Trial by Desire (Carhart #2)(38)

Black magic, for sure; but he’d been crippled by doubts before. He didn’t have time for them any longer.

It was time to start becoming the husband he could be.

CHAPTER TEN

“I KNOW WHAT YOU’RE DOING.”

That harsh voice echoed in the marble entry as Kate entered the manor. She had stared at Champion for a few minutes after her husband had left her, and then, confused and heartsick, had returned home. Now, she paused on the threshold, her eyes still adjusting to the dark of the interior, before she located Harcroft. He stood in the comparative shadow of the hallway, watching her. His expression was shrouded in darkness. Then he walked forward and the light caught his features. A half-mocking smile curved his lips.

Kate’s silk stockings were still damp about her ankles where the grass had brushed her feet. He looked her over; instinctively, she pulled up the black stole that she’d looped around her arms, covering herself.

He had changed into soft slippers and loose trousers. Smoke curled from the pipe he held in one hand—he must have just come in off the verandah—and he put his other hand up and leaned, negligently, against the wall. It would be foolish to draw back in fear, as she wished; it was doubly foolish to wish her husband present, to step between them.

But Ned wasn’t here. He’d walked away from her again.

Kate took a deep breath. Harcroft couldn’t know what she was doing. He couldn’t possibly have any idea. She’d do best to keep up her ruse.

“Good heavens, my lord,” she said warmly. “However did you guess? Was it the wet shoes? Or the damp hem of my gown?” She tried to keep her smile friendly; it was like trying to smile at an Egyptian crocodile without noticing the sharpness of its teeth.

Harcroft took a step toward her.

“Perhaps the hour of the day, just before supper.” She reluctantly pulled the stole from her shoulders and folded it; the action gave her an excuse to step away and set the garment down on a table. “Whatever it was, you must tell me how it is you figured out that I was just about to change my clothing. I had thought to wear my blue satin tonight. Do you think my mother’s pearl necklace would suit? Now, if you’ll pardon me—”

“Pardon?” He spoke in a low growl. “There is no pardon for what you’ve done.”

She stared at him, feigning blankness. “You feel strongly about the pearls, then.”

“You think yourself very clever, don’t you? All those backhanded comments, every last word spoken in front of the group. I haven’t forgotten a word of them, you witless woman.”

Kate let her eyes widen in shock. “Oh, dear. How inexcusably rude you are being, Harcroft. I know your delicate emotions are overset by recent events, but I must insist that in my own home, you treat me with respect.”

If he heard her, he didn’t acknowledge it. “No doubt you talked to my wife about marital affairs that ought to stay between husband and wife. No doubt she offered you her own female version of events, calculated in typical feminine fashion to make me appear as awful as possible.” He spat the words female and feminine as if they were the foulest curses imaginable.

If he thought she’d restricted herself only to talk, he really hadn’t the faintest idea what she’d done.

Still, Kate blushed. “Ooh.” She let her eyes drop. “You mean…you knew about that? But how humiliating for you. And no wonder you are rude. All married ladies talk about the marital bed. How else are we to have a point of comparison? Infidelity is gauche. One must rely upon gossip instead.”

“Gossip about the marital bed? But I was speaking of—”

“If you must know,” Kate continued, “it happened years ago. Louisa was curious, and I had questions. We described our respective experiences and asked for advice. When it was Louisa’s turn, it was Lady Moncrieff who made the indelicate comparison to an undersized carrot. I never mentioned it. I promise you.”

That froze him in his spot. He licked his lips carefully, and then looked around, as if to ascertain that nobody else had heard. “An—an undersized carrot?”

“I would never have participated in such an indelicate conversation, I assure you. A lady should not speak about a gentleman’s vegetables. But you are entirely right to reprimand me, my lord. I sincerely apologize for listening. Sometimes, when ladies get in very large groups, our feminine nature takes over. And we do say some indiscreet things.”

“A very large group of ladies had a discussion about…about…”

All his bravado, all that masculine intent, had shriveled up—smaller than carrot size, Kate judged. He looked about the entry wildly, as if expecting a bevy of ladies to leap from the woodwork, all laughing at him.

“Don’t look so abashed. We only spoke of vegetables for a few minutes. I’m positive nobody else recalls the conversation.”

He looked slightly mollified.

“After all,” Kate mused on, “that comparison was rather eclipsed by Lady Lannister’s comment about a maid—”

“A maid!”

“—beating laundry against a metal washboard.”

He had nothing to say to that. His mouth gaped. He stepped back. “It wasn’t—no—have all the ladies been thinking that, all these years, when they see me?”

“Thinking what? About a very tiny root vegetable?” Kate held up her thumb and forefinger, slightly more than an inch apart. Harcroft blanched.