Chapter 6

Six

T he carriage ride to his residence in St. James's Square had been silent, the air thick with unsaid words and potent emotions. When Nathaniel helped Cordelia from the carriage, she scarcely acknowledged him, pulling her hand from his the moment her feet hit the cobblestones.

Nathaniel felt a moment's remorse as he walked beside her to the house. He hated her for attempting to keep his child from him, but he also craved a true union—a happy family. He would have to let his animosity go. Somehow, he had to forgive her and win her heart.

"Welcome home, Lady Wolverton," he said, doing his best to sound pleased at the development.

Cordelia gave him a frosty glare but said nothing.

Nathaniel swallowed past the irritation rising within him and tried again. "The staff is awaiting our arrival in the entry hall. Perhaps once introductions are made, I can give you a tour?"

"I am certain the housekeeper would be better suited for the task," Cordelia said.

Nathaniel reached for her elbow, drawing her to a stop. He stepped around to face her and met her gaze. "I do not wish for us to be enemies. You are my wife now. Let us build on that."

"You forced me to marry you. I find no pleasure in that." She jerked her arm free.

"You are carrying my child. I did what had to be done. Perhaps someday you will come to terms with our union."

"I am not property to be sold and owned," Cordelia said, anger laced through her words.

Nathaniel shook his head. "I never said you were."

"And yet you have treated me like a possession—an inanimate object with no thoughts or feelings."

Nathaniel sighed. Clearly, he would not make any progress with her right now. Instead of arguing further, he simply said, "I am sorry you feel that way." He mounted the steps to his Georgian home, content to merely get her inside for the time being. Perhaps once Cordelia was settled, she would see things more clearly.

Nathaniel stood back and watched as Cordelia greeted each of their servants in kind. He marveled at the way she dispensed with her icy glare and angry demeanor the moment the butler opened the door. She was all elegance and pleasantries where the staff were concerned. But the moment her attention turned back to him, the frosty demeanor returned.

Nathaniel approached Cordelia, who had finished her introductions.

She peered at him, her lips pressed in to a tight line.

He fought the urge to put her over his knee and gave what he hoped was a warm smile.

"Now that you have been introduced, I will leave you in the capable hands of Mrs. Walters. She will show you the house and grounds. You are welcome to change anything you deem necessary." He forced a smile, then added. "I will look forward to discussing your ideas over dinner."

She dipped into a curtesy and said, "My Lord."

The pretend politeness irritated him, but he refused to let her see how she affected him. "My Lady." Nathaniel gave a firm nod, then turned away.

Several hours later, Nathaniel sat at the head of the mahogany dining table and sipped from a glass of red wine. He'd already sent the first course back to the kitchen and ordered his staff to await the Viscountesses' arrival. That had been twenty minutes ago.

He tapped his fingers on the side of his wineglass as he glanced at the clock. What the devil was keeping her? Immensely annoyed with the situation, Nathaniel waved a footman over.

"Sir?"

"Send someone to see what is keeping my wife," Nathaniel ordered.

"Yes, sir." The footman bowed, then backed away.

Nathaniel gulped the remaining wine from his glass, then refilled it as he waited. By the time the footman returned with news, Nathaniel was two glasses in. He did not wait for the footman to approach before asking, "Well?"

"Lady Wolverton requested her supper be brought to her room."

Nathaniel's blood boiled. He pushed his chair back and stood. "What reason did she give?" It had better be good, or he would drag her to the dining room.

The footman looked abashed as he replied, "She wished to dine alone, sir."

Furious at her rejection, Nathaniel stalked toward the hallway. "Send my dinner to the Viscountess's room," he said as he continued toward the stairs. He didn't give a damn what Cordelia wanted. She was his wife, and she would respect him.

Nathaniel pulled in a deep breath as he crested the stairs. As angry as he was, he did not want to fight with her. Doing so would serve no purpose—no worthwhile purpose at any rate. He had to keep himself calm in order to get through to her.

He would have to compromise and be patient. Perhaps if he approached her as an equal. Maybe if he attempted to understand her actions and assuage her fears, they could move on from this.

Nathaniel reached for her door and attempted to open it. Finding it locked, he tapped on the door panel.

"Who is it?" Cordelia called out from within the bedchamber.

"I came to dine with you. We need to talk."

"Go away. I've nothing to say to you."

His pulse sped, anger burning through him. The devil with civility! She was driving him mad, and he'd not tolerate anymore of her antics. Nathaniel backed up, then charged the door, ramming his shoulder into it. Cordelia shrieked as the wood splintered and the door swung open.

Nathaniel stared into her wide eyes, not the least bit remorseful for his actions. "I will not be kept from my wife's chamber."

"I will not be forced to bed you!" Cordelia screamed back.

Nathaniel chuckled, a deep, humorless laugh. "You think I wish to bed you?"

Cordelia moved to the far side of the room. "I will not be forced."

"You think too highly of yourself, madam," Nathaniel said. He sat at the small table opposite the hearth. "I've already sampled your wares."

Cordelia blushed furiously, her cheeks turning pink, then crimson. She reached for a candlestick. "How dare you," she threw the silver base at him. "Get out!"

Nathaniel ducked, avoiding her weapon. Then, as it crashed against the wall, he stood. In four long strides, he reached her. Grasping her by the shoulders, he peered into her blue eyes and said, "You are my wife, and you will act like it."

Desperate to shut her up and end their standoff, he crushed his lips to hers in a bruising kiss. She pressed her hands against his chest but parted her lips, her tongue darting out to meet his.

The little hypocrite.

Intent on kissing her senseless, he pulled her tight against him and adjusted the angle of his lips.

Nathaniel felt the moment Cordelia surrendered, and a sense of victory flooded him. She relaxed against him, her hungry lips greedily taking all that he offered. When a small moan reverberated through her, he broke the kiss.

He'd not come in here to seduce her. Though he would very much like to take her to bed, he had no desire to do so while they were angry. He stared at the now pliant Cordelia and gave a slight grin. "Perhaps tomorrow we can talk?"

She parted her lips as if she meant to say something, then pressed them together.

"I will see you at breakfast." Nathaniel bowed and left the room.