Max nodded once. “I am delighted to hear it.”
If Bianca was so dedicated to her work, he would encourage her to pursue it. It did not escape Max’s mind that here was an easy way to please them both: she could continue in her glazing experiments unchecked, while he was free to improve the rest of the business.
After several silent paces, she said, with the air of one forcing herself to make conversation, “I trust you spent a pleasant day reading contracts.”
“Oh yes,” he agreed.
She eyed him warily, but he said nothing else. Let her wonder. Let her come to him, wanting more.
“You needn’t come to the factory again,” she said, facing forward.
“Why are you so keen to keep me from the factory?” he asked. “A factory which is one-quarter mine.”
“I believe Papa meant for you to be a silent partner.”
“That’s not what he told me.”
“I said,” she replied sweetly, “that’s what hemeant.”
Max smiled grimly. He knew she was wrong—he knew it was whatshepreferred, and nothing to do with her father’s wishes—but her insistence on it did drive the knife deep into his pride. “Did he? Sadly, it’s not whatImeant when I accepted it.”
“No doubt you’ll learn how to interpret his words,” she said with mock sincerity, “in time.”
“Do his remarks require a great deal of interpretation?” Max pretended to think. “Odd. It didn’t strike me as though they did. An honest, open fellow, I thought him.”
“Of coursePapais honest,” she said, casting aspersions without hesitation. “I suppose that is unusual in your world.”
Max laughed. “My world is Perusia.” And because he couldn’t resist the devil inside him, he added in a quieter tone, “And you, my dearest wife.”
Bianca gave him a jaundiced look. “Does that sort of folderol seduce ladies in London? Because I think it makes you sound an idiot.”
He grinned to hide his flash of pique. “I’ve never tried to seduce a London lady by marrying her! Who knew that’s what it took? Too late now, I suppose.”
“Yes, much too late.” Her smile was dangerous. “And it didn’t work anyway. You ought to have thought of that before wasting your chance, making a chaste marriage of business.”
“You keep saying that word,chaste,” he remarked. “I’m not entirely sure what you mean.”
She opened her mouth, blushed, and closed her mouth. “It’s when a husband and wife live separate lives. Very separate. Verywidelyseparated, in fact.” She raised her hands and held them out, two feet apart. She eyed the span, and increased it to a generous three feet. “Preferably by a league or more.”
“Well, that’s not what we’ve got,” said Max smoothly. “Barely two hundred yards apart all day!”
“Yes, barely,” she muttered. “Tomorrow we must strive to do better.”
They had been following the path back to Poplar House, skirting the hill of Perusia Hall and winding through the trees. By now they were out of sight of the factory and all the workers leaving it, as well as hidden from view of Perusia Hall—and Poplar House. Max slowed his pace.
“You spend a great deal of time thinking about the state of our marriage,” he said.
His wife rolled her eyes, but he noted that her steps also slowed. “Far too much. Would that I could stop thinking of it entirely, or better yet, forget it ever happened.”
He laughed. “Perhaps you ought not to stop thinking about it, but changehowyou think about it.”
She raised her brows. “And become a simpering, silly bride who never puts up a word of protest to anything you say?Tsk, Mr. St. James.” She shook her head. “Wouldn’t you find that perishingly dull?”
“I would,” he agreed. “I like a woman of passion and spirit.”
“But not to marry, obviously,” she said, with a sly glance at him.
“Perhaps not originally, but Fate seems to have guided me in that direction.” He gave her another smile. “Just as it did to you.”
