Moreham assisted Gillian into her seat. He should have left her to sit to Aunt Isadora’s right. Once more, Moreham flaunted convention and took the chair next to her at the middle of the table. He whispered, “Rather interesting guest list, wouldn’t you say?”
To Gillian’s surprise, she enjoyed the dinner. Isadora kept Colchester and Roberts to herself. Uncle Whitney ignored his friends’ wives and spent most of the meal staring at his plate or draining his wine glass. Cross engaged the baron and viscount in a conversation about the upcoming racing season. The wives of the two men gossiped, not the least bothered by the duke’s or their husbands’ blatant disregard for their company. No one commented on the absence of Lady Sylvia and Philly. No doubt, the ladies’ absence was welcomed by one and all.
Moreham saved the day by relating a humorous accounting about Philly and her penchant for feather adorned hats and an amorous goose in Hyde Park when he was a lad. To her surprise and delight, Moreham mimicked Philly’s high-pitched voice to perfection. She had never laughed so heartily. Even Aunt Isadora chuckled at Moreham’s tale.
She found the playful side of her husband enchanting. Who was she jesting? She adored every facet of his personality, even when James was his most irascible.
Time seemed to crawl by once the ladies retired to the drawing room and the gentlemen remained in the dining room for port and cigars. Never one to enjoy idle chatter, Gillian sipped her tea and listened to the other ladies’ conversations. Once the gentlemen rejoined the ladies, Aunt Isadora organized the group to play whist for the evening. After several rounds of cards, the ladies pleaded tiredness and retired for the evening. Even the men voiced a readiness for their beds.
Moreham escorted her above stairs. Gillian stepped away from him as soon as the door closed behind them.
“Well, I think that went well. I didn’t detect anyone acting anything other than a bored peer this evening. Colchester and Roberts comported themselves much as you and the other gentlemen did.” Gillian asked as she removed her jewelry.
“No, I quite agree with you. No one seemed to be contemplating overthrowing the government this evening
Moreham took off his black formal jacket then tugged at his cravat. “I think I will lay down for an hour or so until the manor quiets down.”
“I will change into a day gown so I can move around more easily. This gown is far too heavy.”
Moreham tossed his cravat aside then pulled her into his arms. When she looked away from him, he lifted her chin. “Promise me you’ll be careful, Gillian. You are only to keep an eye on the duchess.”
“I understand fully. I know this pretense of watching the duchess is more about keeping me away from the abbey. All I can promise is to stay close to Aunt Isadora’s rooms. As to my actions while doing so, you will have to trust me.”
A knock on the door stopped him from replying. She knew she had only gained a momentary reprieve. He cracked the door and a hand passed through the opening slipping a piece of paper. He closed the door then read the paper before folding it and stuffing it in the pocket of his waistcoat.
“Who sent the note? What does it say?”
“Cross’ man. Just a bit of below stairs gossip. Nothing of import.”
He nodded in the direction of their dressing room. “I must change into riding clothes.”
“I thought you were going to rest.”
Gillian wanted to know what was in that note. More than tiddle taddle from the servants’ dinner table she surmised. Why else would Moreham change his mind about resting?
Just as he started through the door, he looked back at her. “Please dearest, you must be careful. I can’t do what I must if I am worried about your welfare.”
Gillian tossed her necklace on her dressing table before giving him her full attention. “You must trust me, Moreham. Undo my gown, please.” She gave him her back.
Moreham moved over behind her and made short work of undoing her gown and unlacing her stays. She held her breath, hoping he would linger—she hungered for his touch.
His hands slid inside her gown, around her waist and pulled her back against his chest. She melted into him. How she loved this man. His quiet regard filled her with an inner peace she never knew existed. How she wished she could convince him their marriage was a boon rather than a burden.
She knew trusting others was not his strong suit. Far too used to being in command of his little band of spies, Moreham would not be happy until he caged her in one of his homes where no one could harm her. Unfortunately for her husband, she had no intention of being locked away on this night or any other.
Once, he had changed into his riding clothes, Moreham left through the servant’s door of his dressing room without bidding Gillian good night. He hated lying to her and did not trust himself to lie a second time. He winced at the memory of the trust he had witnessed in his wife’s eyes.
The first lie had been about the contents of the note in his pocket. He grimaced as he eased his way past the door to their sitting room. His guilt over not being forthcoming with Gillian ate at his gut. Moreham kept to the side of
