Her kisses hinted that perhaps she’d changed her mind. They had certainly changed his.
But they’d lost the opportunity for a long trip to anywhere private. However, a break in Parliament’s schedule and a traveling coach could be a decent substitute.
“We should visit the country while Parliament is in recess,” he said, hoping he sounded decisive. She was no longer in the throes of passion and might have changed her mind. “Just the two of us.”
“I would like that,” she said in a whisper. After a moment, she straightened her spine. “We could do our audit while we’re there.” Her businesslike tone made him smile. “And visit with the tenants and—”
He put his finger on her lips. “We can do anything.”
The dressing gong rang through the house. Annabel, her cheeks pink, stood. “I’ll make preparations for the end of the month.”
Two weeks? He was supposed to be under the same roof with her, sharing a wall but not touching her, for a fortnight?
Fuck privacy.
Her skirts swayed as she walked away from him. She didn’t need to know that he’d knock on her door tonight, did she? Honesty didn’t equal no surprises at all, did it?
She paused at the door. “Where’s your hat?”
“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.
