It was an indisputable law of nature that when two people who were attracted to one another started drinking, there would at the very least be some kissing.
But, of course, with Benedict being who he was, it only made sense that he was the only man in the universe who was the exception.
'And do you know what those biiitttchheesss in Lon-dumb call me?' His wife asked between large gulps straight from the bottle.
She was a mean drunk, too. The spirits apparently loosened her tongue incredibly, and she had the vocabulary that might make a sailor blush. She thrust the bottle in his general direction, with an expectant look on her face. He really should find the energy to be properly offended at the impropriety but the bourbon was so good. And everything was shining a little. And his wife was so pretty, she was glowing most of all. He would have to remember to be mad about it later. He grabbed the offered bottle and took a swig.
But it certainly explained the first letter she had ever written him, some two weeks after he had returned to London.
'No, what do they call you?' He asked, then added reproachfully. 'London is perfectly wonderful, I assure you.'
'Her Grace....less! Her disgrace. No! Don't you dare laugh.'
'It's a little funny.' He told her honestly, shifting his face so she wouldn't see how hard he was trying to hold back his laughter.
He took a look at his surroundings, a fire blazed in the hearth bathing the small private library in an inviting glow. The shelves were made of dark wood, lined from bottom to top with all sorts of scandalous romance books. There was another shelf for adventure novels and travel diaries, but the romance novels far outweighed the other material. There were the classic titles, of course; Sense and Sensibility, Pride and Prejudice, and so on. Some titles by the Minerva Press as well, gothic novels so overly dramatic and ridiculous that most people in his circle would not even admit to reading them.
And then there were the more....concerning titles.
The Pirate's Prisoner Princess.
The Sultan's Unwilling Captive.
The Count's Ravishing Problem.
He did not imagine those provided much in the way of mental stimulation. And why the devil were all these women captives in some way or other? Couldn't they simply fall desperately in love with a man who wasn't forced into proximity with them?
He shot a contemplative look at his wife. Then again, maybe these novels had something of it right.
Not that he wanted his wife to fall in love with him. He placed no importance on such a silly notion. It was just that the forced proximity had resulted in a growing affection between them and he was not sorry about it at all.
Was fire always so...warm? And cozy? He extended his feet a little closer to the warmth.
'I don't like you.' She informed him, swiping the bottle from his hands and collapsing into a heap on the floor. 'Can I tell you a secret?'
'Always.'
'This is illegal bourbon,' she said on a dramatic whisper. She grabbed a hold of his hand and tugged him until he too was on the carpet, right next to her. 'It was smuggled. We are committing a crime.'
He frowned at her as she dissolved into a fit of giggles, 'I wouldn't let you get arrested.'
Never mind that smuggling was the actually illegal bit.
YOU ARE READING
A Marriage Most Inconvenient (Inconvenient Matches Book #1)
Romance[The Inconvenient Matches series is comprised entirely of stand alone novels that can be read in any order] Forced into marriage by duty and obligation, The Duke and Duchess of Rothbury parted ways a week after saying their vows under the explicit u...
