‘You think you can recommend marriage from your own experience, do you?’ Julia glanced up sharply to find Will doodling patterns up the margins of the sheet on which she had been calculating wheat yields.
She would not let him fluster her. ‘Hardly,’ she said with a smile, making a joke of it. If he wanted plain speaking, he would get it. ‘A husband who vanishes less than twenty-four hours after the ceremony and returns three years later with no warning is hardly a model of ideal matrimony.’
Will raised a quizzical eyebrow, prepared, it seemed to be amused. He steepled his fingers and regarded her over the top of them. ‘You dealt with Delia very effectively. I must thank you for your support. The tone in which you said left posterior was exactly right, although it was a miracle I kept my countenance.’
‘It was fortunate that it was you who raised the subject of birthmarks—if Mrs Hadfield had asked I would not have had the slightest idea what to say.’
The left side of Will’s mouth quirked into a half-smile that produced, improbably in that strong face, a dimple. Julia stared at it, distracted by how it lightened his whole expression. ‘I wouldn’t worry about that kind of slip,’ he said. ‘She is perfectly well aware that for a couple married three years we have had only two nights when it was theoretically possible to see each other’s...shall we say, distinguishing marks.’ The smile slipped easily from amused to wicked. ‘So far. And, for all my aunt knows, we might be a most prudish couple who retire to bed in our nightgowns and blow out all the candles.’
Julia’s mood moved just as easily as that smile, from almost relaxed to exceedingly flustered. If Will was not regarding her so watchfully from those heavy-lidded predator’s eyes she would think him flirting. Perhaps he was, or perhaps he was trying to unsettle her—and succeeding very effectively, she had to admit. The thought of being naked with him, in a well-lit room, brought back all the memories of losing her virginity and added an all-too-tangible layer of apprehension and embarrassment to the mix of emotions that were unsettling her breakfast.
‘I will show you the books now to save time when Mr Wilkins arrives.’ Accounts, rents and the problems of the unsatisfactory tenant of Lower Acre Farm should divert her thoughts from the bedroom most effectively. The clock struck the half-hour, reminding her that distractions only served to bring bedtime closer and she still had no idea how she was going to react when Will came to her chamber door. Or how she was going to tell him what she must.
‘That can wait.’ He stood up, long and lean and as disturbing as a panther in the civilised room. Julia sat quite still in her chair as he walked past her. If he was going out, it would give her a soothing half-hour with the books...
‘You were very kind to Aunt Delia, although she cannot have been easy to get on with, these past three years,’ he said. Right behind her.
‘We have learned to rub along. Your return was a shock and I feel sorry for her—she knows Henry is slipping out of her control and she has invested all her energies in him. It can only get worse when he begins to take an interest in courting. She will be a lonely woman soon.’
‘And you were not only supportive to my aunt.’ Will must be standing immediately behind her. Julia imagined she could feel the heat of his body. The upholstered chair back moved slightly and she realised he had closed his hand over it, just beside her shoulder. ‘You have been loyal to me. Wifely.’ He seemed to find the word amusing: she could hear the smile in his voice.
‘Naturally. I am your wife, after all. It is important to keep up appearances.’ She was not smiling. In fact, even to herself, she sounded miserably priggish.
‘You are anxious to make this marriage work, then?’ A featherlight touch on her shoulder, barely discernible through the light muslin scarf that filled the neckline of her morning gown. Imagination. No, real. Now the finger was stroking across the muslin, touching the bare skin of her neck, lingering to explore the sensitive skin just behind her right ear.
When she swallowed he must have felt it. She hated to betray her agitation, even by a little involuntary movement. ‘Of course I am.’
‘What is this?’ Will’s breath stirred the fine wisps along her hairline. He must have bent close. If she turned, they would be face to face, their lips might meet...
She felt as though she was made of tinder and Will was holding a flame so close, so very close. Julia kept still with an effort and said lightly, ‘The scar? I was chased by a bull and had to throw myself into a hedge. I emerged rather the worse for wear.’ It was only a little scar, just a quarter of an inch long. She could feel it under her fingers when she washed or dabbed scent behind her ear. ‘I had not thought it showed. Is it very red?’
‘Not at all. I only noticed it because I was looking very closely.’ The warm breath moved, trailed its caress right round to the other side of her neck. Julia rolled her eyes uncomfortably to the left, rigid with the effort not to shiver. Will loomed beside her.
After a moment, to her intense relief, he straightened up and strolled back to hitch one hip on the edge of the desk. ‘Farming appears to be a dangerous operation when you undertake it. I never found it necessary to traipse around fields looking at bulls, let alone provoke them into chasing me.’
‘Which explains why the one you had was an inferior specimen with an unreliable temper. Unlike my...our current bull.’ From the way he narrowed his eyes at her Julia could only assume that criticising a man’s bull was like criticising his own virility.
‘It will not be necessary for you to get your hands dirty, or your shoes muddy, or to endanger yourself in any way connected with the estate from now on. Let alone indulge in such occupations as judging stud animals. Hardly a ladylike thing to be doing in any case.’
That was the attitude she had feared he would adopt. ‘But I am good at it. And I enjoy it. All of it. It is, after all, why you married me.’ She kept her tone free from any hint of pleading, or of aggression.
‘But the situation has changed. And there are many things in life that we enjoy that it is not acceptable that we indulge ourselves in.’
Julia swallowed the very rude retort that sprang to her lips, although the impulse to demonstrate just how unacceptable her behaviour could be by going upstairs, changing into her divided skirt and boots and riding astride round the estate was almost overwhelming. She folded her hands neatly in her lap and remarked, ‘That is the sort of remark that gentlemen make when they intend it to apply to wives and daughters, never to themselves.’
‘Are you suggesting that I behave in a manner not befitting a gentleman?’ The lazy amusement had quite vanished although Will still lounged there, apparently at ease.
Julia shrugged. ‘Gentlemanly behaviour appears to encompass gaming, whoring and drinking. All wives can do about it, so I understand, is to hope that the mistresses are not too expensive, that the gaming is for low stakes and that the drinking does not lead to imprudent expenditure on the other two entertainments.’
‘I see.’ Will got off the desk and went back to his chair. All inclination to flirt, or tease her by caressing her neck, had obviously vanished. ‘It is a little late to be enquiring about my character, don’t you think?’
‘If it was vicious, or your activities scandalous, I would doubtless have heard about it by now.’ Julia got up and went to the pile of ledgers stacked on a side table. She knew where she was with those. They did not answer back, play with words or look at her with eyes that tried to strip her to the soul. She wanted to tell him that of course she knew his character was good, but she could not find the words.
‘You may rest assured, my dear, that I dislike over-indulgence in drink, I gamble well within my means and I am not in the habit of whoring.’ When she did not reply Will added, ‘I assume you also wish to know whether I have a mistress in keeping, but do not like to ask directly?’
She