Page 30 of A Necessary Wife

“I will write to my steward tomorrow and ask for assurances,” he promised.

“It is not the same as seeing them with my own eyes, in my new home,” she noted, and Milo felt guilt slice through him again.

He had not considered that her great eagerness for her new home was as important to her as the getting of children.

He was also not sure what to do about the latter, either, to be honest. The consummation of their marriage had been awkward. Future bedroom encounters might always be, too. “How can I make it up to you?”

Amelia sighed. “I don’t know.”

“Would it help to stay angry with me?”

“Probably not,” she admitted with a shrug.

He moved toward her, tightening his coat around her shoulders, but only held her in place lightly. “I’m glad, because I’ve found I dislike being at odds with you.”

She met his gaze. “Did you expect me never to oppose you?”

He moved a little closer. “Perhaps I was lulled by your quick decision to accept my offer of marriage.”

“I’m certain we will often disagree in the years ahead,” she warned. “You too easily confuse me for a wallflower.”

“Years together sounds nice,” he murmured, tightening his grip on the coat, and thereby, Amelia. “Can I ask a favor?”

“That depends on what you want now,” she hedged.

He smiled at her cautious response. “Can we agree to always try to resolve our differences before we say good night to each other?”

Her eyes narrowed.

“My late wife…” He shrugged. “She used our arguments to punish me. She wouldn’t speak with me for days on end if I disagreed with her, and…well, it wasn’t a pleasant experience being denied a place in our bed. I would like not to be banished to sleep in the hall again.”

She nodded slowly, and her hand shot out to rest against his chest. “I am a grown woman, not a silly child who pouts and throws tantrums when I don’t get my way. But I will not be silent when you make decisions I disagree with.”

“I expect nothing less. I did not want a wallflower for a wife,” he promised. “I chose a woman who knows what she wants, and what she doesn’t.”

Amelia inclined her head. “You did, indeed.”

Milo breathed a sigh of relief that their disagreement could be so quickly resolved through discussion rather than the alternative. He shuddered as Amelia caught hold of his waistcoat.

She lifted her face to his. “Are you cold?”

“No,” he whispered. Proximity to Amelia when alone seemed to generate an unexpected amount of heat. “Are you?”

“My face is cold,” she warned, wrinkling her nose.

Milo cupped her face in both hands to warm her skin. But she slipped away from his touch.

He let her retreat, knowing his behavior wasn’t entirely forgotten or forgiven…but he was a little disappointed. He liked touching her, but he would never force the issue.

Instead, he leaned against the balustrade and looked over into the dark of the Stapleton Estate. His childhood home was his future. Amelia was part of that future now, but he had done as much making up as he dared for one night. “Perhaps we would talk more about this tomorrow, after I find my brother.”

Amelia moved to stand at his side, clutching his coat tighter about her shoulders. “Is there a particular reason your brother wants to live in the woods when he has a perfectly good room here?”

“He was like me, a widower. However, my brother and his late wife never lost their love for each other. He cares not for women nor the advantages of wealth. I fear my brother cares not for anything at all, now that she is gone. For a time, I felt that way too.”

“What changed for you? Why did you really decide to marry again?”

“Last Christmas, watching my daughter long for a mother of her own to share the merriment with and to shower her with attention.” He faced Amelia. “We were all gathered around in the drawing room, opening presents together. The Raffertys were here. Rafferty’s daughter from his first marriage, Ava, is quite taken with her new mother, my sister, Becca, and I watched as my daughter saw them fussing over something quite trivial. It broke my heart that Lucy had no one to fuss over her that day, or belong to. Not that my first wife had done much fussing over either of our children while she lived. But still…”