"None for me," Alexandra said.
"Hmm." Tris poured some for himself, a wry smile curving his lips. "Could it be you overdid it in the kitchen last night?"
He'd heard. Well, of course he'd heard. Not only was he the lord of the manor, his own valet had been there as witness.
"I made some lemon puffs," she said, ignoring his implication.
"Yes, and they're quite delicious. I had two after luncheon. While you were sleeping off the drink."
"I was sleeping off the pain," she protested. "My body is complaining even more today than yesterday."
He nodded. "That's not unusual following an injury. You'll doubtless feel better tomorrow." He paused for a long sip, then met her eyes, his own a penetrating gray. "I'll take you to see Maude tomorrow."
She couldn't have heard right. "Pardon?"
"We'll take the curricle, since I'm certain you won't feel up to riding."
Tristan watched the parade of emotions cross her face: disbelief first, followed by relief and then cautious joy. "Are you sure?" she asked.
"I'm sure."
"I told you I was giving up. I meant that, Tris. It's what you wanted."
He took her measure for a moment and decided she was sincere. "Are you trying to talk me out of it?"
She shook her head emphatically.
"I appreciate your willingness," he told her. He appreciated that more than she'd ever know. "But I cannot allow you to give up."
Although he feared learning the truth, he couldn't let her wonder all her life if she might have restored his reputation and spared her sisters grief. But he also couldn't let her ride off again with only a footman as protection. Not when a murderer might be after her.
"Thank you," she whispered, her eyes shining.
He nodded shortly. "Whoever is trying to stop you—if not myself—is obviously part of this household."
"They were accidents, Tris."
"Let's not go over this again, shall we?" He raised a brow to emphasize his point. "In case someone should try to follow us, I don't want anyone to know where we're going or what we're doing."
"All right," she agreed slowly.
"We shall say you require fresh air to aid your recovery, so we're going on a picnic. A honeymoon picnic."
"I suppose it won't hurt to be cautious."
"Have you told anyone about Maude?"
"No. I've been languishing in the bedroom since the accident." When he cocked his head at her, she added, "Maude's name never came up in the kitchen."
"How about Ernest?"
"Not with him, either. The man doesn't care to talk much. Besides, we'd only just got underway when the strap on the saddle snapped. I didn't have time to say anything before, and after…well, on the ride home I didn't feel much like making conversation."
He supposed she wouldn't have—she'd have been occupied gritting her teeth against the jarring pain of that ride. "Good. Then no one has any reason to suspect we'll be doing anything besides enjoying a honeymoon picnic." He rose, yawning. He hadn't slept much last night. Having one's wife offer up a sacrifice tended to disturb a man's equilibrium. "We should both get a good night's sleep."
A hesitant smile curved Alexandra's lips. "Shall I go up and change into another of my new nightgowns? Or do you wish to come along and help me?"
"Neither. I'll be sleeping in the Queen's Bedchamber again. For your safety." He leaned and pressed a kiss to the top of her head. Hearing her disappointed sigh, he raised her chin and met her eyes. "You're still entirely too bruised and hurting for any love play. When we've finished this thing you've started, perhaps we'll both feel better."
For a long while after he left, Alexandra just sat in the dining room. She'd thought since Tris was being so cooperative, he'd want her back in his bed. And she wanted so much to be there…even if only to be held.
He was right: She was battered and bruised. But it was her heart that had taken the beating.
On her way from the dining room to the stairs, she nearly bumped into Mrs. Pawley.
"My lady! Will we be seeing you in the kitchen tonight?" The cook's blue eyes danced. "I expect we shall have a great crowd to assist in the sweet making. There are many who are sad to have missed our little impromptu party."
Alexandra hated to disappoint the staff, but a party was the last thing she felt like tonight.
"I'm afraid not, Mrs. Pawley," she said, watching the light fade from the older woman's eyes. "Perhaps another time."
"VERY FETCHING," Peggy said, eyeing Alexandra's chemise-clad form in her dressing room the next day. Alexandra blushed, knowing the new garment was all but transparent, but Peggy only smiled. "I'm so pleased to see that you're feeling more the thing today."
"Oh, I truly am." Alexandra wondered at her maid's sudden good mood, but she wouldn't risk ruining it with any questions. "I'm going on a picnic today!" she said brightly instead. "What do you expect I should wear to picnic with my husband?"
"With your husband?" Peggy flipped through a few dresses, then held up a pretty blue frock for Alexandra's approval. At her nod, the maid started toward the bedroom, slanting a sly glance over her shoulder. "Aren't the two of you rather estranged?"
Alexandra sighed, supposing their separate sleeping arrangements had prompted much speculation belowstairs. It was so tempting to tell Peggy the truth about everything, but she'd promised Tris she would stick to their story. "I'm hoping a picnic will help us reconciliate," she said carefully. "And—"
A knock at the door interrupted her.
"Yes?" she called, hurrying into the dress.
Tris poked his head in. "Mrs. Pawley has requested your silver basket to fill with our picnic luncheon."
A clever ruse to support their story. Still unbuttoned, she fetched the basket and brought it to him. "Please ask Mrs. Pawley to include some lemon puffs," she said, thinking she needed some sweets to bring to Maude. "I haven't found a chance to even try them yet."
"Will
