He contemplated the best way to get Emily into the warmth of the bed. He was well aware it was only her pride keeping her in the chair. But pride was a very powerful thing, as he knew from personal experience. Sometimes it was all one had.
There was no need for Emily to suffer unduly tonight, Simon decided. Her feminine pride was due for a major blow soon enough. It would come when she was forced to finally admit defeat in this small war she had instigated.
He regretted having to set her up for the humiliation she would face when she finally surrendered. But there was no help for it. She would have to learn the hard way that he intended to be master in his own home and in his own bed.
In any event, it was Emily who had drawn the battle lines when she had made that rash vow not to grant him his rights in bed. Apparently there was still enough Faringdon in her to lead her to believe she could manipulate him, Simon reflected grimly. He would soon eradicate that element in her nature. They would both be happier and more content once Emily had accepted her new role in life.
In the meantime Simon decided he had no wish to listen to any more squirming about in the chair. He opened his mouth to order Emily over to the bed. But he was interrupted before he could speak.
"Simon?" Emily's voice was a soft, tentative thread of sound in the darkness. "Are you asleep?"
"No."
"I was just wondering about something."
Simon smiled to himself in satisfaction. Even better, of course, if she made the first move tonight. Would she ask straight out to join him in the bed or try the more subtle tactic of telling him she was cold and needed to get under the covers? he wondered. Either way he would make it easy for her.
"What were you wondering about, Emily?"
"Did you really cause Lucinda Canonbury to have a fit of the vapors when you entered a ballroom?"
"What the devil are you talking about?" Simon glowered at the figure in the chair.
"Celeste says that's what happened in London. She says all the young ladies on the marriage mart, including Lucinda Canonbury, were quite terrified of you and of the possibility that you would make an offer of marriage."
"I never noticed any of the silly chits having the vapors when I walked into a ballroom," Simon muttered. He had been informed, of course, that the Canonbury girl had fainted, but he had not actually noticed at the time. The ballroom had been quite crowded.
Emily giggled in the darkness. "I told Celeste it was all a lot of fustian. I am quite certain all the young ladies on the marriage mart were completely enthralled by you and you probably piqued them terribly by failing to even notice them."
It occurred to Simon that Emily still apparently had no real inkling of the reputation he enjoyed in town. As usual, she had romanticized the situation.
"You are quite right," he said evenly. "It is all a lot of nonsense." A thought struck him. He toyed with it for a moment and then made his decision. "Emily, would you like to go to London?"
"Oh, yes. Very much. But do you think I ought to do so? Papa always said I must not go into town too frequently lest someone mention the scandal in my past. I would not want to embarrass you, Simon."
"There is no longer a scandal in your past, Emily."
"There isn't?" She sounded confused.
"No. I have informed the few people, including Lord and Lady Gillingham and Prendergast, who know something of your little adventure five years ago that it is never again to be mentioned. That goes for you, as well. As far as you are concerned, Emily, there was no scandal."
"But, Simon—"
"We will not discuss it. There is nothing to discuss. And if anyone attempts to discuss it, you are to tell me immediately. Do you understand?"
"Yes, but, Simon, I really think—"
He softened briefly. "I know you cling to the memory of the Unfortunate Incident as one of your life's more thrilling moments, but I believe I can provide you with even more exciting moments to remember."
"Well, I thought so, too," she said candidly. "That is why I asked you to marry me. But now I am not so certain. I seem to have made a large mistake."
"Your only mistake, my dear, is in thinking you can manage me the way you manage your business affairs. I am not so easily controlled, madam."
"What a ghastly thing to say."
"It is the truth. But we shall soon remedy the problem. You will come to me and apologize very prettily for setting yourself against me. Then you will plead with me to take you back into my bed and that will be the end of it."
"Bloody hell, it will."
"I believe we were discussing a trip to London."
"We were discussing your insufferable arrogance," she retorted.
"We shall leave for town as soon as practicable."
"Why?" Emily demanded. "Why must we suddenly rush off to London?"
"Because," Simon said, thinking of the profound gratitude of the Marquess and Marchioness of Northcote, "I believe this would be a most opportune time for you to enter Society." Northcote, like Peppington and Canonbury, was now vulnerable at last. The marquess could be useful and Simon fully intended to use him and his lady to introduce Emily into Society.
Emily was silent for a long moment. "Do you really think so, Simon?"
He smiled again to himself. "Yes." He pushed back the covers and stood up. "Now, I find I am getting quite cold and uncomfortable. I must insist you come to bed and bring that blanket with you."
Emily sat up in alarm as he moved toward her, clutching at the blanket. She peered warily up at him in the shadows. "I have told you, I will not allow you to make love to me, Simon."
He reached down and scooped her out of the chair. "You may relax, my dear. This is a matter of practical comfort and health. I gave you my word I would not force myself on you." He stood her on her feet and began methodically and efficiently stripping off her clothing.
"Hah! Do you think I will beg you to make love to me once you get me into your bed?" she challenged as she batted ineffectually at his hands. "Do you believe I am so weak-willed?"
"You are not weak-willed, my sweet." Simon dropped the carriage gown over the chair, leaving Emily in only a thin muslin shift. "You are high-spirited, passionate, and impulsive. It is not at all the same thing."
Emily stopped slapping at his hands and looked up at him, squinting to see his face more clearly. "Do you really think so, Simon?"
He grinned briefly as he picked her up and carried her over to the bed. "I am quite certain of it, my dear. And even though you are presently annoyed with me, I know you would not wish me to freeze to death tonight. As we cannot both use the blanket unless we share the bed, we have no choice. You must join me."
Emily sighed in resignation and slithered quickly under the sheet. She lay rigidly on the far right edge of the bed, staring up at the ceiling as Simon got in beside her. "Very well. For the sake of our health, I will agree to share the bed. But you are not to make love to me, Simon."
"Do not concern yourself, Emily. I shall not pounce upon you in your sleep. I am content to wait until you come to me."
"That will not happen until I am convinced that what you feel for me is akin to what I felt for you until you broke my heart last night," she vowed.
"We shall see, madam wife. In the meantime, I suggest you get some sleep. You have had a very busy day."
"It was all rather exciting," she admitted, yawning. "I must say, it was very romantic of you to come after me the way you did. I feel there is hope for us, Simon."