The Ugly Duchess

Page 14

Theo nodded. “And she specified that you had to bring me into conversation about the estate.”
“No, she said nothing of the sort. I had the papers drawn up so that you and I are both executors.”
This time Theo’s mouth actually fell open. “You did what?”
“It’s entailed, of course. You cannot sell it, any more than I can.”
“This was my mother’s idea?”
“No. Actually, she wasn’t enthusiastic, and my father was apoplectic, to put it mildly. But I forced it.” A gleam of satisfaction shone in his eyes. “You know I’m hopeless when it comes to numbers and the like, Daisy. But you’re not. We can think together about what’s to be done. We used to come up with all sorts of ideas, remember?”
Theo gaped at him. She’d never heard of an estate administered by a woman. Well, at least by a woman who wasn’t a widow.
“I’m at my best out-of-doors,” James continued doggedly, “and if you tell me to pick the best horse in a race, I can do it with a fair degree of accuracy. If you think we should improve the breeding stock of the sheep on the estate, I can certainly do that. But sitting in the library and listening to a string of numbers? I’ll go mad.”
“I’m happy to come,” Theo said. She felt almost as if she were going to cry. “I’m just—I’m so honored that you wish me to help.”
“No reason to be,” James said, a trifle sharply. “You might as well know now that my father’s nearly driven the estate into the ground. It’s your inheritance that has to get it solvent again. So it’s only fair that you be part of it all.”
Theo blinked at that revelation but pushed the thought away for the moment. “I don’t think there are many men who think as you do,” she said a little mistily. “As long as you know that I didn’t learn double-entry bookkeeping or anything truly useful from my governesses.”
“You can learn. From what my father has told me, my mother ran the estate while she was alive, and she wouldn’t have had any training, either. And I’ll be there, Daisy. I just don’t want to do it without you.”
“All right,” Theo said. She felt a burst of happiness so acute that she couldn’t say another word.
But her new husband merely stood there, looking rather awkward. Finally he said, “Was last night acceptable? You aren’t injured, are you?”
“James, you’re turning pink!” Theo exclaimed.
“I am not.”
“You really must stop fibbing,” she observed. “I can see through you every time. And to your question, yes, it was surprisingly nice. Although I have thought of one thing we should do differently.”
He instantly looked wary. “What?”
“I shall come to your bedchamber, rather than you coming to mine.”
“Oh.”
“How often does one do this marital business?” Theo asked, with some curiosity. James looked rather staggeringly delicious. In fact, she could quite imagine kissing him at that very moment. But, of course, one didn’t do that sort of thing spontaneously, and certainly not during the day.
“As often as one wants,” James replied. His cheeks were undeniably rosy now.
She dropped into a chair. “I realize that I do have a question about last night.” She waved her hand at the chair opposite. “Please sit down.”
He sat, if with obvious reluctance.
It was strangely wanton to sit opposite a man—her husband—while wearing nothing more than a light silk negligee. Early morning sunlight streamed over her shoulder and played on her hair, and even though her hair was an odd color, it always looked best in natural light, so she pulled it forward over her shoulder.
“Last night was the first time I made love to anyone,” she announced, rather unnecessarily, but she wanted to make the point.
“I know that.”
“I would like to know how many women you have made love to.”
James stiffened. “More than enough.”
“How many?”
“Why do you want to know?”
“Because I just do. It’s my right to know, as your wife.”
“Nonsense. No one tells his wife that sort of thing. You shouldn’t even ask. It’s not proper.”
Theo crossed her arms again. She’d noticed that it made her breasts plump up. “Why won’t you tell me?”
“Because it’s not proper,” James repeated, starting up from his chair. His eyes were fiery, and Theo felt a glow of excitement. She loved it when James lost his temper, even though she hated it when his father did. He bent over her, bracing his arms on her chair. “Why do you want to know? Was there something about last night that made you feel that my experience was insufficient?”
Enthralled by his darkening eyes, Theo fought the desire to pull him closer. Or break into laughter. “How would I know if last night was insufficient?” she said, choking back a giggle.
One hand closed around her neck with slow deliberation. “You’ll probably be the death of me.” A thumb nudged up her chin. “Were you satisfied last night, Daisy?”
She scowled at him and shook her head, dislodging his hand. “Theo.”
“How can I not think of you as Daisy when your hair is all about your face like the petals of a flower?” He crouched down on his heels before her chair and picked up a thick curl. “It’s glossy, like sunshine.”
“I prefer to be addressed as Theo,” she told him, once again. “And it was very nice last night, thank you. I asked about others because I want to know something about you that no other person knows.”
James was looking at the lock of hair he held with as much concentration as if he held strands of gold, but at that he met her eyes. “You know everything about me.”
“No, I don’t.”
“You’re the only one who knows me,” he said quietly. “All there is to know about me that matters, Daisy—I mean, Theo. I’m rotten with figures. I’m good with animals. I detest my father. I can’t control my temper, and I hate the fact I inherited that trait from him. I’m possessive. I’m intolerable—you’ve said that many times.”
“You love your father, too,” Theo pointed out, “however much you rage against him. And I still want to know the answer to my question.”
“If I tell you, may I have a lock of hair?”
“Goodness, how romantic,” Theo breathed, a thrill going straight to her toes. But a pang of common sense intruded. “If you cut one from the back, where it won’t show.”
James pulled out a penknife and moved behind her. “Not too much,” she entreated him, pulling her hair up and then letting it fall down the chair back. “Amélie will be terribly cross if I have a bald spot.”
He ran his hands through her hair and then said, quietly, “You were the second, Daisy. And the last.”
The smile on Theo’s face came straight from her heart, but she thought the brevity of his list was probably not a matter for celebration, to his mind at least, so she said nothing. She tilted her head back and saw that he had cut off a thick lock of her hair. “What on earth are you going to do with that? I’m dazzled by this sentimental streak of yours, James.” She reached up toward him. “What about a good morning kiss, then? For the one person who knows you best and still signed on to a lifetime of tolerating intolerableness?”