ROBERT PUSHED the spoon between Amy’s lips, but it met clenched teeth. “Amy, you have to eat. I won’t have you fainting in church tomorrow.”
“Untie me, and I’ll feed myself. Otherwise…” She shrugged.
Robert dropped the spoon in the bowl. Ragout of mushrooms, sweetbreads and oysters splashed up, brown bits landing on the coverlet. “Have it your way. You’ll let me feed you when you get hungry enough.”
Never, Amy thought. She’d never grant him the satisfaction.
He rose from the bed, wandered to the window, and rubbed a fist on the grimy pane in an effort to see out. Then, giving up, he threw himself onto one of the wooden chairs, his legs sprawled out in front of him in an awkward attempt to recline.
Amy’s carefully veiled eyes followed his every move. He was growing bored, tired of waiting. Good. Perhaps he’d become restless enough to consider leaving for a while.
He yawned, loudly, not bothering to cover his mouth. She grimaced at the sight of his overlapping teeth, wondering how she’d ever had the stomach to let him kiss her.
He yawned again. This was encouraging. If he fell asleep, she’d have a chance to untie herself. She ground her teeth lightly, anticipating using them to loosen her bonds.
A knock at the door jerked Robert back to life.
“About time,” he growled, rising to answer it.
A man pushed a large box into Robert’s arms. Reaching into his pocket, Robert fished out a coin and slapped it into the man’s palm, then turned and kicked the door shut behind him. He set the box on the table. “Want to see it?”
Without waiting for an answer, he threw aside the box’s lid and pulled out an ice-blue gown. Shaking it out, he held it up. “See? It matches my suit,” he pointed out with a foolish grin.
He was obviously pleased with himself, his good humor restored. And why not? Amy reflected. He’d planned everything down to the last detail, and it was all proceeding perfectly.
“We’ll appear the proper bride and groom,” Robert boasted.
Amy snorted. Matching his outfit was the last item on her list of priorities. She had to admit, though, he had good taste.
However had he managed to procure such a lovely gown on a few hours’ notice on a Sunday? The satin was embroidered with silver flowers and leaves, and scattered clusters of pearls suggested bunches of grapes. He spread it across the foot of the bed and laid coordinating blue slippers on top; they looked as though they might fit.
Amy was heartened. In such a gown she could flag down a hackney without the driver suspecting she had no means to pay. Another problem was solved.
She allowed herself a smile—but just a tiny one, so he wouldn’t suspect.