Provocative in Pearls by Madeline Hunter

but then, he expected no less of one of Wittonbury’s properties. He judged the carpet to be from Brussels and the silk at the windows from India. The furniture was old enough to possess a nice patina, but new enough to indicate the property had been redecorated not many years ago.
    He could not help but compare it with his own property, or what was left of it. Not a thing had changed at his country seat in more than a generation, except for the Titian that had mysteriously gone missing after one of his father’s gambling disasters.
    Fortunately, his grandfather had bought well, with a good eye that equaled his extravagance. Except for some worn upholstery and drapes, the house did not look too bad because quality always holds up to time. Still, it all begged for maintenance too often deferred, and for re-modeling to bring it into the current century in both appearance and conveniences.
    The valet hummed while he pressed in the dressing room. Hawkeswell listened for other sounds, from the apartment next to his own. He had half expected Audrianna to put Verity and him at opposite sides of the house. Perhaps Audrianna had not been plotting with Verity on managing him after all.
    He left the valet to his duties, and strolled out to the corridor and down to Verity’s door. He knocked and waited a good while before the latch turned. She appeared startled to see him.
    “Have you been made comfortable?” he asked. “Are your chambers adequate?”
    “More than adequate, and I will be very comfortable, thank you.”
    Silence fell. She half hid behind the door, refusing to open it entirely.
    “Aren’t you going to invite me in?” he asked.
    “I was just about to write a letter, and—”
    “I do not have to ask, Verity. I do not have to knock.”
    She bit her lower lip, then pushed the door wide. “Won’t you please enter?”
    The main chamber seemed comfortable enough. Not quite as large as his own, it held some chairs and a large bed draped in silk the color of green apples. He went to the windows. His own had better prospects. A large tree that he had noticed grew right outside one of hers. A bird at its top chirped melodically.
    “This tree is too conveniently placed. I suspect you know how to climb trees, for all your practiced etiquette.”
    She smiled, and almost laughed. He wished she would do so. He had never heard her laugh, he was very sure.
    “I was once a good tree climber, but I was a child then.” She rose on her toes, and peered past him, out at the one in question. “I would say that is a four-minute tree for someone in practice. I, on the other hand, would probably fall and break my neck. Did you come here to judge its convenience?”
    “I came to make sure you are pleased with the accommodations, and to say that I am going to take a turn in the garden. Join me.”
    She glanced over her shoulder, to a secretaire visible in the attached sitting room. “As I said, I was going to write a letter.”
    “I think that you will enjoy the garden more. You do like them, don’t you? Gardens?”
    She flushed. “Yes, I do like them. The letter, however—”
    “Can be written tonight.” He strolled to the door, stood aside, and gestured into the hall with his arm, by way of both invitation and command.
    Whether she accepted the first he did not know. Her expression, however, indicated that she recognized the latter. She joined him.
     
     
    V erity stepped down the stone stairs, into the garden that stretched beyond the house’s veranda. Hawkeswell took her hand and guided her, to ensure she did not trip. She could hardly object to the familiarity implied by that touch, but it did disconcert her.
    She had been careless in forging their agreement about this house party. She should have found a way to make him accept that while they were here, they would act as if they were not wed at all, with all that meant, and not merely delaying the physical consummation.
    If she had been more thorough in her