She pushed the door open and Grant came to his feet behind the big desk. ‘My dear Kate, you have no need to knock.’
My dear Kate. ‘Thank you.’ She made herself meet Grant’s eyes and smile. She at least felt rather more composed now she was dressed and had made a neat list of things to talk about. It was amazing how clothes made a barrier to hide behind. Last night she had been naked with this man, clawing at his muscled back, revelling in the hard thrust of his body.
Kate took a firm hold on her imagination and forced herself to be practical. This was broad daylight. She was the mistress of the house, coming to discuss harmless domestic matters. She should not feel awkward—after all, up until yesterday she had not needed to knock on any door in this house. Except for the one Grant kept locked. Bluebeard’s chamber. Madeleine’s rooms. She took the seat on the other side of the expanse of polished oak. ‘I have several things I would like to discuss.’
‘So do I. An early ride gives me the opportunity for some uninterrupted thinking, so I made some notes.’ Grant picked up the sheet of paper from the blotter in front of him, frowned at it, then abruptly screwed it up and tossed it into the hearth. ‘And I thought I had worked it all out, a plan for this marriage.’
‘A plan? Why do we need a plan?’
‘I did not think we did. I thought I would come back here for the summer, join my wife and family, spend a pleasant few months getting to grips with the estate and then take us all back to London after Christmas when Parliament reconvenes. Then you could enjoy the Season.’
‘And that is no longer your intention?’ Please, not London.
‘Certainly it is. And I thought that it would be easy enough to find a way to live together, to coexist and form a household, despite the way our marriage started.’
Her mouth felt dry. Kate willed herself to say calmly, ‘So what has changed?’ What had gone wrong that he had brooded about on his morning ride?
‘Last night—’ He broke off, looked out of the window and then back at her as though making the effort to meet her gaze. ‘I was not going to say anything. I thought we could coexist, work together and simply put the past behind us. But in the light of day, I wonder if that is the best way forward for us.’ He picked up a quill without looking at it and Kate watched as it bent in his grip. When it snapped Grant glanced down as though he was unaware he had been holding it.
‘I see.’ She could hear that her voice was colourless, but for the life of her she did not know how to inject any warmth into it. ‘You must find me inexperienced, lacking in…sophistication.’
‘In bed? Oh, hell.’ Grant got to his feet, came round the desk and sat on the edge of it, close to her. ‘No, that is not what I mean. Last night was very pleasurable for me, Kate. Very. But I heard what you whispered afterwards. You are still in love with him, aren’t you? You are doing your duty as my wife, but you still love Anna’s father.’ He said duty as though it was a dirty word.
‘I… No, I don’t.’ She realised how important it was to make Grant understand that. He did not love her, he was not asking or expecting her to love him, but he must loathe the thought that he had taken to his bed a woman who was gritting her teeth and doing her duty—even if she discovered she enjoyed it.
If Jonathan had been a groom from the stables, a local farmer, a merchant from King’s Lynn—any of those—she could tell the truth, admit he was alive and had refused to marry her. But how could she confess that her lover had been an aristocrat who was in all probability known to Grant? The awful thought struck her that they might be friends. What if Jonathan had confided in him? I’m being blackmailed by some dirty little worm and his two-faced bitch of a sister.
She had to keep lying even though she hated it. ‘I had thought I must still love him, but I am not in love and perhaps I never was.’ She stared up at Grant, trying to find the right words, create a safe fiction that would protect her—and him—from the humiliation of the discovery that he had married not just another man’s cast-off lover, that he had given his name, not to some fatherless baby, but a child with a parent who could very well support it. A man who would probably want to see her and her brother tried for blackmail.
Kate tried to find a story that would satisfy him. ‘Jonathan was going to America, and then he would send for me. But when no letter came, when I realised he must be dead, lost at sea, then I was frantic with worry. But not with grief. I was sad, but I wasn’t devastated. And I would have been, wouldn’t I, if I loved him?’
It was partly true. When Henry told her that Lord Baybrook had refused to marry her she had been frightened, but she had been more fearful that Henry would challenge him to a duel rather than shattered by his betrayal. If she had loved him, truly loved him, his refusal to protect her should have broken her heart. And when she had found out Henry’s infamy, if she had loved Jonathan she would have gone to him, done everything in her power to put things right. As it was, to her shame, she had done nothing until she realised that Henry was a threat to her unborn child.
‘I see.’ Grant lifted a hand as though to touch her, then let it fall back to rest on his thigh. The broad hand gripped the buckskin-covered muscle and the movement sparked a dull gleam from the signet on his finger.
She could not raise her gaze from his hand. ‘You are shocked.’ Of course he was, what did she expect? ‘It was scandalous enough that I slept with him, but if I did not even have the excuse of loving him… And now, to find such pleasure with a man I hardly know? You must think I am a wanton.’
‘I think I am a lucky man.’ Kate jerked up her head and saw Grant’s smile—sudden, dazzling. Confusing. Then he bent down, pulled her into his arms and up to perch on the desk beside him. ‘You are not wanton, Kate. You are sensual, passionate and desirable. I thought I was marrying a woman with courage and intelligence who would be a good stepmother to Charlie. I rather think I have been more fortunate than I deserve.’
‘Desirable?’ She was no traditional beauty, she knew that. And childbirth had made changes to her body, even though she had ridden and walked until her figure was trim again and her muscles taut.
‘Desirable,’ Grant confirmed and bent his head to snatch a kiss from her lips. ‘Did you not notice how much pleasure you gave me last night?’
Kate felt ready to sink, but Grant was being frank with her, and very understanding, so she owed it to him to be equally frank. Besides, his arm around her waist, the pressure of his body against hers, gave her courage. ‘I thought men didn’t mind very much who they were with, once they were actually making love. That any woman would do.’
Beside her Grant made a sudden, suppressed sound. Laughter or outrage? ‘Believe me, we mind.’ It had been laughter. ‘And, no, any woman will not do. Except for the sort of rutting beasts whom I hope you will never encounter.’
‘You do not find being married to me as bad as you feared, then?’ She let herself lean into him, reading his mood through the feel of the big body more easily than she could interpret his expression.
Grant stiffened, then she felt him relax. He has decided to carry on being truthful. ‘I foresaw difficulties, and the bedchamber was one of them. I am much reassured.’
‘And the others included the fact that you thought me plain, awkward and unfit to be an earl’s wife?’ Kate prodded.
‘As you observed yesterday, neither of us was at their best last Christmas.’
‘So you left me here rather than allow London society to see who you’d married.’ As soon as she said it, she knew the fact that he had left her here had been a blow to her pride, even as she had been so relieved that he had done so. And it was very poor tactics to make him think she wanted to go there now.
Grant got to his feet and began to pace around the study. ‘I could not… It was too soon after the birth for you to travel.’ Pe