A Most Improper Rumor by Emma Wildes Read Free Book Online

he called her that, he was displeased. “Um, how so?”
    “Alicia, please.” He waited until the footman left the room and said abruptly, “Do not call on anyone without my express permission.”
    That was high-handed enough that she stiffened. It took a moment before she responded, during which she drew a long breath. “Anyone? That seems to be a bit extreme. Do you care to rephrase?”
    He didn’t. She could tell, and she would have been amused by his expression if she hadn’t been so personally affronted.
    Not to mention guilty as accused. Still, he could have handled it much, much better in her opinion.
    “I forbade you to interfere.” His tone was deceptively level and calm.
    “Benjamin, you might be my husband, but you aren’t my keeper.” She took a bite of bread, which was warm and luscious; oddly enough, when she wasn’t fighting nausea, she was ravenous. “And please, spare me all that male blustering about privilege and power. I am your wife, not your possession, and since I happen to know you are intelligent enough to acknowledge it, don’t you wish to know what I learned?”
    “I think you probably learned that the servants were not the same at the time either husband met his untimely death, she has very little idea of who might be behind all of this, and she still did not reveal the name of the man who precipitated her action to call on me.”
    Well, that was accurate, she supposed. “I didn’t ask the latter,” she said with a shade of defensiveness. “Surely it was worth a try.”
    “My darling wife, how do you think I found out you visited Lady DeBrooke in the first place? I am quite naturally having her household watched and have talked to not just her, but her staff.”
    “Oh.” She’d been discreet and careful, and really . . . Wait,
was
she his darling? “I was trying to help,” she pointed out.
    “I realize that. The spirit in which you disobeyed me was never in doubt.”
    Had there not been the slightest hint of dry humor in his tone, she would have taken much greater exception to the word
disobey
. Alicia set down her goblet. “I am not a child.”
    “I think I am the last person on this earth who needs to be reminded you are very much a woman, a fact I have proved to show great appreciation for at every opportunity possible. However, that does not change my stance on this matter.”
    “Please explain to me why.” It seemed a fair-enough request.
    The sun slanted in the long windows, laying patterns on the rug. It was lovely if a little faded in spots, the rich colors muted, just as the conversation appeared to be when he didn’t respond at once. Finally he added in a completely dispassionate tone, “Now and again, I deal with dangerous people.”
    She’d always thought so, though he’d never said as much before.
    Somewhat of a coup to gain that honest admission. It softened the lecture at least a little.
    Alicia said carefully, “I don’t think Lady DeBrooke is—”
    “I don’t think so either, but most of England believes she murdered two men. Can you do me the courtesy of respecting my instructions? I worry about you, and please note I worry about our child as well.”
    Well, blast it. That is hard to argue.
    Had he dictated and not been so infernally polite, she could take greater umbrage, but he merely offered the butter for the piece of bread she’d already devoured, his expression unreadable.
    “Can’t we come to a compromise?” she suggested delicately, setting the butter aside.
    “Of what sort?” He sat back as the soup course arrived, his hazel eyes inquiring but also wary.
    When they were alone again, she dipped her spoon in the china bowl and took a sip of the steaming broth before she answered. “If you will allow me to help in any way you deem safe, I will promise not to do anything without consulting you first.”
    “That sounds reasonable enough,” her husband said dryly, “so that alone makes me suspect there is some clause in there I