Chapter 12 #2
To Frederick’s surprise, Alice did choose to join him for dinner, wearing a satin gown in a rather daring shade of yellow.
It ought to have made her look sallow, but instead, it made the chestnut of her hair gleam and her skin glow.
She was one of the most glorious ladies he had ever seen, and although she often looked at him with the fire of hatred in her eyes, he now saw other things.
Confusion, mainly. Perhaps she would never come to love him, but she might in time come to not hate him.
A man could have a worse lot in life.
She finally glanced up to where he stood in the doorway to her dressing room, and her back stiffened. “What are you doing here?”
“I thought I might help you downstairs.”
“I don’t need help. And I especially don’t want your help.” She had refused to let him touch her after the carriage incident, even though he knew her leg pained her more often than the physician came to ease it. Even the exercises only seemed to help a little.
But he would not force her. All he needed to know was that she was willing—the rest would come with time.
Maybe.
So he hoped, anyway.
“I know it goes against every instinct in your body to allow another person to assist you in any way, but this bears no reflection on your injury,” he coaxed, coming forward and draping the shawl her maid handed him over her shoulders.
“I would escort any wife of mine down the stairs to greet our guests.”
She narrowed her eyes. The last few weeks had done wonders for her complexion, color blooming in her cheeks, and he found it hard to look away now. “And how would you know that? Do you have other wives hiding away somewhere I should know about?”
“I don’t believe so.” He offered her a gallant bow. “Although I am happy to search the premises to be sure.”
“You are ridiculous.”
“Perhaps. Are you ready?” He looked her over. “You look beautiful.”
“False flattery is wasted on me.”
“I never intended it to be false.”
“No, you never had to. The mirror tells me as such.” She moved to walk around him, leaning heavily on her stick, but he caught her chin.
“You know I don’t believe that,” he muttered, the merest growl in his voice.
The dress sunk low at her bodice, revealing the darkened dip between her breasts.
He longed to run his hands over the swell of them.
By God, she was beautiful, and the more time he spent with her, the more his body hungered for hers.
“Or would you like me to remind you how beautiful I truly think you look?”
Her eyes flared, but although indignation filled them, he also saw the flare of desire, the rush of heat that brought more color to her cheeks.
Satisfied, he took a step back. Yes, she disliked him, and she had every right to—but she also wanted him.
That in itself felt like a victory.
Particularly when she was wrapping herself up and presenting herself as the most delectable treat. One he did not want to share with the gentlemen soon to arrive. At the thought, he frowned and adjusted her shawl so it covered more of her chest.
She glanced down at herself, then back up at him, and there was a challenge in her eyes now. She adjusted herself so the shawl was in its original position and her decolletage was on full display, and extended her hand to him.
“Your Grace,” she smiled provocatively. “Shall we attend to your friends?”
He couldn’t help a small smile at her daring, and took her hand in his, tucking it into his arm. “Of course.”
“Tell me a little about your political aspirations,” she said.
“Why, so you can ensure they won’t come to fruition?”
“If you suspect me of that, why invite me at all?”
“Need I remind you that you’re my wife? And as my wife, you have a right to these events if you should so choose. I would not deny you.”
She frowned at him. “Even if I were to act against you?”
“That is your decision, not mine.”
“And you would do nothing to stop me?”
He held her gaze steadily at the top of the stairs. “You accused me of acting in my own interests by helping you. Perhaps this will show you that I am determined to offer you what I can even when it threatens to damage my own interests.”
Her breath caught and her cheeks flushed.
She turned back to the stairs, chewing her lip, and he studied her profile as he helped her down the steps, content to leave the conversation there.
Of course, he doubted that she would stand up and argue with a collection of lords, particularly when they were debating political matters.
But he did rather wonder what her active mind would make of it all.
“My ambitions are to finally take my place in politics and bring about reform.” He slanted a glance at her. “Not everyone in there agrees.”
“About what in particular?”
“Well, our voting system is neither fair nor representative. It is very easy for me to sit back and do nothing about it, but while I have a voice in politics, there are many who do not.” He pursed his lips.
“And in my experience, owning land is not the only valuable qualifier to know if a man has the best interests of the country at heart.”
She was looking at him as though she had never seen him before. “You wish to overthrow your own place in the world?”
“Is that what you think? If we were to extend the vote to all men, would that really be so bad?” he asked.
“Even men who have no training in politics?” she replied.
“Speaking from experience, my dear,” he said dryly, “there are plenty of men like that within the gentry.”
“But why does it benefit you?”
“We all remember France. The ordinary people cannot be silenced. They must have a choice. Reform is an easier path to take than something more drastic. We still have nobility, and we still have a king. It would be a shame to lose both merely because we are too short-sighted to know when our people will no longer stand for corruption within our government.”
“Those are strong words,” she murmured, as though testing him.
“They are.”
“And you believe them?”
“If I did not, we would not be having this conversation.” They reached the bottom of the stairs, and he looked at her. “How are you? Are you well? Does your leg pain you?”
“No more than usual.” The mention of her leg sent heat flooding her cheeks once again, and he wondered if she, too, was thinking of that time in the carriage.
Seeing that it put a new spin on the way she had been avoiding him.
It was clear she wanted to despise him. And if anything made her less inclined to do so, she avoided it. A form of protection, he supposed.
He would break down those walls brick by brick if he had to.
He did feel strongly about political reform, but more than that, he wanted to live a life worthy of respect. To prove to her—and anyone else watching—that he was not the same man who had caused the accident all those years ago.
He might never be able to erase what he had done, but he would take steps to repair the fallout of his damages. Somehow, in time, the good he did would outweigh the bad.
And one day, he hoped his fiery wife might see that.