“The wind caught it while I was crossing the street, and a carriage trod it into the mud.”

After all, there was a fine line between honest and honest.

Chapter Fourteen

Annabel couldn’t stop watching her husband. Less than two hours ago, they’d been locked together on the floor of his office, their lips swollen, and their eyes glazed with passion. Now he was across the room, teasing his sisters and talking to his mother about his Uncle Edgar’s health.

We can do anything.

The growl in his voice, the spark in his eyes, had been full of a promise she didn’t quite understand, but she wanted to know. Dinner had only heightened her curiosity. Every time he savored his food or his wine, she felt his lips on her skin. His laughter was like his hands on her body, warming her until it was difficult to concentrate.

Which was why she had removed the same five stitches from her embroidery for the last half-hour. When she closed her eyes, she was back in his arms. When she opened them, he was staring at her like she was a rabbit, and he was a hound.

She was likely the only rabbit in Britain who hoped she was devoured. But was that wise, given her purpose in his house?

Was he a spy?

She’d found nothing to indicate it, and Jasper didn’t appear to be hiding anything from her. No door was locked, no question unanswered. He’d even given her free access to his finances and his correspondence.

No Society husband did that, did he?

Of course, he wouldn’t write his schemes in his ledgers, and he could have his private mail sent to his office at Parliament or to White’s. And if he wasn’t a spy, then he’d spent all last evening with another woman after promising, in church, to be faithful to her.

Most Society husbands did that.

But then again, she’d made promises, in church, while working as a spy. She’d turned their marriage contract into a negotiation to benefit her family, and she kept the door locked between their bedrooms. She’d even told him he could have a mistress.

With a disgusted snort, Annabel tossed the fabric aside.

“Are you all right, dearest?”

She met her husband’s gaze. Perhaps she should just ask him. Are you betraying your country for the love of a French widow I want you to reject for me?

Jasper would answer, but it would also open the door for him to ask her the same question, and Annabel wouldn’t be dishonest. Not the best trait for a spy, she knew, but she was a horrible liar. Her eyes always betrayed her.

He winked at her.

She didn’t want to tell him the truth tonight.

“I find myself out of sorts this evening.” She returned her embroidery to the basket at her feet and stood. “If you’ll excuse me.”

Barnes was already waiting for her upstairs, and Annabel wondered if they taught lady’s maids some sort of translocation spell.

Annabel watched herself in the mirror as propriety was removed layer by layer, leaving her naked for only a moment before her nightdress, made of cotton as fine as silk, floated over her head.

She didn’t want to be hidden her whole life, naked for only a moment and only when it was someone’s job or when she was alone. Never touched as Jasper had done this afternoon.

But what if—

Enough.

Barnes reached for her hairpins, and irritation shivered down Annabel’s spine. “Thank you, Barnes. I’ll finish from here.” She met the maid’s wide-eyed stare in the mirror. “It’s nothing. I’d just like to be alone.”

The older woman squeezed her shoulder, her smile full of pity. “I understand, my lady.”

The door closed and Annabel risked another look at her reflection, finding a woman who wanted to be anything but alone. Her eyes always gave her away.

She unpinned her hair and unwound her braids.

“You have never listened to anyone other than yourself,” she said to the woman in the mirror. “Your instincts have never betrayed you.” She’d known Chippenham was a cad the moment he touched her on the dance floor. In a sea of gossip full of silk-clad sharks, she’d found true and loyal friends. “What do you think of him?”

Jasper’s irreverence was contagious. She had laughed more since the house party than she had in months. It was freeing, like racing down the hill with her heart thudding in time to her horse’s hooves. She lacked for nothing, but she was also valued. He didn’t love her, but he acted as though he liked her. He certainly wanted her.

Her nipples drew tight against her nightdress. She definitely wanted him.

Was he dangerous? Yes, he was. He was intelligent, observant, and disarming. But, more than that, the pleasure he offered required her to reach for it, and she believed freedom waited on the other side of it. Finding that, only to lose it, would be devastating. Never reaching for it, however, would be tragic.

She smacked the brush to her dressing table, making the hairpins jump. “Your husband is not a traitor.”

The words soaked through her, and they felt right. True. They brought along an emotion that also felt true, one she didn’t dare acknowledge.

A breath of air fluttered the hem of her nightdress against her ankles. Annabel turned to find Jasper in the open doorway between their rooms, staring at his hand on the knob.

“How long has this been unlocked?”

“Since last night.” She rose from the chair on shaky knees and walked toward him at what she hoped was a normal pace.

“Annabel, I—”

She didn’t want to talk about last night. She didn’t want to know where he’d been or what he’d done. “Why did you try it?”

His blue dressing grown was tied at the waist, resulting in a vee that displayed dark gold hair swirling over the center of his chest. The hem stopped just above his feet. Seeing his bare toes made him seem as vulnerable as she felt. It made this easier.

“Wishful thinking, I suppose.” He took her hand and tugged her over the threshold.

Where her room was painted a color that reminded her of fresh cream, his was a blue as dark as the night sky. What wasn’t painted was covered by mahogany panels.

There were probably other differences. She knew there was other furniture because he guided her around it as he walked backward toward the bed. Where her drapes were trimmed with fringe, his had ribbon. Her sheets were edged with lace. His were plain and square.

“I like your room better than mine.”

“Change yours if you wish.”

He lowered his mouth to hers and kissed her until she was dizzy from it. The only thing anchoring her to the ground was his hand covering her breast as it had been in the library, as she’d wanted all through dinner.

“Do you have an idea of what to expect?” he asked before sweeping his tongue along her jaw to her ear.