Chapter 9

With a sigh, his wife rose from her chair amid the rustle of her silk skirts and turned to watch her reflection in the mirror as her hands fluffed her bustle. “Is this to get me back for interrupting you earlier?” she asked, paying more attention to her appearance than to him. “Because that boy is in the kitchens, I hear, if you want another try at him. I promise to keep my distance this time. As long as you’re finished before dinner—”

“Marien.” Eduard crossed the room to lean against the post at the foot of her bed. He didn’t know what he wanted to say or even how to say it—he just knew it had to be said. Turning, he stared at the tight sash around her narrow waist and hated to think of losing this home, this life, this charade they’d built together. Raising his eyes, he waited until she met his gaze before he spoke again. “Did you recognize that man? The visitor I had?”