Matilda exhaled a shaky breath, an uncertain smile forming. “I am… relieved to hear that.”
“You do not sound relieved. You sound annoyed.”
“Not at all.” She moved toward him, pressing her palms to his chest. “I, too, find myself… in possession of a very great affection. I intend to give you a detailed dissection of how I feel, which might include some words that… I might like to hear, one day.”
She was almost herself again, eyes shining, plump lips stretched into a grin, and as he put his arms around her and gazed into those eyes, his fatigue retreated. She was like medicine to him, swift-working and potent.
“Great affection is enough for what I am about to ask,” she said.
He frowned. “What do you mean?”
“I wondered if you might… be inclined to share my bedchamber tonight, or I could share yours?” she whispered, hope flaring in her eyes.
In an instant, the medicine of her transformed into a poison, chilling his blood, churning his stomach. His hold on her slackened, but he could not step away, for the desk was at his back and she was in front of him.
“To sleep?” he choked.
Matilda shrugged coyly. “Or to have the wedding night we have not yet enjoyed. I have heard from my friends that it is a very important moment between man and wife.”
Albion sidestepped, letting go of her. Breathless, he walked to the nearby tray of decanters and poured himself a hearty measure of brandy. He drank it down in one gulp, all while Matilda watched. Even at a distance, he could feel her confidence cracking, and hated that he was the cause.
“We had an agreement,” he said, his stomach burning with the heat of the brandy. “The third rule—never ask about us sharing a chamber again.”
Matilda sniffed, but he did not dare look at her. If she was crying, if she saw how he was wounding her, his resolve would vanish.
“And how many of those silly rules have we flouted? How many times have we disturbed one another while at our work? How many times have you missed having one meal with me or been absent? Most importantly, how many times have we not been truly honest with each other?” she croaked. “Indeed, you are not being truly honest with me now, for you never did tell me why you do not want heirs. You said you would not discuss it.”
“I still won’t,” he replied.
He heard her footsteps coming closer. “Do I not deserve an explanation? If you have… some feelings for me, is it not the natural progression to share a bedchamber? We are not courting, we are not in a flirtation, we are not trying to deny our affections—we are married, Albion!”
“You wouldn’t understand the explanation,” he said, flinching as her hand rested on his shoulder.
She drew it back sharply. “I shall be the judge of that, for Iwouldknow the full experience of being married. If you are determined to restrict my breadth of knowledge in that regard, I deserve to know why.” She hesitated. “Is it me?”
“What? No.” He tried to reach for her, but she stepped back. “Come now, you don’t really want to be a mother either.”
Her face twisted into a mask of hurt. “Why would you say that?”
“You founded the Spinsters’ Club, Matilda. That doesn’t suggest you were keen to be either a wifeora mother.” He regretted the words as soon as they left his mouth, but that did not mean there was not some truth in them.
In many ways, he had proceeded with the arrangementbecauseshe had not seemed interested in those things. Of course, he had not expected to fall in love with her, but that had been a pleasant surprise—thiswas not.
“I would make a very poor student of science if I was not allowed to change my mind when differing evidence is set before me,” she shot back, her lower lip trembling in a manner that he could not bear.
“I don’t want to upset you,” he urged, “but I was very clear. If your mind has changed, then I’m sorry; mine hasn’t. I adore you; I am tempted by the idea of sharing your bed, but there are risks that I won’t take with you. And those risks start in the bedchamber. You should know that better than anyone.”
A pained gasp slipped from her lips. “What is that supposed to mean?”
“I’m tired,” he hurried to say, realizing he had crossed a line. “Let’s retire for the night and talk again in the morning.”
Matilda shook her head. “Did you mean my mother?”
“I don’t know what I meant. My brain is a stranger, at present,” he answered desperately. “Please, let us just retire, and we can discuss this after breakfast.”
Her eyes hardened. “Will it change anything if we discuss it after breakfast? Will your opinion suddenly alter?” She clicked her tongue. “I am no fool. You have made your thoughts perfectly clear.”
She smeared her hand across her cheek, wiping tears away, and with her head held high, marched toward the door.
