Page 27

Oh, she hoped so with every inch of her being.

Yes, she had succeeded in securing their marriage, but she knew getting them to share a bed and produce the heir Wyatt needed was another matter entirely.

One that neither of them had seemed particularly keen to do.

For reasons, Sandra was utterly unable to fathom.

The two were clearly attracted to each other, any fool could see that.

Why were they so reluctant to share a bed?

Fear? Stubbornness? A need to keep up appearances?

Whatever it was, Sandra had had quite enough of it.

But this morning, Wyatt was definitely sitting a little straighter in his chair.

“I do hope you both slept well,” she said, bestowing a wide smile on them that she knew was anything but subtle. Subtlety, she felt, was wildly overrated.

“I slept well, thank you, Your Grace,” Gemma said in a half-voice. She toyed with her eggs, deliberate in not looking her husband's way.

Very interesting…

Sandra had been optimistic when she had finally gotten Wyatt and Gemma to talk in the garden yesterday. While she and Pippa had thrown the stick for the dogs, she had been unable to resist a few glances in the young couple's direction. And she had been somewhat pleased with what she had seen.

Certainly, she had seen few outward displays of affection, but it seemed as if Gemma had at least allowed her husband to say his piece. And if Sandra was not mistaken, she had even allowed him to hold her hand. And when it came to this marriage, that felt like the victory to end all victories.

“And what of you, Wyatt, dear?” Martha spoke up over her teacup, her words syrupy sweet. “Did you sleep well? Once you returned from your evening out with Lord Anderson?”

Wyatt darted a fleeting glance at Gemma, who did a stellar job of not reacting to his mother's jibe. Sandra smiled to herself. The girl was learning. And not a moment too soon.

“I slept fine, Mother. The night was most uneventful.”

Sandra caught the tiny smile flicker in the corner of his mouth. The liar! She knew it. Uneventful night, my foot!

She sat back in her chair and sipped her tea, with no small amount of satisfaction.

“Gemma.” She whirled around at the sound of her husband's voice. He jogged out of the breakfast room to catch up with her on the stairs. When he reached her side, he hesitated for a moment, lips parted, as though his words had died on his tongue.

“Are you well?” he asked finally, his words slightly stilted, as though he had not been ravishing every inch of her body last night.

Gemma gave him a slight smile, amused at his sudden formality. “Yes. I am well. Thank you for asking.”

“Good.” He clasped his hands behind his back. “I just wanted to say… I, uh, I am sorry if it was wrong of me not to return to you last night. After… Well…”

Gemma raised her eyebrows. She had never seen him so tongue-tied before. She shook her head. “Do not apologize. It was the right thing to do. You know that, I am sure.”

Wyatt straightened. “Yes. Right. Of course.”

“And you put the book back? Right where I told you to put it?”

A smile played at the edge of his lips. “Top shelf. Right beside Robinson Crusoe. ”

For a moment, Gemma's mind flickered back to the events that had taken place in the library.

To the sound of Wyatt's deep voice reading the words on the pages of that forbidden book.

Of the huskiness in his words as he had stepped close to her.

“Is this what you think about, Gemma? Is that what you want me to do to you?” She felt her cheeks heat.

“I have a lot of work to do today,” said Wyatt, sounding faintly apologetic. “I shall be up in my office for most of the day.”

Gemma snapped out of her reverie. “Yes, of course. I shall leave you to?—”

“But I wondered if perhaps I might take you out tonight? To the theater perhaps? My family has a box at the Theatre Royal.”

For a moment, something bloomed unbidden in Gemma's chest. She loved the theater, and in truth, it had been many years since her family had had the money to fund such a night out.

Certainly, she had never seen a show from a box at Drury Lane.

She opened her mouth to accept Wyatt's invitation, then stopped abruptly.

There were so many reasons why she could not attend the theater with him. Not least the fear that such a kind gesture might push her to break her rule about growing close to him. But this she had no intention of sharing with him.

“I do not think that is the best idea,” she said. “It has been barely a week since our wedding. The ton will go mad if they see us out together. I do not wish to be the source of any gossip.” She shook her head. “Or rather, any more gossip than we have been already.”

Something that looked close to disappointment flickered across Wyatt's eyes, but he blinked it away quickly. “Yes. Of course. You're right, I am sure.” He gave her a stilted smile. “Well. In that case, I will see you this evening at dinner.”

Gemma watched from the landing as he disappeared up the stairs to his office, unable to make sense of the dull ache taking root inside her chest.