Her dark blue eyes seemed to flash fire and ice at the same time, and Charles wasn't sure whether he should be feeling apprehension or desire. He thought about saying something asinine like, “You're beautiful when you're angry.” It had always worked wonders on his mistresses, but he had a feeling it wouldn't bring much success with his wife.

He glanced somewhat hesitantly in her direction. She was standing across the room, her posture militant, her hands fisted at her sides. The damned list lay crumpled on the floor. When she caught him looking at her, she glared even harder, and Charles rather thought that he could hear thunder.

No doubt about it, he'd botched this one up but good.

Her intellect, he suddenly thought. He was going to have to appeal to her intellect and reason this out with her. She prided herself on her sensibility and levelheadedness, didn't she? “Ellie,” he began, “we never did have the opportunity to discuss marriage with each other.”

“No,” she bit out, her words dripping acid, “we merely married each other.”

“I allow that our nuptials were somewhat hasty, but we had good reason to act quickly.”

“You had good reason,” she retorted.

“Don't try to act as if I have taken advantage of you,” he replied, his voice growing impatient. “You needed this marriage every bit as much as I did.”

“I didn't get as much out of it, though.”

“You have no idea what you're getting out of it! You are a countess now. You have more wealth than you have ever dreamed of.” He started at her. Hard. “Don't insult me by playing the victim.”

“I have a title. And I have wealth. And I also have a husband to whom I must answer. A husband who does not seem to see anything wrong with treating me like chattel.”

“Eleanor, you're growing unreasonable. I don't want to argue with you.”

“Have you noticed that you only call me Eleanor when you are speaking to me like a child?”

Charles counted to three and then said, “Ton marriages are based on the premise that both parties are mature enough to respect each other's choices.”

She started at him, openmouthed. “Do you have any idea what you just said?”

“Ellie…”

“I think what you just said is that I may also be unfaithful if I so choose.”

“Don't be silly.”

“After the heir and the spare, of course, as you so eloquently spelled out.” She sat down on an ottoman, clearly lost in thought. “Freedom to live my life as I choose, with whom I choose. It's intriguing.”

As Charles stood there, watching her contemplate adultery, his previous views on marriage suddenly sounded as appealing as mud. “You can't do anything about it now,” he said. “It's considered very bad form to have an affair before you produce an heir.”

She started to laugh. “Item number four suddenly takes on new meaning.”

He looked at her with a blank expression.

“You wanted someone who could move about your social milieu with ease. Clearly I am going to have to master the intricacies of what is bad form and what is not. Let's see…” She began to tap her forefinger against her jawbone, and Charles had the urge to yank her hand away, just to wipe that sarcastic expression from her face. “It is bad form to carry on an affair too soon in the marriage,” she continued, “but is it bad form to have more than one lover at once? I shall have to investigate that.”