In response, Grayson sniffed her some more before climbing onto her chest and sitting down as if he were a small loaf of dark gray bread.
Lady Aldington looked up at Constantine, her lips curling into the most charming smile he’d ever seen her wear. He was captivated. No, more than that. He simply couldn’t look away. Nor could he not smile in return.
“Grayson prefers you to me. Smart cat.”
A laugh escaped her lips, and Grayson started. The countess clapped her hand over her mouth, but her eyes still danced with amusement. Constantine started to laugh too, in spite of the still aching slash across his chin.
The door to the study opened, and Mrs. Haddock stood at the threshold. “Grayson! You naughty boy!”
The cat leapt off Lady Aldington and ran to his mama, who scooped him up with one arm. She held a small bowl of something—presumably kidney—in her other hand. “There you go,” she murmured as the cat dipped his face into the bowl. “I’m so sorry, my lord,” Mrs. Haddock said earnestly. “This will never happen again.”
Constantine honestly didn’t care if it did. The event had been the most entertaining and enlivening thing that had ever happened in this house. “So long as he stays out of sight when we have guests, Grayson is not a problem.” He lowered the cravat from his chin.
Mrs. Haddock’s jaw dropped. “Oh no, did he do that?”
“I’m afraid so,” Constantine glanced at the blood stains on the white silk.
“My deepest apologies, my lord. If you want us to turn him out, we will at once.” The housekeeper looked pained as she made the offer.
“Not at all. He’s a cat, and Lady Aldington has reminded me that they are particular. It seems he prefers the countess to me.”
“He also prefers me to Haddock,” Mrs. Haddock said with a commiserative nod. “Which causes poor Haddock a bit of distress, I’m afraid. Don’t tell him I told you.” Grayson began to twitch in her grasp. “I’d best get him downstairs. Again, my apologies. And gratitude.” After dipping a brief curtsey, she left, closing the door behind her, which Constantine found odd.
“See, Grayson does respond to insults,” Lady Aldington noted from the floor. “Mrs. Haddock called him naughty, and he went right to her.”
Constantine turned toward his wife as she rolled to her side. He crouched down to help her up. “I’m sorry to have left you down there.”
As she stood, they were practically in his each other’s arms, so close that he could lean down and kiss her as he’d thought of doing earlier.
“I’m quite all right.” She smiled broadly. “That was certainly entertaining.”
“I thought the same thing.”
“Did you?” She seemed genuinely surprised. Then she did the most remarkable thing, she lifted her hand and gently caressed his chin. “Does it hurt?”
“A bit.” He felt slightly off balance. This was not the behavior of someone who loathed him. Perhaps she was trying to make the best of their marriage, as he was hoping to do.
She glanced toward the open neck of his shirt, and he could have sworn she blushed the barest amount. “You should go upstairs and clean it. Perhaps apply some of the salve you used on your hand.”
He was tempted to ask if she would help him, but that sounded rather like flirting, and he didn’t flirt. But he wanted to. With her.
She lowered her hand, and he was unaccountably disappointed. “That was very kind of you to allow them to keep their cat, especially after he wounded you.”
“Cats are cats. My mother used to let us tend the kittens at Woodbreak when we were children. I’d all but forgotten that.”
“How lovely,” she said softly, her eyes sparkling with warmth. Again, he was struck by her demeanor. How could he think she still hated him as she had in the beginning? “You like cats then?”
“I never gave it much thought—not in years. But I suppose I don’t mind them.”
“I love that he seems to be a family member for the Haddocks. I feel as if we caught a glimpse of who they really are today.” She glanced away briefly. “It makes you think about how we all put up a façade for the roles we play, whether we are in service or peers of the realm.”
She was talking about him. Did she see him as having a façade?
Or was she referring to herself? Was she now playing the role of happy countess in order to have a child?
Her gaze dipped to where her gloves lay on the floor. “I should be going.”
Constantine went to retrieve the accessories. When he handed them to her, his fingers brushed her hand, and the connection raced through him, heating his blood and quickening his pulse. Ignoring the sensations, he asked, “Where are you off to?”
“I’m visiting the modiste to pick up a ball gown. Then I shall pay a call on Mrs. Renshaw.”
“Do you have plans for this ball gown?” He wondered if it exposed as much of her back as last night’s ensemble.
“I thought I might wear it to the Hargrove ball on Saturday. Are you planning to attend?”
“I will now that you are.”
Another flash of surprise brightened her gaze. “Will we go together then?”
“I can’t see why not. If I’d known you were going to the rout last night, I would have accompanied you.” It was the courteous thing to do, and they were, for better or worse, married.
You want to go with her, a voice at the back of his mind whispered.
“I assumed you would be late at Westminster, as you so often are.” The typical stiffness of their dialogue had crept back after the ease of their earlier conversation. Because of a cat. Perhaps he should have Haddock find another.
Could that conviviality extend to the bedchamber? Or would things continue to be tense? Last night had been a slight improvement, but Constantine still felt as though there was a canyon between them. Perhaps he should consult with Lucien’s tutor. What harm could come from a meeting? As Lucien had said, they didn’t need to have sexual intercourse for Constantine to learn what he needed to.
“I can make accommodations,” he said with regard to accompanying her to events.
“Oh. I should not have assumed,” she said softly. “I’ll endeavor not to do that in future. Shall we make a point of sharing our social plans?”
“I think that would be beneficial. And don’t apologize. I have been too busy, and perhaps I should not be. I should have accompanied you to the rout last night, and I should not have left.”
She hesitated a moment, her eyes locked on him with perhaps a glimmer of disbelief in their depths. “I had Evie at my side.”
Evie. Evangeline Renshaw. “You have become quite friendly with Mrs. Renshaw. I didn’t even realize you knew each other. I will pay more attention to your friends and acquaintances.”
She arched a brow at him. “Why? So you can decide if they are appropriate?”
His eyes widened briefly. “Heavens no, why would you think that?”
Her lips parted, and she glanced away. “My apologies. I am used to my parents dictating everything I did, including who I could become friends with.”
“I understand,” he said wryly. “My father voices his opinion on nearly every aspect of my life.”