The Marriage Act by Alyssa Everett Page A

worth the delay it would pose in my journey.”
    “She made eyes at me!”
    “I don’t care if she licked your damned face. You’re going to apologize and then you’re going to leave this inn as fast your legs will carry you. Understood?”
    The man shot Caro a poisonous look but nodded in fearful assent.
    “First the apology,” Welford said.
    “I beg your pardon,” the man said, his eyes darting briefly in Caro’s direction. “I misread the situation.”
    “Grievously,” Welford added.
    “Yes. Grievously.”
    Welford released him. The man quickly broke into a run, disappearing around the corner of the inn without a second glance.
    Welford turned to her, unhurriedly straightening his coat, once again his cool, unruffled self. “Did he hurt you?” he asked in his normal tone of voice.
    “No,” Caro answered, shaken. “But he was being impertinent.”
    “If I may offer a piece of advice, the next time you give a man a look of invitation, strive for the discriminating air of an exclusive Cyprian rather than the ready availability of a Covent Garden lightskirt.”
    “I never gave him a look of invitation,” she said angrily. The scowl that flashed quickly across Welford’s face told her it was no use denying it, not when he’d seen her with his own eyes. “Oh, for heaven’s sake. If I took any notice of him at all, it was only meant as a game.”
    “Even games have rules, and some men have a troubling tendency to expect women to play by them.”
    Her cheeks burned. She felt humiliated, vexed with herself, and—despite his having saved her from heaven-knew-what vile jeopardy—even more vexed with Welford. Once again she was at fault, and once again he was making sure she knew it. He treated her as if she were a child and he were her father, except that her actual father would never have spoken to her with half so much condescension after the fright she’d just taken.
    And the most infuriating part was that she couldn’t even defend herself as she longed to, because she
had
behaved like a child. What had made her give in to such a foolish impulse, trading looks with a strange man purely to annoy Welford? It had been a rash, thoughtless act of mutiny. She would’ve admitted as much, if she hadn’t known Welford would seize on her admission and use it against her like a club.
    She let out her breath in a tension-laden sigh. “I’m tired, and I’d like to get an early start tomorrow. I’m going up to retire.”
    “I was about to do the same.”
    He accompanied her upstairs. Their room was The George’s best, boasting a cozy fire and a wide feather bed. Caro was still surveying the furnishings as Welford began to undress, stripping off his coat.
    She cast a surreptitious glance his way, at his broad shoulders and lean build. What was she to do without her maid to help her? Welford might be able to manage on his own, but his clothes buttoned in the front.
    Perhaps she could sleep fully dressed. No, that made no sense, not when she was going to have to wash up and change at some point. She fumbled for the back of her gown, wishing Mary were not recovering miles away.
    Welford glanced in her direction and caught her struggling to unfasten her bodice. “Do you need help?”
    As much as she wished to deny it, she was finding it impossible to manage alone, and she didn’t relish the idea of sleeping on a row of buttons all night. “If it’s not too much trouble.”
    A moment later he was behind her, making an easy job of the task, his hands as quick and impersonal as if he were dealing cards. “There.”
    How many women had he undressed in the years since their wedding? She hadn’t heard any rumors of mistresses or affairs, but then, he’d been half a continent away. She had the sense Vienna was a sophisticated, pleasure-loving city, and Welford was still young and vigorous, whatever her first impression of him had been.
    Her back to him, she drew her dress off over her head, then draped it