To Tempt a Scandalous Lord by Liana De la Rosa

Chapter Eleven

Life as Lady Inverray was not much different than her life as Lady Lindsay had been. Of course her new home was far grander than her old one, with a larger household staff to oversee, but Alicia still maintained her own schedule and correspondence. She continued to write, although she had yet to turn in a new essay to Effia.

Except now she had a handsome lord to escort her to social events.

Niall was a cordial husband to her, but he had not made any overtures that hinted he was ready to consummate their marriage. Or that he even intended to expand their interactions past friendly regard.

Alicia found it quite vexing.

After their wedding breakfast, he’d escorted her to his home on Grosvenor Square and introduced her to the staff at Campbell House. The housekeeper took her on a tour of the house while Niall tended to business, but then joined her for a pleasant dinner, where they discussed foreign affairs and laughed over the antics of common acquaintances. He walked with her back to her new chamber, and when he paused at the door, Alicia had held her breath, hoping he would provide some sign, some indication, he wished to join her for the night.

Instead, he had kissed her cheek and walked into his chamber, leaving her gaping like an idiot.

A week later, the memory of how foolish she’d been to think Niall would want to spend their wedding night together still made her purse her lips. Just because he married her, and treated her with courtesy and respect, did not mean he wanted to engage in physical pleasures. But he had indicated he needed an heir…

Maybe Niall didn’t want to make her uncomfortable in their marriage of convenience? Alicia had no qualms about consummating their marriage…but guilt tempered her desire for him. It seemed unfair to crave the attentions of a man she had skewered in her essays for months and who remained unaware of her identity as the author. Niall had been all that was gracious to her while her words had been anything but.

Alicia greeted the new day with a dull headache. Her sleep had been restless and when the sky outside her window turned from purple to light pink, she climbed from bed and dressed without Jane’s help. It was still early, but she was ready to start her day.

Stifling a yawn, Alicia made her way to the breakfast parlor. She had a routine she intended to keep, whether or not her husband joined her. So when she walked into the room, she stumbled to a halt when Niall’s imposing figure met her eye. He glanced up from the newspaper he was reading, his brows raised in surprise, before he offered her a brief nod.

After loading a plate with items from the sideboard, Alicia slid onto a chair and smiled her thanks when a footman poured her a cup of tea.

“Good morning,” Niall murmured, not looking up from the paper. “I trust you slept well.”

“I did, thank you,” she lied, lifting her cup to her a mouth for a sip.

The room was silent aside from the steady tick of the clock on the mantel and the occasional clink of bone china. Alicia lathered cream on a scone until a bold headline on Niall’s newspaper snagged her attention, and without thinking, she extended her hand.

“May I please have that section, if you’re done?”

Her husband looked up, his long black lashes fluttering in confusion. “I beg your pardon?”

“I would like to read the article about President Jackson, if you’re quite done with that section?” she said, her hand still outstretched.

Blinking at her for a long moment, Niall huffed. “If I had known you were a reader of the morning paper, I would have requested a second copy for you.”

“Well, you didn’t ask, now did you?” Before he could respond, Alicia waved away his response. “I enjoy knowing what is happening in the world. England may be an island, but there are plenty of important events happening across the waters and I want to know about them.”

“I can’t say I’m surprised.” Although there was a slight sting to his words, Alicia chose to believe Niall had not uttered them out of strife.

“If I am to be your hostess, I need to be abreast of all manner of topics, including foreign political topics. I cannot host salons and dinners for you if I am unable to converse about the issues you wrestle with every day. The very issues affecting our country.” She dropped her hands to her lap—quite dramatically, she’d admit—and sighed. “I also enjoy learning about what issues concern our allies. It reminds me that England’s trials are not aberrations. But if you do not approve, I can always read the papers when you are away.”

Because she was still going to read them.

From the corner of her eye, she glimpsed the marquess grab his napkin and swipe at his mouth in a rush. He was not as stoic and unmoved as he liked to appear. Good. Alicia wanted him to be just as unnerved with her sitting at his breakfast table as she was to sit there.

“Stewart, please ensure her ladyship has her own paper in the mornings.” Grabbing the front section, Niall slid it across the table to her. “Until then, here you go. Try not to wrinkle the edges.”

“Of course,” she declared, offering a polite smile. While holding his gaze, she grasped the section in her hands and folded the sides over each other until only the article about President Jackson was in view.

Niall’s lips twitched just so, and she couldn’t tell if he was annoyed or amused. The part of her that desired to keep him on his toes hoped it was both.

The room was silent for a time, as each ate and read.

Alicia resisted the urge to look at him to see what he was reading, and feigned an intense interest in the article. Even so, trying to attend to news about the presidential election in the States was next to impossible when seated across from her distracting husband.

Awareness of his every move, his every breath, pulsed along her skin. Alicia knew when he took a sip of coffee, when he bit into a slice of bacon, when he patted his mouth with a napkin. The way in which he licked his finger before turning a page had her shifting in her seat.

A thrum of attraction heated her veins, and her hands crushed the newspaper as she fought against her body’s reaction and her own lack of concentration.

“My, that article must be particularly frustrating.”

Jerking her eyes to him, she found Niall watching her with arched brows. Glancing down, she realized she had rendered portions of the article unreadable. Stifling a sigh, she attempted to smooth out the wrinkles as best she could. “Yes, well, I have found many of President Jackson’s policies…uncouth.”

“Uncouth?” His dark head tilted to the side. “How so?”

“He strikes me as a man determined to do as he pleases without regard for the people he was elected to represent.” Alicia flicked her fingers. “For a country that fought a war to free themselves from sovereign rule, they seem to have no issue with re-electing a man who routinely shows autocratic tendencies.”

“I suppose you aren’t a fan of President Jackson, then?”

Alicia pursed her lips. “I don’t believe it’s very smart to be a fan of politicians.”

He tilted his head. “What do you mean?”

“What I mean is that politicians work for the people.” She lifted a shoulder. “How is the public to hold them accountable for their work, or lack thereof, if they’ve put them on a pedestal?”

Niall made a humming sound in the back of his throat, his eyes narrowing just so as he studied her. “That sounds like something that chapbook writer would say.”

The bite of scone she’d just taken became lodged in her throat, and Alicia choked, tears gathering in her eyes. Grabbing her napkin, she held it to her face to hack her coughs into the linen, but also to shield herself from him.

It was an innocuous comment, she assured herself. There was no possible way he knew.

“Mo chreach, are you all right?” he asked, pushing his chair back and rising to his feet. In a moment, Niall was crouched before her, his gray eyes wide with concern.

Alicia nodded, still hiding behind the napkin. “I simply swallowed incorrectly. How clumsy of me.”

A smile tugged on the corners of his mouth. “You’re graceful in all things, my lady, even as you choke and gasp for breath.”

She huffed a laugh. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Sometimes, yes I am.”

Before Alicia could question that, Niall rose and walked back to his seat. Picking up his own cup of tea, he studied her over the rim but kept his silence.

Alicia carefully folded her napkin, and placed it on the table next to her plate, hoping he didn’t notice how her hands trembled. How was she going to continue her writing while under the same roof as the subject of her past criticisms? Abruptly, sentences she’d written, arguments she had made about his campaign and voting record, flashed like overly bright sparks in the darkness of her mind, and she clamped her eyes closed against them. Remorse burned in her chest and licked up her throat, and she reached for her teacup, gulping down a large mouthful.

“Feel better?”

Slowly opening her eyes, Alicia nodded. “Somewhat.”

He nodded. “It appeared my remark about the chapbook writer surprised you.”

Of course he noticed. Her new husband was many things, astute being one of them.

Alicia reached for blitheness when she said, “As I know you’re not particularly fond of the anonymous writer, the comparison caught me off guard.”

“I may not like the man for tossing out criticisms from behind the veil of anonymity, but it does not mean I think all his claims or arguments are meritless. It’s obvious, is it not, that the man is intelligent and shrewd.”

Licking her lips, she nodded. “I believe it very admirable you can hold such an opinion of the writer after what he’s written about you.”

“Yes, well,” he snorted, “you are to thank for that.”

She jerked her chin back. “I am?”

“You are.” He dropped his gaze to his coffee cup, spinning the dark liquid around until it threatened to slosh over the lip. “I’ve tried to think less about my injured pride and more with an eye to learn.”

She blinked rapidly as she digested his words. Surprise, esteem…shame warred for supremacy in her chest.

Niall leaned forward suddenly, his gray gaze piercing. “If someone were to critique you in a chapbook, what would they say?”

Swallowing, Alicia dropped her gaze to her lap. What an uncomfortable question to consider. But if Niall could be self-reflective, so could she.

“I believe they would say I can be single-minded, intent on one thought or idea, to the detriment of others. They would probably say I can be pigheaded and uncompromising, at times, because I’m convinced of the rightness of my actions or beliefs.”

“Single-minded and pigheaded you say?” Niall chuckled, the sound like warm honey. “Surely he would have some redeeming qualities to write about?”

“Would he?” Niall’s expression darkened, but before he could respond, Alicia interjected, “Perhaps the author could report that I am loyal and trustworthy. Observant. Dedicated to a task or cause.”

Niall nodded slowly. “Admirable traits, indeed.”

“I’m happy you agree.” Alicia placed her napkin on the table and stood. “In truth, I find I quite like myself, and am relieved I don’t have to rely on that chapbook author to praise me in order to see my worth.”

A smirk briefly brightened his handsome face.

“I hope you have a good day, my lord,” she said, dipping her head politely and heading to the door.

When Alicia reached the interior of her room, she groaned, pressing her head against the closed door. How was she ever going to survive this marriage with such a secret hanging over her head?

…

“My lord? My lord, did you hear me?”

Niall blinked as he met his secretary’s questioning gaze. What had the man said? Something about the language on the Poor Law Amendment Act? His upcoming appointment with Lord Matthews? He glanced at the clock on his desk and blinked. Three hours had passed since his breakfast with Alicia and he’d been so caught up replaying their conversation, he couldn’t account for where the time had gone.

He scrubbed a hand down his face. “I’m sorry, Murray. Please repeat what you were saying.”

The younger man smiled indulgently. “You have a lot on your mind, your lordship.”

One would think any number of things occupied his thoughts, from his bid for Prime Minister to the lobbying he would need to do to ensure the Poor Law Amendment Act passed.

Yet, all he had been able to think of was his new wife. Of how her dark eyes had sparkled when she’d departed the breakfast parlor that morning.

They were a week into their marriage, and he was uncharacteristically flustered.

Ever since their wedding breakfast, he had tried to give Lady Lindsay—Inverray—space to come to terms with their new marriage. Yet try as he might, Niall was struggling to keep his distance. On more than one occasion he’d found himself standing outside the door that connected their chambers, his hand suspended in the air, warring with whether he should knock. Ready and eager to touch his bewitching new wife, Niall struggled to focus on his daily tasks.

And that scared him.

None of this was going according to plan. None of it.

Niall had gained success as an MP by pushing aside his emotions and focusing on the work. On the negotiations. His new, fledgling feelings for Alicia made him vulnerable. Unsure of himself. He knew that to maintain his customary taciturnity he needed to avoid her…but how was he to do that when she lived right under his nose? Escape was an impossibility.

“Lord Matthews sent around a note asking to move tomorrow’s appointment up by a half hour’s time,” Murray intoned, snagging Niall’s attention.

He groaned. “I had intended on stopping by Little Windmill House between the committee meeting and our appointment. Have you responded to him yet?”

The secretary hesitated. “I’ve written the response, but didn’t dare send it without your approval.”

“Good man.” Niall snatched a piece of parchment from Murray’s neat pile and quickly scratched out a note. “Have this note delivered to him instead.”

Murray took it and tapped it against the back of his hand. “May I, my lord?”

“Of course.” Niall nodded. “You might as well check my spelling and grammar. I know those things are important to you.”

“They should be important to you as well,” Murray mumbled, unfolding the note. “As a Scot, you already have prejudice to overcome and it’s wise not to give them more reasons to look down on you.”

Niall grunted his approval. This was why the man had worked for him for the last four years. Murray was intelligent, well-read, and hardworking, but he was also unafraid to point out areas Niall could improve upon. He suspected Alicia would like him.

And just like that, his wife was in his thoughts again.

He grit his teeth as he attempted to banish her.

“Do you think it wise to request Lord Matthews meet you at the orphanage?” Murray twisted his mouth. “The viscount prefers to conduct business in his home, as I’m sure you know.”

“I do know. But if the man wants to change our agreed-upon time, he needs to meet me on my terms. I have business to attend to at Little Windmill, and I will not miss it. Even for him.”

Murray huffed a breath. “What could be so important you would risk Lord Matthews’s annoyance?”

“The children are performing As You Like It, and I promised I’d attend.”

“That sounds…” Murray scratched his chin. “Well, that sounds charming.”

“Of course it does, and it will be charming.” Niall crossed his arms over his chest and reclined in his chair. “Matthews has had me dancing to his tune since I stood for my first borough. I refuse to give him leave to yank my strings anymore.”

His secretary was silent for a long moment and then nodded. “Bravo, my lord. The viscount is an important ally, but he should never be your dictator.”

“I’m so glad you agree, Murray,” he remarked drily.

The man had the wits to blush.

“If the note meets with your standard of approval, please ensure he receives it.” Niall snorted. “The last thing I need is for him to claim he didn’t know about the change in plans.”

“If his lordship claims ignorance of the location change, it will not be because he didn’t receive this note.” Murray straightened his cravat. “I’ll instruct a footman to deliver it straight away.”

Niall sighed as he watched him walk out the room. He had only an hour or so before he needed to leave for Westminster, and the thought brought a scowl to his face. He had slept poorly, and would much rather stay in and rest.

Great deeds are done by men who accomplish ordinary deeds every day, he repeated to himself. Squaring his shoulders, Niall scribbled notes for his upcoming meetings, doing his best to focus his thoughts. By the time Murray returned, he had read through a draft proposal and notated some items for the author, and was feeling much more like himself. He couldn’t allow his bewitching new bride to monopolize his wits any longer.

“The note has been sent,” Murray announced as he walked back into the room.

“Excellent.” Niall considered the items in front of him until a thought suddenly occurred to him. “One additional item. Do you know…if her ladyship has been invited to attend the performance at Little Windmill tomorrow?”

“I do not.” The secretary wrinkled his nose. “But I’d imagine Lady Firthwell or even Her Grace of Ashwood would invite her, don’t you think?”

Niall sighed and leaned back in his chair. “Perhaps.”

He’d wager a bottle of his best whisky that the viscountess had sent Alicia an invitation. And while Niall knew his wife would enjoy the production, he did not fancy the prospect of watching her laugh and interact with the children when his emotions concerning her were already so riotous.

Sitting up, he slapped his hands on the desktop, the loud sound jerking his resolve into place. “Be that as it may, I’m certain the stress of our wedding requires a recovery period, and I insist we give her ladyship one. Please make it clear, Murray”—Inverray speared him with a firm look—“that my greatest concern is her health, and I intend for her, as my marchioness, to protect it.”

“Protect it. Of course.” Murray did not look convinced, but he nodded just the same.

Satisfied his trip to the Little Windmill would not be sabotaged with the sudden appearance of his fetching bride, Niall released a long breath. Alicia would be fond of the children at the foundling home, but he also needed time to adjust to his marriage. Mayhap another week of forced distance from his new wife would cure him of his pining thoughts.

Possibly.

Niall groaned as he rubbed his brow. He was in trouble.