Chapter Twelve

CHAPTER TWELVE

W hen Lucian arrived in the breakfast room the next morning, his wife wasn’t there. Was she still abed? Or was she purposely staying away? He guessed the latter. Clearly, she’d been angry last night after their encounter. She’d slammed the door hard enough to wake the dead. He’d ignored that. He had no intention of entertaining her moods. She would just have to learn that what he said was final.

But he couldn’t concentrate on reading the paper. A memory kept nagging at his mind. Her eyes in the candlelight last night. Those dark, expressive eyes had been easy to read. First, they’d been filled with worry, anxiety. Then annoyance. And then, for just a few fleeting moments, sadness. And finally anger.

But it was the sadness that stuck in his mind. She’d come to ask him why he hadn’t bedded her. A normal query for a new bride, perhaps. But they were anything but a normal couple.

Those few moments of sadness he’d seen haunted him. He shook his head to dispel the memory. He’d do well to remember that she was a good actress. Perhaps an excellent one. Hadn’t she acted the part of the innocent debutante the night she’d found him in her brother’s study?

She’d pretended as if encountering him had been nothing more than a lark, but her words had reverberated in his head every damn day since then. “ You heard him, Mary. Remember your promise. ” She and her friend had planned the entire thing. He could only guess what Mary’s “promise” had been. No doubt to bring her mother and the other matrons running in order to cause the exact scene that had ensued.

Yes. His wife was an actress. He wouldn’t be fooled. He needed to stay on his guard in her presence. He couldn’t trust anything she said or did. She simply hadn’t liked being dismissed last night. Frankly, he’d been surprised she’d had the temerity to come knocking on his door. But just because she didn’t like his answers didn’t mean he would change his mind. Gemma needed to learn that she would not be getting what she wanted out of this marriage. And the sooner she realized it, the better.

There was only one thing she’d said last night that gave him pause. The part about them not spending the night together for four nights. At first, he’d avoided her bed to make his point clear. But the more he thought on it, the more he realized he probably should bed her before sending her away to the countryside. After all, their marriage wouldn’t be legal until that deed was done. Unpleasant or no.

Of course, that might result in a child. The thought of using a French letter or pulling out occurred to him. But he found those choices distasteful. She was his wife, and if ever he declined to use protection, it should be with her. Perhaps he’d been wrong about it at first. Perhaps he should try to get her with child before sending her off. God knew he wouldn’t relish doing it again anytime soon.

Very well. He would get it over with. He would bed his wife. But he would also set the boundaries. Very clear ones. It would be a perfunctory act. Nothing more. With a woman as scheming as Gemma, he had to remain in control.