No One Needs to Know
“Good morning,” Herefordsaid over his coffee the next morning when Amelia joined him, not quite meeting his gaze. “I trust you slept well?”
Amelia sat across from him and immediately picked up a toast. “Yes, thank you. And you?”
He carefully buttered his own toast. “I did not, thanks to your late-night activities. London can be dangerous after dark. I was busy pondering providing you with a protection officer. Someone discreet.”
“No thank you to the protection officer. I spent enough time being afraid after my accident. Jumping at shadows, flinching at every loud noise. I refuse to live that way again.”
“This isn’t about fear,” he said, leaning back. “You’re a wealthy woman now. There are practical considerations.”
“Teach me to fence.”
The words hung between them. Hereford slowed his chewing. “We’ve already discussed this.”
Amelia studied his face as he tried to tamp his frustration. “I’m asking you again. You’re supposedly one of the finest swordsmen in London. Why won’t you even try to teach me?”
“I’ve told you before. No.” He picked up his coffee cup. “I can provide you with any protection you require—”
“I don’t want your protection. I want the skills to protect myself.”
He put down his cup with more force than necessary. “It’s impracticalfor your injury. Should you be involved in a confrontation, you’ll lose. Men are stronger, faster, and have likely been wielding the sword since childhood. Your false confidence after a few lessons will be more dangerous than not knowing anything at all.”
“You underestimate me as everyone does. Teach me unless you’re too busy with the Duchess of Rutland.”
His jaw tightened as he stood.
“Why do you persist in thinking the worst of me? Have I given you any reason, any at all, to doubt my fidelity since our marriage?”
“Your reputation—”
“Damn my reputation!” His hands flew up as he paced the length of the table. “You know nothing about me beyond Society gossip and your own prejudices. You’ve decided I’m some sort of rakehell who cares nothing for honor or duty, and no evidence to the contrary seems to sway your opinion.”
“My lord—”
“Perhaps I should live up to your expectations,” he cut in, his voice dangerously soft. “Since you’re determined to believe the worst, I might as well enjoy the benefits of such a reputation.”
“That would only prove my point,” she said, lifting her chin.
“Would it?” He whirled to face her. “Or would it simply make it easier for you to run to Norwich? Or one of your fellow journalists.”
For a moment, they stared at each other, the air between them crackling with something that wasn’t quite anger. Then Hereford straightened abruptly.
“Perhaps,” he said, his voice dropping lower, “we should discuss the real issue. Why maintain this pretense of propriety when we could simply consummate our marriage? No one needs to know if you still wish to leave after the year.”
Amelia’s hands trembled slightly as she placed her cup in its saucer. “If I recall correctly, my lord, you were the one who insisted on ending this marriage after a year.”
“That was before I knew you’d think the worst of me. If I’m bedding you, at least you won’t wonder if I’m bedding someone else.”
“And what happens when I’m with child and you’ve found a new widow to warm your sheets?”
“Confound it, Amelia! You’re my wife! I’d take care of you!”
“Beyond the one year?”
His expression hardened. “The one-year stipulation was for both of our sakes as you’ve made your opinion of my character quite clear. I don’t want to watch you suffer unnecessarily. However, it’s not a requirement.”
“All I want from you is fencing lessons.”