Twice Tempted by a Rogue (Stud Club #2)(70)

“For our house.”

“Well, yes. That, too.”

His brow creased. “I don’t understand. Why can’t we—”

She kissed him, for no other reason than to cut short that question.

So strange. Ten minutes ago all she’d craved was for Rhys to take control, to leave her no choice, to overwhelm her senses completely. And never during their lovemaking had she felt anything other than cherished and safe. But an elopement …?

“I was promised a tour of Bath,” she said lightly. “There was talk of ribbons and romance.”

“So there was.” He gave her a smile, and she felt its warmth deep inside.

She loved him. After last night, there was no more denying it, not even to herself. And nothing would make her happier than to marry him. There were obstacles, yes. The inn’s future, Gideon’s threats … but from such a great distance, those obstacles seemed smaller now. Surmountable. Between them, surely she and Rhys had the strength and wits to sort it all out.

There was only one matter left to settle. Would marriage to her make Rhys happy? Not just satisfied in bed or at peace with his obligations, but truly happy? He deserved real contentment. With all this blind allegiance to the concept of destiny, she wasn’t sure he even knew what he wanted anymore. Given the choice, would he truly prefer a cottage in rural Devonshire to the opulent life he could be leading elsewhere? Would he honestly prefer her to the elegant ladies he could have?

His words kept echoing in her mind: It’s not like I have something better to do.

But he did. With his rank and wealth, he had so many options, and this holiday was likely to remind him of them. Before she could marry him, she needed time to observe, to gauge his thoughts and feelings in a setting outside their village.

“I just want to spend time with you,” she said honestly. “What do the gentry do in Bath, anyhow?”

He pursed his lips. “Truthfully, I’m not so certain anymore. I only spent one summer here as a boy, when my mother came to take the waters. That’s why people ostensibly come to Bath, you know. To take the mineral waters. If I recall correctly, the usual practice is to begin the day with a nice purgative, then travel by sedan chair to the Pump Room to sign the guest register and drink a glass or two of the rusty, foul-smelling stuff.”

Good Lord. That was the reason wealthy people flocked to Bath? People of quality would spend their money on the queerest things. But she didn’t want to offend Rhys by gainsaying the idea.

“Do you want to drink the waters?” she asked.

He chuckled. “What do you think? No, we’ll confine ourselves to the shops by day. Perhaps a walk about the Circus and Royal Crescent. And then later tonight … should you like to go to the theater?”

“Yes, please.” Inwardly she cheered. She would have a use for that red gown, after all. “That sounds like a perfectly lovely day. No purgatives or sedan chairs required.”

Rhys had never been one for visiting the shops. But then, he’d never had a lady on his arm to spoil. This, he learned, made the whole experience more tolerable.

They didn’t make it out of the suite until well after noon, but they dealt with the practical things first. He’d inquired at the hotel as to the source of the painted washbasin in their suite that had Meredith so enraptured, and they made that importer’s warehouse their first stop of the afternoon. There they ordered complete sets of basins, pitchers, chamber pots, and mirrors. “Four sets,” Meredith told the shopkeeper.

“Five,” Rhys corrected.

“But why?” She frowned up at him. “Oh, I see. So we have a spare, should anything break?”

“Make that six sets,” he called to the shopkeeper. “Four for the guest rooms,” he told her, “one for a spare, and one for our house.”

“Oh.” The little furrow in her brow only deepened. “But the set for the cottage doesn’t have to be so fine.”

“Yes, it does.” And forbidding any further discussion with a look, he gave the shopkeeper the address of their hotel. That was, after adding to the order a full set of china and silver for the Three Hounds’ new dining room.

“I’m going to repay you somehow,” she murmured.

“Absolutely not. This was part of the arrangement. I agreed to pay all construction expenses in return for the labor.”

“Yes, but most would not classify the washbasins and silver as construction expenses.”

“Of course they are. How can a guest room be considered complete without a washstand? What use is a dining room without silver?”

“Very well,” she consented as they left the importer’s. “But I insist on paying for the fabrics from my own purse.”

Rhys shook his head as he guided her out the door. Why did she argue over these small expenses? Once they married, all their money would be combined.

They strolled for a while, stopping in at Sally Lunn’s for a bit of refreshment and a taste of the famous buns. Rhys declared them tasty enough, but vastly inferior to Meredith’s own baking. That compliment earned him a toss of her dark head and a very pretty blush. All in all, he was modestly pleased with his progress in the romance arena.

Then it was on to the draper’s. There Meredith took command. A mountain of fabrics amassed on the countertop as she asked for yard after yard of plain, but high quality linen for bedsheets, then printed dimity for curtains. And she insisted on paying for them from her own purse, to Rhys’s frustration.