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His mother winked at him and Alistair had to fight to keep from blanching.

Ye ken what’s worse than thinking of yer mother and idiot footman snogging in the back hallway? Having to listen to yer mother talk about how she used to dress up as a chambermaid and allow yer father to catch her.

Best to get out of here before such a thing could happen.

He managed a jerky sort of nod. “Mother.”

As always, her expression softened at the sound of her name on his lips, and he used her distraction to turn on his heel.

Olivia said nothing else until he slammed the door to his chamber behind them. He’d just finished easing her to her feet, as gently as he could manage, when she crossed her arms and huffed.

“Now may I speak?”

He didn’t answer, but began tugging at his tie, jerking it free.

She reached up and began to unpin her hat. “I think this entire evening requires a discussion and an apology.”

The tie landed in one of the chairs and he raised a brow as he shrugged out of the old coat.

“Yes, I shouldn’t have gone to that tavern.” Her braid slithered free of its bindings, and she tossed the dirty shawl aside. At least the fool woman had thought to dress in simple clothing. “But I had good reason!”

Aye, he knew her good reason. Anger flared again and Alistair stepped closer, his fingers on his waistcoat. “Ye dinnae…trust me.”

It wasn’t a question.

But surprise flared in her eyes a moment before Olivia glanced down, her hand going to the buttons of her simple blouse. “I do trust you,” she insisted quietly.

“Nay.” This close he could smell her—soap and the apples she often paired with camembert.

Olivia swallowed, but didn’t look up. “I do trust you, I just…”

He seemed to have frozen, staring at the skin at the base of her throat, revealed as her blouse gaped open, his anger still pounding in his temples.

“Alistair.” It was all she said.

Suddenly desperate, he yanked off his waistcoat and dug into the pocket of his trousers for the notebook he kept there. It was the cheap one she’d given him the day after their wedding, but the realization didn’t slow him down. If anything, it felt right.

The pages tore beneath his fingers as he flipped to a blank page.

HOW DARE YOU

She gasped. “How dare I? Alistair, you were the one who refused to answer my questions! I only went there tonight because I thought you weren’t taking this seriously.”

I am your husband. It is my duty to provide

Before he could finish writing, she’d snorted. “Provide me with poison to incapacitate a man? I’m fairly certain the vicar didn’t mention that in our vows, husband.”

With shaking hands, he jabbed the pencil against the first thing he’d written—HOW DARE YOU—and glared at her.

And she glared right back.

Olivia’s chin went up as she jabbed a finger into his chest. “How dare you not tell me your plan! I thought you’d forgotten about it, or didn’t know where to get belladonna. Well, I did, so I took it upon myself.”

Of course she did. Of course she did.

She wouldn’t be Olivia if she hadn’t.

Scowling, Alistair loomed closer, fighting the urge to back off and let her win this.