Mastering The Marquess (Bound and Determined #1)(61)

“I never knew.” And it was clear that Lady Perse did not like not knowing.

“I am not sure that anybody did. My husband is a man of secrets.”

“Exactly why I wasn’t sure about the match. One never knows what one will get when one marries a man with secrets. And surprises are not always pleasant.”

Well, hers had been so far—at least as far as her husband was concerned. “I am sure that you are right.”

“Of course I am,” the older women answered. “I would admit, I have more experience with younger women, those entering the market for the first time, but I do believe some rules are universal.”

It almost sounded as if Lady Perse did not wish her to be happy.



“Did you not care for the duck? You have hardly touched your portion,” Swanston asked, setting down his knife.

“I am just without appetite, I fear. The duck is quite good. The plum glaze is wonderful,” Louisa replied as she watched her husband lift his glass.

“I am glad you think so. It has always been one of my favorites, so I should hate to give it up.”

“Give it up?” She could not keep the surprise from her voice.

“Well, with only the two of us to dinner most nights it would be a shame to serve something that you did not like. It seems silly for Cook to prepare food for just one.” Swanston put down his glass again, his gaze meeting hers and holding it.

“But surely she cooked just for you before I arrived. How is it different now?”

“Well, now she would need to make a separate dish to suit you as well.”

Louisa pulled her glance from his and allowed it to wander over a sideboard filled with dishes waiting to be served. “You don’t think that I could find something to suit me in all of that, even if I did not like the duck?”

“It simply does not need to be an issue. If you do not like the duck we will not have it.”

“But I have already said that I do like the duck.”

“But if you did not …” He spoke with some force.

“But I do.” She tried to match the firmness of his tone, but feared that she failed.

Swanston sat up higher in his chair, his chin jutting forward. “And I say that if you did not like it then it would not be served in this house.”

Suddenly it was all too much for her and she could not hold back the giggle that leaked from between her lips; even lifting the damask napkin to cover it did not help.

“What?”

She let the napkin fall back to her lap. “Are we actually going to have our first fight arguing about a situation that we both admit doesn’t exist?”

“I merely mean you to understand …” And then Swanston’s voice trailed off, and he smiled. A genuine smile—the first she had seen upon his lips that was not polite, not measured, not for show, but a genuine smile that reached his eyes and lit them.

Something turned over in her stomach and relaxed, some tension she had not even been aware she held. “I do understand.”

“Good.” His smile stayed. “So you will tell Cook if you do not care for something?”

“I promise.” She placed a hand over her heart and watched as his eyes followed her movement, watched as they settled on the spot where the skin of her palm covered the bare upper curve of her breast. The moment changed from carefree to intimate. Her heart beat strong beneath her touch, her skin soft and slightly damp from the heat as the satin edging of her bodice caressed her tender flesh. She’d never been so aware of just how she felt, of what he must experience whenever he touched her in the dark of their chamber.

It became difficult to look at him as wants began to curl deep in her belly, their fingers reaching up to seep along her limbs. She shifted slightly in her chair, still aware of the weight of his gaze.

Taking a measured gaze, she tried to shift this mood that she did not know how to handle. “I don’t like kidneys. Everyone is always trying to tell me that if I tried them this way or that I would find them delectable. I never have. I always feel like I am eating dirt.”

“No kidneys then.” It sounded as if he were keeping a mental list.

“And cauliflower. I do not know why it tastes different from other vegetables but I always find it a waste upon the plate—unless it has been soaked in vinegar and sugar.”

“So no cauliflower unless pickled.”

Her mind worked to find something else she did not care for; she had never been a picky eater. “Haggis. I must admit I’ve never tried it, but it sounds simply awful.”

Swanston cleared his throat, and she heard the tap of a heel upon the floor as he shifted. “I must admit to also never having tried the dish, but my brother Robert spent some years in Scotland and developed a taste for it. Still, I imagine you are safe from having it appear on the table.”

“That is a relief.” She lifted her eyes back to his and froze. She had been wrong that the mood had shifted. His gaze was still focused on the edge of her gown, watching as each breath she took lifted her breasts and then released them. She found herself glancing down to be sure that nothing was showing that should not.

When her eye met his again, it felt as if all the air had been sucked from the room. Heat rose under her skin, and fires grew deep within her. She clenched her thighs tight and looked away, trying not to gasp.