Chapter 21
Chapter Twenty-One
C ecilia had not realized what bliss marital life could be.
During the days, she now often ran into Ian. They often ate dinner together, smiling at each other across the table. Of course, they still argued; but more playfully now. Now they had reached a better understanding of each other, they were no longer out for blood.
Instead, their arguments only served to tease the passion they would show to each other after the sun had set.
She had not known any man could be capable of making her feel this way. He took his time in exploring her, learning what made her body respond in which ways.
Sometimes she teased him more during the day in anticipation of bringing him to his breaking point. Their intimacies did not only flourish in the dark; indeed, Ian had made a point of showing his passion for her at a variety of hours.
She went to sleep in Ian’s arms more nights than not, always after having passed hours being brought to the heights of pleasure. She slept well, and deeply. When she did dream, it was only ever of pleasant things—sometimes, things that made her blush, like the feeling of Ian’s hands roaming her body; his mouth, against her lips and against her neck and in between her legs.
However, no matter how many times she went to sleep in her husband’s embrace, she always woke up alone.
There were worse things, she knew. Ian was an early riser. Perhaps he did not wish to wake her up. And he truly did have a lot of work to be done regarding the managing of the estate. The grounds were vast, and he took the work seriously.
And, of course, as happy as their marriage was, she still knew it was what it had begun as—an affair of convenience. He had not confessed his love for her, or any such thing.
She knew better than to expect a life like out of one of her romance novels.
Still, she could not deny that there were feelings forming deep within her. Something more than lust. She had grown to like Ian. More than that, she had even grown to care about it.
So it stung, a bit, to always find him gone in the morning. But then she would run into him on the estate later in the day, or find him in his office, and their delicious game of verbal foreplay would begin again, which was a most effective balm to her half-bruised feelings.
After finishing yet another breakfast alone, she took off towards his office. It had been a while since they had done much socializing with anyone but the other and their staff; a week, at least, since the night Nancy and Zachary had come to dine. Just the day before, she had received a letter from her mother, saying she missed her and hoped to see her in London soon.
Perhaps they could travel there together.
It would be a logical decision, Cecilia reasoned to herself. Surely Ian had business to tend to in the city, and certainly he would want to see Zachary, and his other friends.
The door to his office was ajar. As had become their custom, Cecilia knocked lightly on the door twice before entering. “And what business are you up to today, husband?” she asked sweetly.
Ian, seated at his desk, smiled up at her. “Ah, Cecilia. Good morning.”
A figure sat up from the chair opposite him—a well-dressed, kindly-looking figure with a tobacco pipe in hand. “Good morning, Your Grace,” he said.
Cecilia smiled at the solicitor. “Good morning, Mr. Ainsworth. Good to see you. What business brings you here?”
“Ah, you know your husband, Your Grace,” Mr. Ainsworth said, chuckling. “He is the most fastidious lord in all of England, if not all of the continent! He always insists that I go over the numbers, as though he hadn’t already perfectly balanced all of his books himself.”
“Have I really? Then what on Earth am I paying you for?” Ian laughed. His brow furrowed slightly in jest, but he still wore a smile.
He had taken on a new look of ease over the past few weeks, Cecilia noticed. Almost as though their improved marital relations had truly taken a weight off of his chest.
“Do not tell me you mind our visits all that much, Mr. Ainsworth.”
“Oh, of course not, my lord. I jest. You know I am always glad to see you thinking so seriously about your finances, and the future of the estate. It is especially important now, given your current state of affairs—and the likely future.”
“What do you mean, Mr. Ainsworth?” Ian asked.
Mr. Ainsworth took another puff of the pipe he always carried with him and smiled. “Well. I have no doubt that the estate will be overrun with little lords and ladies, before long. After all, it is no secret that the two of you would make a lovely family.”
With her arm tucked into the crook of Ian’s elbow, Cecilia felt him stiffen. She looked up, and saw his jaw had tensed, as well. He shook his head at Mr. Ainsworth.
“Why,” she began, surprised. “What is the matter, Ian?”
He cleared his throat. “Apologies, wife. Mr. Ainsworth has a tendency at times to be a bit presumptuous.”
“I do not think it is presumptuous at all to assume a married couple would have children,” she persisted, furrowing her brow. “Why are you so against the idea?”
He let out a surprised laugh. “I did not realize you were so in favor of the idea. Was it not a mere month ago that you were so vehemently insistent that you did not want children with me?”
Cecilia felt an angry flush rise to her cheeks and chest as she glanced over at Mr. Ainsworth, embarrassed that he was hearing such a personal conversation. “That was before,” she said, gritting her teeth.”
“Before what?” Ian asked innocently.
Her face grew warmer still. “Things are different now, Ian,” she said slowly. “Perhaps we could consider it.”
The two of them stared at each other for a long, long moment.
Mr. Ainsworth looked back and forth between them a few times before clearing his throat, as though to alert them to his presence. “I shall give the two of you a moment to speak privately,” he said softly, before turning to head to the door.
“Yes, that would be most agreeable, Mr. Ainsworth,” Ian said sharply.
His gaze did not leave Cecilia’s for a moment.
Once the door had shut behind Mr. Ainsworth, Ian closed his eyes, and began walking away from Cecilia. He needed to get away. He knew there was no way he could bear to have the discussion she would want to have.
“Where do you think you are going?” Cecilia cried out, surely enough. “It seems rather as though we have some important matters to discuss.”
Ian nodded, though he still could not bring himself to look at her. “Perhaps we do.”
“We agreed not to have children when relations were…poor between us.” Ian heard her footsteps behind him as she followed him to the other end of the room.
“If you do not want children, then why have we…” She cleared her throat. “Why are we doing what we have been doing?”
Ian chuckled. The sound was a bit hysterical. “For God’s sake, Cecilia. Just because we are sleeping together does not mean I want children.”
Cecilia stopped, leaning back and away from him. “Sleeping together?” she repeated slowly. The heat in her voice was slowly replaced by an icy chill. “Is that all this is to you? Is that all I mean to you?”
The fury in her expression was at the forefront, but it was all too easy to see what lay plainly behind it: pain. A deep hurt. The knowledge that he was the one who had placed it there cut Ian to the quick.
And yet, he could not help the other feeling which rose up within him: fear.
The need to run away.
So he said, “Yes”, trying to hide his fear. He rearranged his face into that cold, self-assured mask he had worn so flawlessly for so many years, and added a calm, cool tone to his voice. “Yes, of course that is all this is. What else did you think it could have been?”
Cecilia fell silent for a moment. When she tried again to speak, she seemed to stutter for a moment, searching for the words she needed. “Of course,” she finally settled on, spitting out the words as though they were something bitter and poisonous on her tongue. “Of course. I cannot believe I actually though for a minute that you…”
“That I what?” he could not help but ask.
Her eyes met his. Those piercing green eyes, soft and soulful and now so full of sorrow. “That you love me.”
Ian’s jaw tightened. “I am not the sort of man who falls in love,” he said stiffly.
Cecilia’s eyes hardened over, the softness freezing to green ice. “Of course,” she said. “It was foolish of me to think otherwise. After all, my lord, I know exactly who—exactly what —you are, and have been all along.”
Without another word, she stormed off.