A Wicked Kind of Husband (Longhope Abbey, #1)

by Mia Vincy

“I’m going to London!” Lucy announced, still spinning. “I’ll go to court and become the king’s mistress!” “They say he’s mad, so you may well appeal to him.” Cassandra held out her free hand. “Why don’t you give me that bottle now?”

HELP MEEEEE

“You two make an adorable couple,” the duke said. The man snorted. “Spare me your matchmaking. I’m already married.” “As am I,” Cassandra said automatically, her head beginning to float away, her eyes fixed on His Grace’s cravat pin so she wouldn’t have to look at the man. The dark, abrupt, ill-mannered man. No. No. No. “I realize you are both married.” The duke looked from one to the other. “But do you realize you are married to each other?”

LMAOOOOOO

“Let me explain, Mrs. DeWitt, how marriage works.” “Oh, please do, Mr. DeWitt, I’m all agog.” “I am the husband, so I make the rules to suit me.” “And I am the wife, so I change the rules to suit me.”

I LOVE THEM ALREADY

“You seem puzzled,” said his disruptive wife, as they reached the gate. “Have I said something to puzzle you?” “Most of what you say puzzles me. It’s almost as though you have a mind of your own.” “Please don’t vex yourself. I’ll try not to use it too often.”

HELPPPPPP

“Mrs. DeWitt,” he said. “You will leave here tomorrow.” “I am willing to do whatever you ask, Mr. DeWitt.” “Good.” “So long as you do not ask anything that I am not willing to do.”

“This is a colonization, Das. That woman is colonizing my house. Do you know what that means?” “Years of bloodshed, oppression, and exploitation, perhaps?”

“Do I pay you to disapprove of me, Das?” “No, sir. I provide the disapproval for free.”

NGAKAK BGT

“Mainly I’m wondering why you don’t get punched in the face more often.”

Cassandra, her shoulder pressing against his arm as she joined herself to him. Claimed him. Acknowledged him as her own.

He would never see that hair loose; he had not realized until now how much he wanted to.

“I imagine it is like staring into blankness,” he said. “Each day, you have to get up and face that blankness, and try to carve out another future even while you’re grieving for the one you lost. I imagine that each day you remind yourself to concentrate on what you have and never hope for anything else, and in time, that becomes enough.”

“I think you are trying to stop life from happening, but life keeps on happening anyway.”

“One should never argue with a drunk person,” she said, as he carried her out of the study and up the stairs. “This is something I have learned.” “I agree.” “One must be agreeable. You’re not agreeable. You’re disagreeable.” “No, I’m not. I’m lovely.”

But not yet. That would not be right. She was upset, and he was sure it was wrong to leave someone who was upset. And it was the first time she was drunk, and she might be frightened, if she woke alone to a spinning room. So he should stay a little longer. Until he was sure she was calm. Until the feel of her lips had left his. Until his urge to weep had passed.

He folded his arms. She lifted her chin. He narrowed his eyes. She raised her eyebrows. He scowled at her. She beamed at him.

“You do realize,” he drawled softly, “that when you cover your eyes, I can still see you.” “No you can’t.”

“What?” he said to her. “Forgotten how to speak, have you? Must I do everything?” “The conduct books would have it so.” “I’ve never read any.” “You astonish me.”

Joshua stood where he was until her skirts had disappeared from view. Right. His study was straight down the hallway, with all the work that awaited him. Yet somehow his legs took him up the stairs too.

She was sheer perfection, and he was lost. What a fool he was to have started this. But he had, and here they were, and now he was nothing but need for her.

“Are you going to kiss me now?” she asked. “You have a preoccupation with being kissed.” “Only by you.”

He brushed his lips over hers. “I’m going to kiss you,” he whispered against her mouth. “As you never imagined being kissed.”

“Be greedy with me,” he whispered to her. “Be greedy and selfish and rude. Do as you please, take what you want, and for mercy’s sake tell me if I do something you don’t like.”

“I say, Mrs. DeWitt. I think you might be starting to like me.” “I still want to throttle you half the time.” “All part of my charm.”

“I wouldn’t want to be churlish,” he said. “My wife is teaching me to be polite, you know.” “And my husband is teaching me to be wicked.”

“Say you’ll visit me at Sunne Park.” “You keep doing this to me, I’ll promise you the world.”

“You will not leave,” she ordered, scrambling out of the bed. He ignored her. “Do not leave again, Joshua. Not again, not this time.”

She missed him. Even when she stood right in front of him, she missed him.

“Your eyes are impossible,” he explained. “They can be greenish, or brownish, or greenish-brown, or brownish-green. In the sunlight, they even seem golden. When you weep, they turn green. When you are lustful, they turn brown. When you laugh, they get lighter. When you are angry, they get darker. So how in blazes am I supposed to know what color your eyes are when they keep changing all the time?”

“I want to feel you everywhere,” she whispered. “I want my world to be nothing but you.”

“I was lonely before and I thought that was awful. But to be with him and yet not be with him—this is the loneliest, most awful thing in the world.”

In her darker moments, she thought it would be better once he was gone. At least then she would be free of this dread, which was worse than nausea and fatigue, for the dread fought with hope and their tussles clawed at her. At least then her heart would be broken all at once, rather than breaking a little more each day.

“I like it when you kiss me first,” he said. “I like it when you leap through windows.” “I’d leap through any window in the world if it got me one of your kisses.”

“I’m your husband and you’re my wife and I know what that means now,” he whispered. “It means for better or for worse, and I’m going to devote my life to making your life better, whether you want me to or not.”

“Here’s my idea: I hold onto you and you hold onto me, and we never let go and we never turn away from each other, no matter what happens, however hard it gets.” He briefly squeezed her tight. “Even when the bad things happen, and the bad things will happen.”

“I don’t need gifts, I only need…” A thought struck her. She had forgotten. “What about Birmingham? Your home is there.” “My home is with you.”

“But to leave Birmingham? Birmingham was where you made yourself. It’s who you are.” “It’s who I was. You made me who I truly am. You showed me a world where it was safe for me to love and be loved. ” She flipped over to face him. “You showed me a world where it was safe for me to express myself and fight. Which, apparently, means that I yell now.”