The Mister I Married (Romancing the Rogue #3)

Chapter Sixteen

“Another fine Berkshire morning,” Alex said to no one in particular as he walked the Bristlewood grounds with Prescott and Gracie later that week.

In his opinion, of course, every morning in Berkshire was fine, no matter the time of year. He’d lived here his whole life, and still the beauty in its hills and forests took his breath away. It was the only home he’d ever known and the only one he wanted.

He wanted Emmy to love it, too, and he’d asked her to join him and the dogs on their walk this morning, but she’d declined. She’d been working so hard on this dinner party of hers, and he’d thought the fresh air would do her some good.

Selfishly, he’d also wanted to spend some time alone with her.

He saw her nearly every morning at breakfast, and then again each evening at dinner, but the only time he had her all to himself was at night in her bedchamber. And then he left to sleep in his own.

He wanted more than that.

With a heavy sigh, Alex slowed to a stop on the lawn and passed his gaze over the area in search of the dogs. He found Prescott chasing after a butterfly, though it was a halfhearted pursuit at best for he was no hunting hound. Gracie, ever the responsible older sister, was lying in the grass, supervising.

Slipping his hands into the pockets of his overcoat, Alex tipped his head back and closed his eyes, letting the sun warm his cheeks.

Emmy’s face ghosted through his mind, and again he thought back to their talk in his study. To the flicker of heat in her eyes, and the way she’d leaned into him, asking for a kiss.

He’d denied her, though—and himself—and it was as much an attempt to respect her boundaries as it was to protect himself against another rebuff.

Still, his heart had grasped onto that moment, that flicker of desire in her eyes, and the subsequent disappointment when he’d denied her. It refused to let go now. That moment had given him hope—false, perhaps, but he could not quash it, so he had decided to give in to it instead.

He was done fighting the wants of his heart. He wanted more from Emmy, and he was prepared to work for it. He would not make demands of her, or pressure her, or try to bribe her. There would be no emotional manipulation. He meant to woo her, plain and simple.

After he and the dogs had finished their walk of the grounds, they returned to the house. Alex went in search of his wife and found her precisely where he’d expected to: in the rose salon with Tess.

Unnoticed, he paused in the doorway and watched the two of them together—Emmy curled up on the sofa, studying her plans for the dinner menu, while Tess sat cross-legged on the floor, flipping through a magazine laid out on the sofa table.

Alex smiled. His sister appeared to be in the throes of a monumental decision on how she ought to style her hair for the dinner party. The upcoming dinner was all they’d talked of these last few days, and he might have been sick to death of hearing about it if they weren’t so excited.

Even his father seemed to be looking forward to it, which came as no small surprise. Alex had assured him it would be a casual, intimate affair with only a handful of their neighbors, and his father had barely batted an eye.

He only hoped this sanguine attitude would last all the way through the dinner party. He wanted the evening to go well, for Emmy’s sake, and for his sister’s, too. Tess seemed so excited to get to know her neighbors and make new friends.

He wished he’d realized sooner how much she wanted this, but it had honestly never occurred to him. She’d never mentioned it, and he’d never thought to ask. He should have.

Yet another reason to appreciate his wife and the changes she brought.

“Here you two are,” he said, strolling into the room. “How is your dinner party coming along?”

Emmy sighed. “There is still much to do, but I think it is coming along well.”

“It is coming along marvelously well,” Tess assured her before turning to Alex. “Now, what say you, brother? The plaits or the ribbons?”

She held out the magazine for his inspection and Alex leaned down to study the fashion plates. He never was entirely comfortable giving his opinion on matters such as these—surely no man was—but his sister would pester him until he gave her an answer, so finally he said, “The plaits?”

She wrinkled her nose. “Emmy said the same, but I am rather partial to the ribbons.”

Alex shrugged. “So wear the ribbons.”

“Emmy said that, as well,” Emmy intoned, her smile wry.

“So you did,” Tess said with a laugh. “I suppose I’m feeling a bit nervous about this dinner. I just want to make a good first impression.”

“And you shall,” Emmy said. “Remember, you charmed some of the most sophisticated snobs in London. Your Gladwin neighbors should be no trouble at all.”

“I hope you’re right.”

“Of course she’s right,” Alex broke in. “They will all adore you, just as we do.”

His sister smiled. “A biased opinion but reassuring all the same.”

Turning to Emmy, Alex said, “May I speak with you for a moment?” He nudged his head toward the door.

Her brow knit briefly but she nodded and rose to her feet, setting her papers on the sofa table before following him into the corridor.

“Is anything the matter?” Emmy asked as he drew her away from the door, clearly perplexed by his need for privacy.

Once he was certain they were out of earshot of his sister with the excellent hearing, he paused and turned to face her. “Everything is fine, I assure you. I only wanted to ask…” He cleared his throat nervously, resisting the urge to tug at his cravat. “I wanted to ask you if you’d like to join me for a picnic this afternoon. It’s a lovely day outside.”

Emmy blinked, obviously surprised by the invitation. “Oh. Well, I…would like to, Alex, but there is still so much to do for the dinner party. I really must keep working.”

“The dinner party is days away,” he reminded her, “and you’ve been cooped up inside this house all week.”

“The dinner party is three days away, and it will be my first as hostess. I want to do it right.”

He smiled. “It doesn’t have to be perfect, Emmy.”

“Yes, it does, Alex,” she shot back. “Or very nearly, anyway.”

She plunked her hands on her hips and frowned at him, and he returned her stare, simultaneously charmed and annoyed by her stubbornness.

“One hour,” he implored. “That’s all I ask.”

She eyed him in silence, and he could practically hear her mind toiling, weighing the impact of one lost hour of work against one disappointed husband.

Unflattering, yes, but at least she was considering it.

“I want to spend time with you, Emmy,” he said, drawing her hands in his. “Just the two of us.”

“We spend every night together, just the two of us,” she argued, though he could see she was weakening.

He gave her hands a gentle, beseeching squeeze. “Please?”

One interminable moment later, she huffed out a tiny sigh, and Alex knew he had won.

They set out from the house at half-past one o’clock, just the two of them and a large basket packed with food.

The day was a fine one, perfect for a picnic with its warm sun and cloudless sky, the gentle breeze festooned with the subtle scents of ripening summer.

Alex stole another glance at his wife, silent beside him as they walked through the grass, a folded quilt tucked up in her arms. She wore a pale green day gown but no bonnet, and her dark brown curls gleamed in the sun, her expressionless face giving no hint as to her thoughts.

Of course, he was fairly confident he knew what she was thinking about. The same thing she’d been thinking about all week: The dinner party.

He could appreciate the importance of the event, and her desire to make sure it was a success, but he hadn’t asked her on this picnic so she could ignore him.

Say something, idiot , he ordered himself. You want her thinking of you today.

He cleared his throat, searching for something to say, acutely aware of his pulse beating against his throat. Why was he so anxious? Emmy was his wife, for pity’s sake. She was already his.

Only, she wasn’t, was she? Not entirely, anyway.

He did not have her heart.

Which was precisely why he had asked her on this picnic, wasn’t it? He was going to have to earn her love, and that meant he would have to make every moment with her count, today included.

“I think Cook packed enough food to feed all of Gladwin,” he said, switching the heavy basket to his other hand. “I hope you’re hungry.”

“Well, I certainly will be after this walk.” She glanced over at him. “Just where are we going, anyway?”

“You’ll find out soon enough.”

She arched one brow, shifting the quilt in her arms. “Are we almost there, at least?”

“Have patience, my lady,” he said, battling a smile. “Enjoy this beautiful day.”

She huffed out a little sigh. “Patience is not one of my strong suits.”

“Then think of this as an opportunity for self-improvement.”

The look she gave him made him laugh out loud, and he was still chuckling a few moments later when they crested a gentle slope, and the pond finally came into view.

“Oh, how lovely,” Emmy murmured, pausing to take in the sight.

Alex nodded his agreement. He’d seen this view a thousand times before, but it still brought him pleasure—the wide expanse of deep blue water sparkling beneath the sun, cradled by wild grasses and lush weeping willows.

“I thought we could have our picnic here,” he said, leading her to a cozy spot nestled between two willows, their canopy providing both shade and privacy.

“Yes,” Emmy said. “This will do nicely.”

Alex set the basket down and the two of them spread the quilt out on the grass.

Emmy sat, curling her legs beneath her skirts while Alex collected the basket and joined her.

He began unpacking the food, a veritable feast of ham and cheese, sliced bread, apples and oranges, boiled eggs, pickled beets and a jug of lemonade.

Emmy stacked a slice of ham and a wedge of cheddar between two bread slices and ate a hearty bite. “Delicious,” she said after she’d swallowed. “I’m glad I let you drag me outside today, even if it is only for an hour. I’m starving, and this is such a lovely spot.”

Alex smiled, her words doing much to quell his worry that she would regret agreeing to the outing. “My father would bring me here sometimes when I was a boy,” he said, handing her a glass of lemonade. “To fish or work on my Latin or simply to talk.”

Emmy smiled her thanks then drank from the glass before saying, “Your father is a kind man. I like him.”

“He is kind, yes.” Alex drained his glass of lemonade then set it aside and went to work making himself a sandwich. “After my mother left, even in his grief and heartache, he never once said an unkind word about her. He always tried his best with me and Tess, though it could not have been easy. Most men in his place would have sent us away to be cared for by someone else, but he didn’t. He kept us together.”

And for that he would always be grateful. His father was far from perfect, he knew, but he was a loving man with a good heart, and he’d done his best for his family.

“He’s a good father,” Emmy said. “And he obviously loves you and Tess very much.”

Alex chewed a bite of his sandwich in silence, the salty ham and tangy cheese delighting his tongue as his thoughts turned to his wife’s upbringing and all the details he still did not know. She was a little girl of three or four when her father died, and her mother had raised her and her brother alone, but that was all she had shared of her childhood, and Alex wanted more.

“Do you remember your father?” he asked, shifting on the quilt until he was sitting cross-legged.

Emmy shook her head and set her glass of lemonade on the grass beside her. “My brother remembers him, and he and my mother talk of him often. By all accounts, he was a wonderful man, but”—she shrugged—“I have no memory of him.”

It was the same for Tess. She did not remember their mother. Alex wasn’t sure if that was a blessing or a curse.

“I remember my mother, vaguely,” he said, a hazy image of her drifting through his mind. “Her hair was long and curly, and she smelled like roses.”

Even now, after all this time, the scent still made him think of her.

“My mother smells like roses, too,” Emmy said, before claiming an apple from the basket and biting into it.

“Must be compulsory for mothers,” he replied with a smile.

“Must be.” She smiled back at him around her bite of apple, and a comfortable silence settled between them, broken only by the occasional rustling of the willows in the breeze.

“I hope I’m a good father,” Alex mused, the words slipping from his tongue almost the instant he thought them. He ate a hearty bite of his sandwich and chewed it slowly lest another rogue thought should try to escape.

“You will be,” Emmy said simply.

He appreciated the vote of confidence, and the kind assurance in her smile. He only wished he could be so certain.

“I hope you’re right,” he replied after he’d swallowed his bite. “Though I suppose we’ll find out soon enough, won’t we?”