A Marriage Most Inconvenient (Inconvenient Matches Book #1)

Chapter 16: Vera

She had forgotten, Minerva thought a little breathlessly, what a force of nature her husband truly was. Four days had passed since their guests had left, leaving only a week until her husband left. Four days which they had spent successfully avoiding each other, except for when they crossed paths in their shared study. Today, while she had just been leaving for the orphanage, he had sent a footman requesting her presence in the study. When she had entered, she had found that they were not alone; two uniformed gentlemen stood in attention at the back of the study while her steward trembled slightly as the imposing figure of her husband was flaying him with a threatening perusal, a panther sizing up its prey. So he had managed to find some irrefutable proof. At her entry, he rose politely and motioned her to join him on the sofa next to him. Vera caught her breath at the magnificent figure that he cut in the midnight blue ensemble he had chosen, the only thing white was the shirt he wore beneath his coats and the crisp cravat around his neck. It somehow enhanced his dark beauty all the more. The undeniable fury in his expression made her legs quiver, but not with fear. Arousal thrummed through her blood, hot and undeniable as she felt heat pool between her legs. His absolute power, his masculinity called to something base and intrinsic in her.

Is that an invitation to prove you wrong? His deep timbre reverberated through her, the wickedness his offer promised making her ache most pleasurably.

Dash it, she did not want to imagine slowly stripping him of his stuffy layers and seeing exactly what it took to drive her ever-so-composed husband mad. Christ, his shoulders. And his thighs. She shot an irritated look heavenward, knowing full well that God would be enjoying Himself immensely. Devil take it, she did not want to find him mouth-wateringly attractive, but here she was, contemplating the flavor of his kiss. It would likely be spicy, tasting of brandy. Jesus, she was pathetic. She dug her fingernails into her palm before she could regret refusing his kiss at the orphanage.

'Thank you for joining me, Your Grace. I was told you were on your way to a picnic, so I shall endeavor to keep this brief.' He took her hand and waited until she had lowered herself into the chair next to him. Was it just wishful thinking or had his hand lingered just a split second longer than necessary?

And why the devil would you be wishing for his touch? Get a hold of yourself, you randy woman.

'I was happy to oblige, Ben- er- Your Grace.' She corrected hastily. He would not like for her to refer to him with such frankness in front of these strangers, she was sure. English rules were remarkably stupid, and she did not pay much mind to them anymore but she did not wish to undermine him in his confrontation with the potentially thieving steward. Benedict turned his attention back towards the man who was tugging at his neckcloth and sweating profusely.

'So, Mr. Fielding. I assume you know why you are here?'

'Haven't a clue, Your Grace.' The steward's response was surprisingly even, in spite of the hundred other ways he was making his discomfort known. The sweat beading on his brow, the perceptible tremble of his hands, the impatient tapping of his foot.

'Did you know-' Benedict's face curved into a lethal smile as he reclined casually into his chair, a king before his subjects. '-that my secretary was arrested yesterday in London? He fleeced my wife of seven thousand pounds.'

'Dear heavens! What a blackguard!' Replied the steward, his face pale but his indignation almost convincing. Vera felt her mouth curve in distaste. Why, the gal! Lying, cheating, son of a bitch!

'He was your distant cousin, I believe?'

The steward blanched. Vera briefly saw something dark flicker behind his eyes. 'A mere coincidence, I assure you, Your Grace.'