Dangerous Liaison (Lords of Whitehall Book 2)

shot her a disgruntled look. “Very well, but it galls me that my mother would go to such measures to see me married. I’m in possession of fairly decent looks. I work too much which is why I haven’t married.”
“My lord, admit it. You are put out with your mother because she outfoxed you. I find her machinations to be quite delightful.” Gillian laughed.
“You can laugh because she is not your mother,” he replied. “In regard to my mother’s eccentricities, you may find this one of interest. The door to my bedchamber does not lock. Early in their marriage, after one of my parents’ more vocal arguments, my mother locked that door. My father who was equally as eccentric took great pleasure in personally removing the lock.” Moreham’s eyes were glacial. Without another word he stalked to the door. “So, for once I am in my mother’s debt. Should you require my assistance, you only have to open the door.”
Moreham stepped into his bedchamber, closed the connecting door before leaning back against the paneled portal. The sight of Gillian in the middle of the countess’ bedchamber was far too alluring.
Shaking his head, he walked across the room to peer out his window at Philly’s townhouse across the square. His mother and Philly were no doubt hiding in the morning room at the rear of the house chortling over how they had seen to his happiness. He’d wondered why Whitney had returned home early last evening. Most likely, his mother had sought out the duke and voiced concern for Miss Browning.
The damage was done. He would not allow his mother and Philly to dictate to him how he lived his life.
The question remained. How had his mother commandeered his servants to change out the draperies, bed linens and furniture without his knowledge? He was certain the bill he would receive for the transformation would be most egregious to his ledger sheet.
He undressed down to his shirt and breeches before seeking his bed. Only then did he laugh. His bride’s beautiful room screamed seduction. His innocent bride had no idea the message his mother was sending in their direction.
Sometimes, he wished he had been an orphan. Then other times he thanked the dear Lord for giving him such a loving parent.
Moreham found he was too wound up to sleep. After a half hour of recounting every conversation he’d had with Gillian. He gave him the pretense. He grabbed his banyan and did what he had promised himself he would not do…entered their sitting room. Gillian was an innocent, all alone in that room. She was his and seeing to her welfare was his duty. He knocked on Gillian’s door.
“Yes.”
He entered Gillian’s bedchamber to find her in her sitting by the fireplace wearing a dressing gown with a teacup in her hand. Her eyes big and round told him all he needed to know. She looked so lost in that huge room.
“Gillian, you are so pale. Are you unwell?” He could not stop from asking. He had caused this travesty to happen. He owed her some compassion. “Do you want to talk?”
Gillian heaved a deep sigh and motioned for him to join her. “Yes, maybe if we talk a bit, I’ll relax. My apologies for being such a ninny. Maisy helped me undress and brought me a tea tray. I hoped the tea would ease my uneasiness. New husband, new house and me. My thoughts are tumbling around in my head.”
He walked over and sat beside her. “I won’t come any closer, you have my word.” He promised.
“Oh, James—”
“—James, is it now? Not Moreham? I rather like hearing you say my name. Timmie is the only person who doesn’t call me Moreham. Even Mother calls me by my title. Timmie was a footman in the nursery when I was born. He called my Jimmie when mother wasn’t around. He still does when he is put out by my behavior. Please don’t emulate him. Doing so will get you banished to my hunting lodge in Scotland. I am an earl and I can make people disappear.”
She laughed. “You aren’t a very good earl, are you? My uncle stands in the front hall and bellows. Not a pretty sight, but his shouting gets results. I have witnessed your version of titled behavior. You shudder which I don’t think gets the same results as shouting.” She sat her cup down. “Truthfully, this room is so big. That bed could hold an entire family.” She blushed. “I sound like a little girl which I suppose I am. I’ve been coddled by my aunt and uncle my entire life.”
Moreham winced at her words. Any other woman speaking of a bed being too large would have meant the words as an invitation to join them beneath the sheets. He knew in his heart Gillian was not suggesting he join her in that bed. He also knew he would not leave her on her own on their wedding night. In the years to come, he did not want to lie to their children, any more than he’d want to tell the little urchins the truth.
“Gillian, would you like for me to sleep in here tonight?”
Her face turned even paler and her lips thinned into nothingness.
“I don’t mean in your bed with you, I can pull the coverlet off my bed and sleep on the settee.”
“Moreham–”
“–James, remember?”
Gillian gave him an impatient glare. “My lord, you can’t sleep on that settee. You will be muscle sore in the morning. No, you will sleep with me. We are married and will be married for the remainder of our days on this earth.”
The mantel clock chimed. “’Tis time I dress for our visit to Whitney Place. I could call for Maisy, but if we are to be a married couple then we should start acting like one, I say. Would you help me dress?”
She crossed the room to her bed and picked up a white muslin day gown. “I’ll don the dress