Chapter 25

Chapter

Twenty-Five

" A re you going out, my lord?" Genevieve asked Beckett as he strode past her bedroom door, heading toward the staircase.

He skidded to a stop and stared at her as if he'd forgotten she existed, which wasn't surprising. He'd done exactly that since their return from Gretna this fortnight week.

Ignored her.

Her courses had come, removing any hope she'd harbored of having a child. But now that they had passed, she was desperate to attend a ball as the new Countess Tyndall.

But she could not attend her first event without her husband. What would the ton think? Her family and friends? They would all assume that there was trouble already in the marriage, and they would not be wrong.

If he did not touch her soon, she may expire of need.

The man had bewitched her, made such exquisite love to her in Gretna, and then left her out to dry like the linens often hanging on the lines near the mews.

This would never do.

She was a duke's daughter. She wasn't the one to be left home to pretend she was the perfect wife and future mother. Not when her husband refused to be the ideal husband.

"Ah…yes. There's a card game at the club. I'll be seeing your brother and a few friends. I thought we'd make a night of it. It's been some time since I've enjoyed such a night."

She crossed her arms and frowned. "You went out last evening. How long could it have possibly been? Hours?" She paused. "Not to mention you've been out each night since we returned to town. If I were a betting woman, I would say you were purposefully avoiding me."

"I beg your pardon? What are you trying to express?"

"Well, I think I said it quite clearly enough. Are you scared of your wife? We've had our differences, but I thought we'd formed a truce in Scotland."

A muscle worked in his jaw, and his eyes widened before he started down the hall again. "No time for chatting. I must be off. Have a good evening, dearest."

"Tyndall?" She chased after him, catching him just before the top of the stairs. "Do not dismiss me. Have you lost your mind? This is no way a new wife ought to be treated. I should tell Papa that you're abandoning me."

He walked toward her and clasped her shoulders, a condescending smirk on his lips that she wanted to slap away. "Now, now, wife. Do not be a virago. It's just cards and some wine. Nothing more."

She narrowed her eyes on him. "I do not believe you, and if you think that I'm going to stay at home and be a good little woman for you, you can think again."

It was his turn to cross his arms and glare. "And what do you think you're going to do? Be unfaithful? Beget a bastard in your stomach? I think not."

She gasped, not quite believing he would be so cruel or say something so vile. "Of course not. I'm not some Covent Garden whore. But I do not like being made a fool, and you're making me look like one by not attending the first event together as we should, as society expects."

"You'll have to wait until tomorrow evening. The Sedgewick ball is then, and it'll be a good time to showcase our delightful marriage."

"Excuse me, what is with the derision in your tone? You're the one who whisked me off to Scotland and married me without a by your leave. I did not ask for you to do that. In fact, I'm certain my father would have protected me from Mr. Venzellons. Why do you not just admit that you like me more than you're willing to concede, and now you're running scared."

There, she had said what she had been thinking these past days.

She had been wondering why he'd avoided her at all costs. It had to be because he did not trust himself around her.

He lusted after her, an emotion she could work to her advantage. Who did not want to make their husbands lust after them? They were wet clay in a woman's hands if she held such control.

He would do what she wished. Instead of going out with his gentleman friends and pretending he was still a bachelor.

"We were barely friends before our marriage. What makes you think that I'm now obsessed with you?"

She stepped up against him and did not miss the darkening of his gaze or the emotion swirling in his blue eyes when she touched his chest, feathering her fingers over his superfine coat.

She wore nothing but her shift and dressing robe, having been determined to call it a night and remain in her room. His attention dipped to her lips, his mouth opening on a small intake of breath.

He swallowed as she settled her hand on his stomach and felt his corded muscles tighten under her palm.

Oh yes, the man wasn't indifferent, no matter how much he pretended to be.

"When you keep running away, going out every night without your wife, what else is left for me to think? You're scared of me, what I make you feel. While I do not pretend that it's love, you certainly want me. I can see it now, and I would wager that should I touch here," she slipped her hand over his falls and clasped his rigid manhood, taking a moment to stroke him, "yes, there, I rest my case. You remove yourself from this house so I do not tempt you." She laughed and moved away from him. "But I'm not going anywhere, so it'll only be a matter of time before you give up this attempt to remain as you were, and you'll come begging me to forgive you for your obstinance."

He frowned. "You're talking nonsense. That is not what is happening here at all. I'm merely going to Whites to play cards. You're imagining and creating a scenario that is not true."

She shrugged. "Go then, my lord. Enjoy your friends and your whores."

"There are no whores, wife."

Genevieve turned and started back to her room. "I'm certain there are none yet, but there will be. In time, when you've pushed me away too often that I no longer allow you entry into my life, you will seek comfort elsewhere, and then you will regret your choices. But it'll be too late."

"I will attend the Sedgewick ball with you tomorrow evening, and we shall debut our marriage then. This evening is not what you're assuming it is."

"Have a pleasant time at your club, my lord. I shall see you in the morning."

She entered her room and strode directly to her desk, quickly scribbling a note to Charlotte and Matilda. If Lord Tyndall thought to keep her under lock and key, he would think again. She would debut herself as the new Countess Tyndall and allow her husband to explain his absence himself. She was never anyone's fool, and certainly not Beckett's. He ought to be lucky she'd married him at all.

Scandal withstanding or not.