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He grinned. “Oh, but I think you will.”

“I think we shall agree to disagree on that point. Anyway, what I am trying to say is that we should make an effort to spend time together. You said that you were not at liberty to offer me a… awhitemarriage, but that is exactly what we are going to end up with if neitherof us is willing to swallow our pride.”

“You could swallow your pride,” he suggested.

Anna did not bother to respond. It seemed that hehadbeen listening, to an extent.

Shifting his weight, he pursed his lips, watching her intently. “Go on, then. What is your suggestion?”

She drew in a breath. “We spend one hour together every day. No less than an hour, and frankly, I can’t see either of us craving each other’s company for longer than that. One hour a day until we can tolerate each other, and then we get to work on making an heir.”

She took a step back, waiting for him to weigh up what she’d said. It was much easier to call it simplymaking an heir.An heir for Theodore, and a baby for her. A baby sibling for Kitty, too.That way, it felt like a business-like sort of thing, a contractual obligation rather thanthe actbetween men and women.

She felt her cheeks flushing again and cursed her fair skin. Anna was fairly sure that ladies weren’t meant to enjoy the act. The snippets of conversation she had heard on the subject seemed to imply that it was something to be endured rather than enjoyed, and her own mother had been resolutely silent on the matters of pleasure and pain.

It made the feelings welling up in the pit of her stomach a little confusing. Parts of her body seemed to believe the act was fascinating, and even something one might look forward to, but she suspected she was going to be disappointed. No, she would not think about it.

Think about the baby,she told herself firmly.The baby, and then he will leave you alone forever.

Why was that thought not as comforting as it should be?

“Very well,” Theodore said suddenly, jerking her out of her distinctly improper thoughts. “I agree. One hour together, each day. No less, but no more. Unless you ask for it, of course.”

“Excellent. Kitty may want to join us, and I see nothing wrong in that.”

Theodore’s eyebrows rose again, but he said nothing. There was a moment of silence between them, until he sighed, turning his back to stare up at the iron-gray sky.

“I’d say we’re in for more rain,” he remarked idly. “If I were you, my dear, I’d get back inside.”

“I will. And for the last time, I am notyour dear,” Anna threw this over her shoulder, before turning on her heel and hurrying back down the hill. She felt Theodore’s gaze burning into her back for most of the way.

CHAPTER 11

There were many gentlemen’s clubs in London, of course. Only a handful were respectable, and naturally, those handful were crammed full to the brim more often than not with every man who could claim to be a gentleman desperate to get a membership.

Theodore kept memberships to them all—White’s, Tattersall’s, and more—but his favorite remained Clara’s Heart. In the middle of the day, it was generally very quiet, and he could fully relax.

Stephen waited for him there, at their usual table, with two glasses of brandy waiting for them. He grinned wolfishly as Theodore approached.

“Aha, here is the man of the hour. Our blushing groom—the married man.”

“Enough with the jokes, Stephen. Marriage won’t change my life one jot.”

“You can think that if you like.”

“I do think that. Be quiet and drink your brandy.”

Stephen chuckled, a smooth, slightly unhinged laugh that was considered unseemly for a man and was often to be found echoing in a ballroom or a card room. Not that anyone would dare to mock Stephen for his unusual laugh. Not if they wished to remain whole and alive. It generally preceded something shocking, like the besmirching of a lady’s reputation or an act of violence. The Blackheart nickname had been well-earned.

“So very harsh,” Stephen sighed, taking a long sip of his drink. “Why do I feel as if your wedding night was less than satisfying?”

“That,” Theodore said brusquely, “is none of your business. Now, speaking of business, let’s get down to it. Have any of your informants found anything new to tell me?”

Stephen shook his head. “Not a word. Wherever your brother has gone, he has covered his tracks well.”

“He can’t have done. Henry is an airhead.”

“Are you sure? I always got the impression he was cleverer than he looked. Besides, Henry knows you well. He knowsmewell, and he knows you’ll be on his trail. This carelessness about yourown blood might fool the world in general, but Henry knows that you won’t simply let him disappear.”