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Mary’s wet heat surrounded Drew as her inner muscles contracted, grasping for his seed. He broke straight after her. It was becoming a pattern of their encounters. Every muscle locked. He shut his eyes and let ecstasy sweep over him, its intensity burned like lit brandy in his blood, the flame flickering through his nerves. It even smothered the pain of his broken rib, which had clawed at his side while he’d moved.

They were made for one another. Sex had never been like this for him.

He opened his eyes, only to see a tear run from her left eye.

Her lower lip quivered. She caught it between her teeth.

He could not breathe. She was crying. The mist of sexual lust left him, and cold emptiness replaced it.

She had been enjoying their intercourse, had she not? She had reached the little death.

He withdrew from her, turning away, not knowing what to say.

He said the only thing he knew, glancing back at her. ‘I love you, Mary.’ But he heard uncertainty in his voice.

He got up.

She sat up, holding the sheet to her chest, her pale eyes angry. ‘Liar.’

They had just shared something blissful… What was this?

‘I doubt you love anyone bar yourself.’

My God. ‘I do love you. I know your family told you otherwise, but they are wrong.’

She let the sheet fall and slipped off the bed, going to one of her trunks. ‘Do not lie. I heard you last night.’

She’d been asleep.

She lifted the lid of a trunk. ‘I heard your friends joking about how they helped seduce me with those letters.’

Damn it all to hell! He crossed the room.

The lid of her trunk banged down as it slipped from her hand and she nearly fell in an attempt to back away from him.

She had feared he would hit her. He would never do that, but it cut him hard to know she thought he could. He lifted his hands, palms outwards, his painful rib roaring as it jarred. ‘You were pretending to sleep…’

Her eyes flashed fire.

God, I am an ass .

‘Your friends were laughing at me. I am glad I amuse you all?—’

‘You do no?—’

‘I shall not let them hurt Emily. I will call on her today and tell her not to trust Lord Brooke.’

‘Mary, darling, they were jesting.’

Her chin tilted up. ‘It was unkind of you to court me. You should have left me alone.’

They were not words of accusation, but those of a desperately unhappy young woman. A wave of love rolled in on top of him, crashing over him, a sensation he was becoming used to. He stepped forward, he wished to comfort her. ‘Mary… Honestly, darling.’

She pushed his hands away.

‘Mary…’ he pleaded.

She turned her back and opened her trunk. ‘What is done cannot be undone. Will you help me dress?’

‘Of course I shall. But I only asked them to help with the letters because you would not meet me again, I am not good with words, it does not make the sentiment in them untrue. I would have done anything to win you.’

‘Anything?’ She stood with a dress clasped to her chest. ‘Do you admit you lied?’

‘I have lied many times in my life, but that I love you is true.’ Anger and frustration sizzled.

‘I don’t believe you.’

Damn her. He turned away. He was tired, still half asleep, a little drugged by the aftermath of sex and in pain. He picked out his clothes and tossed them on the bed then looked back at her. ‘And I do not know how to convince you.’

‘It would be better if you did not lie.’

‘I am not lying, but clearly you value your family’s word more than mine. I suppose you have decided you do not love me now?’ It was a childish thing to say, but Drew was out of his depth.

She did not answer.

‘I will dress and then I am going out for a ride. I usually take one of the horses out before breakfast.’ He was running away from her again, coward that he was. But he did not know what else to do. He was disgusted with himself. Perhaps if he had not made such a mull of things yesterday and become angry, she would still believe him.

He turned to the basin and tipped in some water from the jug, it splashed into the bowl. She kept her back to him, searching through her trunks, while he washed and dressed.

Once dressed, he looked back at her. She had laid her clothes out on the bed. He supposed she missed having a maid to do such tasks. He ought to find them better accommodation as soon as he could, with space for staff.

He sighed. ‘I will leave you. What do you want for breakfast?’

She looked at him as though he was Cerberus with three heads.

He did not wait for her answer. ‘I’ll have some bread and cheese sent up.’ He left then.

When he returned over an hour and a half later the sitting room was empty, and the untouched loaf of bread and wheel of cheese stood on the table.

The door of the bedroom was open, but she was not in there.

Fear beat its drum in his heart. Had she left him?

He’d ridden his horse hard and fast across the open lawns of Hyde Park, burning off his anger and frustration, willing himself to work out how to convince her that he loved her. He’d found no answers, but he could not keep hiding and so he returned – too late…

Her belongings were in his bedchamber, though. Hairpins, her hairbrush and the mirror stood on his chest of drawers. She had not left him.

Her short corset had been thrown on the bed.

Damn , she’d asked him to help her dress. He had not.

He returned to the sitting room. A sheet of paper rested on top of her writing desk.

I have gone home to fetch some things.

Home. The word cut as deeply as her accusations this morning. Where he was should be her home now.

Hell . She must have walked alone, there was no one to accompany her.

He would hire a maid to come during the day. He looked at his watch. How long ago had she left? Perhaps he ought to go after her. But as the bread was untouched, she must have left early and would already be there.

This was a statement to him; that she would not be tied down. He heard it loud and clear.

He could follow, but he did not want to call at her brother’s house and subject himself to her male relatives’ spite. He could go out again and pretend he did not care that she had gone. Or he could wait for her return. He chose the latter option, slipping off his coat as he walked to the window.

The fine weather had broken today, the sky was hidden behind grey clouds… What if she was caught in a rain storm?

She would not be, though. Pembroke would send her back in his carriage, and curse Drew.

His selfish side wished her family had cut her. But that was a stupid thought, because he had always known they would not and that was to their credit.

Drew cut some bread and cheese, as he tried to learn patience.

She returned after three tedious hours in which he played a boring game of chess against himself. The minute the door handle turned, he stood, feeling like the child who’d craved his mother’s attention that he had never received.

Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes bright beneath the brim of her straw bonnet. She had walked back. She wore a pale pink walking dress, the cloth decorated with cream flowers. The ribbon on her bonnet was cream too. She looked beautiful, as she always did.

She stood back and let Pembroke’s footman pass her, pointing to the table on which the half-eaten loaf rested. ‘Put them there, please, Tom.’

The young man did not even look at Drew as he set down a pile of books. There was a small bag on his arm, which he put there too. ‘Miss Marlow, if that is all.’ He bowed deeply, doubling over.

‘It is, thank you, Tom. And if you would call for me at two tomorrow, I would be very grateful.’

It appeared she had resolved the issue of accompaniment.

Drew’s hands slipped into his pockets as she shut the door and looked at him, her fingers untying the bow of her bonnet. She lifted it off.

He sucked in a breath. ‘You went to Pembroke’s for the books, I take it…’

‘And my embroidery and threads.’ Her sweet voice denied this morning’s argument.

His hands lifted out of his pockets. ‘You should not have gone alone.’

‘I did not. Joseph had one of the maids from below-stairs accompany me there, and as you saw Tom walked me back.’ She put her bonnet on the table and tugged off her gloves.

His contrary nature admired her for defying any need to rely on him. ‘You should have eaten though. You did not eat last night I know.’

‘I ate at home. Breakfast was still being served when I arrived.’

‘It is not your home any more.’ The word had kicked him.

‘Mama and Papa are going to a musical evening tonight, at the Everetts’. Mama asked if we wished to join them.’

He sighed.

She continued. ‘They will collect us on the way.’

He did not want her to go and yet, as things stood, what would they do if they stayed here together? Argue and upset one another. ‘You may go. I’ll pass, if you do not mind.’

Her gaze fell to the floorboards. ‘I am sorry I took so long,’ she said to his feet, before turning to look at the books. ‘My sister-in-law returned with my nephew and my brothers and sisters. I could not just leave again.’

‘I am glad you had opportunity to see them. Shall I ring for coffee or tea, or is there something else you would like?’

‘No, nothing. Thank you.’ She glanced over her shoulder.

‘Well, I want some. I will ring.’ He walked over and rang the bell. Then looked at her.

She had lifted an embroidery frame from the bag.

It was a wonder having her feminine things in his rooms, with her perfume lingering in the air. It was not just her things though; she made the place a home to him and yet she did not think it so.

Sighing, he ignored the urge to bite at her, hanging on to his patience and keeping his voice temperate. ‘I am sorry about this morning. But you are wrong, I love you. Yes, my friends came up with the words in those letters, but that is the only part they played. Everything I have said to you is the truth, Mary. Now, you may believe me or not, but I have been playing an unfulfilling game of chess against myself. Do you play?’ This was not the marriage he had hoped for yet. But for now, at least they could be companionable. Better that than arguing.

She looked at him. ‘I can play.’

‘Then would you play a game with me?’

She nodded, accepting his offer of a truce.

He turned a second armchair to face the table and reset the chessboard as she sat down. If was like a metaphor of their marriage, this is what they would do. He would reset their places and begin again. He had convinced her to love him once. He could do so again. When every piece was back in its starting position, he sat down, facing her on the opposite side of the board.

‘You take the first move, Mary.’

It was right that she took the first move this time… It was her turn to lead this…