Mistress by Marriage by Maggie Robinson Page B

of me, will you? Garrett is a friend, a business partner, no more.”
    “But he would like to be something more, wouldn’t he? He’s rich. I suppose you could call him handsome. I wonder why it is you’ve suddenly become so proper.” He watched her flush and felt her nails dig into his chest.
    She sent him an equally piercing look. “I never mix business with pleasure.”
    “Ah, so you’d sleep with a stranger. Or perhaps an old acquaintance.”
    “Or an old husband,” she said tartly.
    “Touché.” He let her go. The shadows had deepened; it was nearing dusk. They had slept much longer than he thought. Any acrobatics in front of the mirror would have to be postponed. She left the bed in an instant and wrapped herself back in the garish robe.
    “Really, Edward, since we are to be lovers, you’ll need to give me some sort of schedule. I do have a life, you know.”
    “I’ll have to consult my calendar and get back to you. I should think four or five times a week should do the trick.”
    “Four or five times!” she screeched.
    “Oh, all right, more often if I must.”
    She simply stared at him openmouthed as if he’d grown an additional penis.
    He was gratified that he’d robbed the famous author of words. “We’ll settle for six. Thursdays off, since that’s your entertaining day. You might be too fatigued from all the gossip with your neighbors, and I prefer you to be fully responsive.”
    “You—you—I will not, I can not give six nights a week to you!”
    “No one said anything about nights. There are tedious social events I must attend before I leave for the country. As I said, I’ll consult my schedule and write down the dates and hours. You’ll still have plenty of time to write your books. And it won’t be for very long, not even a month. We’ll see how I feel in the fall when I return from Christie Park.” He waited for her to say something, do something, throw something, but she stood absolutely still. “That’s that, then. As it happens, I have an engagement this evening. And I suppose I should check up on Ned and give him a piece of my mind.” He rose and began to dress, keeping an eye on Caroline in case he had to parry an attack. But she was curiously, disconcertingly passive. Her silence unsettled him more than he liked to admit. He was used to her tirades of temper. He’d seen more than enough of them in the year they were married.
    Once he had tied his cravat to his satisfaction, he kissed her quickly on a pale cheek. “Good-bye. I’ll be in touch.” He had nearly reached the bottom stairstep when he heard a remarkably vile curse and a satisfying crash. Something wooden this time, he thought. No doubt he’d find out what it was the next time he came to call.
     
    “Hell and damnation!” She heaved the carved jewel box against the wall. There was an explosion of topaz and pearls, amethysts and aquamarines, a diamond or two. Caroline was disgusted. Her room looked like a battle zone. The sheets were still balled in a corner and she’d already cut her foot on a Meissen fragment from the earlier vase mishap. She’d been fond of the jewel box, too, a long-ago Christmas gift from her brother. He’d teased her that she’d have a proper place for her paste jewelry, and that one day their fortune would improve and he’d buy her something real. Her gemstones were real now, if mostly inexpensive, but her fortune was as lamentable as ever.
    She limped back to the bed, not having the energy to strip it again. Edward’s spoor was everywhere. She’d better get used to it. Apparently he would be tormenting her on a daily basis. Except for Thursdays. She let out a howl and threw herself facedown on the pillow.
    There came the tentative tap on the door. Poor Lizzie. Caroline had made a dreadful mess, and it wasn’t fair to make her maid pick up after her. “I’m all right. Go away, Lizzie.”
    “Are you sure, Lady Christie? It sounds—it sounds as if something broke