A slight noise, nearly imperceptible from next door.

Nerves tight as a string, she strode forward and knocked briskly. Inhaling a single deep breath, she opened the door and marched inside.

Spencer stilled for a moment in the armchair where he sat, his green eyes locking with hers. Heat flushed her face at the sight of him, shirtless. The view brought her up hard. Her gaze devoured the broad expanse of chest, the flat belly ridged with muscle. Something tightened in her belly. Perhaps she should have waited for him to bid her enter. Although she doubted he would have adopted modesty and covered himself.

A boot thudded to the floor from his lax fingers. She blinked.

“Yes?” He dropped back against the chair, his expression coldly unaffected.

“I need to speak with you.”

Sighing, he dragged his hand through his hair, rumpling the dark locks. “It’s late, Evie.”

“I’m not aware of any other time where we may speak privately. For days you’ve avoided me.” Her hands tightened into fists, the nails digging into her tender palms. “We’ll talk now.”

His eyes glittered darkly in the shadowed room before returning his attention to his other boot, dismissing her. “I don’t think that’s a very good idea.”

She charged forward, stopping before his chair. “Why not?”

“I simply don’t,” he announced, his voice tight, strained. His gaze lifted, skimmed her before glancing around the room, almost as if seeing it for the first time. “We’ll do this in the morning. In my study—”

“Why can’t we do this now?” She inhaled thickly. “Do you have a more pressing engagement?” she demanded, Adara not far from her thoughts.

He unfolded his great length and towered over her, his jaw clenched tight. “Don’t push me, Evie. I’m in no mood.”

He could not have tossed down a more tempting gauntlet.

She arched her brow and brought her hand to his chest, palm flat, and pushed.

He snatched hold of her wrist, squeezing the bones until she felt certain they would snap. She didn’t flinch, didn’t back down a step. Even as the heat in his gaze scalded her.

She had initiated this. She would hold her ground.

“What do you want from me?” he growled, thrusting his face close. “Must you plague me?”

She shook her head. Moistening her lips, she asked in a quiet voice, “Do you really hate me so much?”

He jerked as though struck. His hand loosened around her wrist. She stepped back.

“Hate you? Is that what you think?” he asked.

She rubbed her tender wrist. “What else should I think? You’ve avoided me for days. Ever since we returned here. Ever since Adara—”

“Adara?” He shook his head. “What does she have to do with anything?”

Did he mock her? She pressed her fingertips to her temples, digging deep against the sudden ache starting there. “It’s all gone horribly awry, hasn’t it? A marriage of convenience.” She snorted, the sound ugly. “It was supposed to be a simple matter, but this is anything but.” She flung a hand in the air. “We thought we could exist as polite strangers, without the other ever affecting—”

“I never thought that. You did,” he growled.

“Oh, no? You merely want me about for a few months, until we conceive your heir—”

“Hardly a possibility when you won’t fulfill that particular duty!”

“Duty,” she snapped. “Furthering your line. Is that all you think about?”

His nostrils flared. “When it comes to you, I think about a great deal more than that.”

“Indeed? And when is that? When you’re avoiding me?” Her hand flew wildly on the air. “Attending to countless beyond important tasks—”

“Evie,” he snapped, his head cocking at a dangerous angle.

Still she continued, could not stop herself, unaccountably hurt. Had she thought to seduce him and risk exposure so that she might know desire? So that she might taste passion at last? With him?

Adara’s face flashed across her mind. Never a chore left undone. Bedding her was no more than a chore for him. She stared hard at his angry face. Perhaps a chore he could no longer bring himself to pursue.