April Kihlstrom (10 page)

She tilted up her chin and glared back. She would not apologize or explain herself. Nor would she answer him. It was up to him to speak again. She would stand her ground until he either conceded defeat and let her pass or else spoke and began a dialogue wherein they might begin to plan their future together, rather than simply having him hand down decisions dictated solely by what mattered to him.

“You are being ridiculous!” he began.

She drew herself up even taller.

“You will draw unwanted attention and speculation to us,” he hissed.

She quirked her eyebrows upward.

“Get back into bed!” he ordered.

She crossed her arms over her chest and merely tilted her chin higher still.

He groaned and ran a hand through his hair.

She smiled even though she knew that was foolish.

“I will not have my wife make a spectacle of us,” he said, his voice shaking with anger. “You are my wife and must obey me.”

She shook her head, allowing her own anger to show on her face.

He closed his eyes and no doubt silently counted to ten. Or perhaps it was a hundred for it took some time before he opened his eyes again. This time he modulated his voice so that it was almost, not quite but almost, gentle. “If you are angry with me, if you wish to disagree with what I have said,” he told her, “then I should much prefer that you stay and tell me so rather than running away. Like a coward,” he added. “I thought you braver than that.”

“Will you listen?”

He hesitated and she took a step toward the door.

“Yes, yes, I’ll listen!” he said hastily, holding up his hands to block her way.

She turned and stomped over to the chair in which she had eaten her meal, such a short time before. Carefully she seated herself and waited for him to join her. It took a moment or two but eventually he did so, sitting with his arms crossed over his chest. “Well?” he demanded. “What is it I have done to upset you so deeply? What supposed offense have I committed? Looking out for you and the welfare of our children?”

Beatrix felt her jaw set. Surely he could not be as obtuse as he seemed. “How is it looking out for me if you do not even ask me what my wishes are?”

“I told you. I am your husband and it is my place to make such decisions.”

“Even if I disagree?”

She watched the expressions flit across his face. He was angry, there was no doubt of that. The question was whether he would attempt to browbeat her or whether he would try to cajole her into doing what he wished. Either way, he was in for a shock if he truly thought she would consent to such a marriage!

In the end he chose to cajole. He took her hand in his and she had to swallow hard to try to ignore the sensations that raced through her at his touch.

“Come, is it such a bad thing to let me take the burden of caring onto my shoulders?” he asked softly. “I know that you had to do far too much of that with your parents and siblings. Let me be the one to take care of
you
.”

It sounded so seductively appealing. To not ever again have to worry about anyone else. To know that here was a man who would take care of her and ensure her welfare. She wanted to cry “Yes!” and throw herself into his arms. She might have done so if he had said this when he first told her his plans for her future. But he had not, and hearing it now, only after she had threatened to leave the bedroom, somehow made the notion far less appealing.

It was not easy because his thumb stroking the back of her hand felt so good, but Beatrix made herself pull it free of his. She clasped both her hands in her lap as she regarded him with what she hoped was a cool and calm gaze. There was only the slightest tremor in her voice as she said, “That sounds very well if I did not know you planned to bury me in the country with any children we might have. If I did not know that you would make decisions without ever consulting my wishes.”

“Why do you keep harping on that?” he asked, not troubling to hide his exasperation. “You do not know London. I do. You might think you would like to live there, but I assure you that you would not. Why can you not believe I know better than you do what is best for you?”

Beatrix felt her backbone stiffen. He did not understand. Nothing she could say would make him understand. Very well, she would simply have to show him. He would not like it. She was not entirely certain she would like it. But what other choice was there?

This was war. Wars were generally not won in just one battle. Strategy and patience were far more prudent to count upon. Stealth and intelligence gathering as well. Or so she presumed based on what she had read and heard about war. It was time to begin with all of those.

She smiled. “Perhaps you are right,” she said lightly.

He smiled and she could see his shoulders relax.

“Perhaps you are wrong.”

Now he stiffened and looked aghast.

“Either way,” she said softly, “it is evident we shall not settle the matter tonight. And as I do not wish to make a spectacle of myself to whoever might be in the common room downstairs, I shall sleep here tonight. With you.”

Now he simply looked bewildered. Relieved and wary and bewildered. Excellent.

Beatrix rose to her feet and turned her back to him. “Will you undo my dress?” she asked.

He scrambled to comply. Again excellent. It was good to know what tactics worked with him.

She let the dress slide to the floor and waited a careful moment before she stepped out of it. She swore she could hear him swallow hard behind her. Slowly she sauntered to the bed, leaving him to lift her dress from the floor and toss it over the back of a chair. It ought to be hung on a peg, of course, but now was not the time to quibble about such matters. No, now was the time to lull him into complacency and let him see that her presence was indispensable for his comfort. And his pleasure.

To that end, she reached to embrace Rothwood as he climbed into bed beside her and proceeded to show him just what he would be missing if he were in London and she in the countryside, far, far away.

Chapter 8

Edmund woke slowly, forgetting for a moment where he was. And with whom. Then he realized who he was holding so close against his body and he grinned. His wife had proven surprisingly passionate the night before, much to his delight.

Then more memories of the night returned. Surely he had imagined her trying to walk out of the room in the middle of the night? Surely
his
Beatrix would not have done such a thing?

But there was her dress, tossed across the back of the chair. Just where he had put it.

Perhaps it was the wine that had caused her to behave in such an odd manner. Yes, that must be it. The Trowley household funds would not have run to great quantities of wine, even if her parents had let their children drink it. And he had pressed her to drink quite a bit, in hopes of relaxing her before their wedding night. No doubt the effects had altered her judgment and distorted her thinking.

He would just have to be sure she did not overindulge in the future. Now that he knew to guard against such a thing, all would be well. Of course it would. Why, look at how angelic she looked in her sleep!

That was when she opened her eyes and for a moment they narrowed, but then she smiled and turned in toward him, snuggling closer. Yes, this was the girl he had married, the bride he had chosen, the woman he had made love to so passionately the night before.
This
was his Beatrix, the girl, the
woman
he had wanted so much to marry. The kiss she gave him now reaffirmed her complacence as his wife and, rather magnanimously, he decided to overlook her aberrant behavior of the night before.

“I would love,” he said, returning her kiss, “to keep you here all day, but if we are to reach London by nightfall, we should be on our way.”

She made no demur, the essence of a dutiful wife, rising immediately and preparing for the day. There was a sweetness in the way that she asked him to help do up her dress that further lulled his concerns. In return, he kissed the top of her head when he was done and said, “Go on ahead to the private parlor. I shall have the innkeeper send up food for us while I check with the coachman that all is ready for us to leave within the hour.”

Again she made no demur. Smiling and in the happiest of moods, Edmund took the steps down to the ground floor two at a time, whistling softly as he went. At the sound of him, the innkeeper appeared, bowed and promised to send food up straightaway, “For me missus was thinking the pair of you would be famished this morning.”

“That we are, my good man. That we are.”

When Edmund stepped into the stables he was relieved to see his coachman checking over the carriage thoroughly. “Is all well?” he asked.

“Aye, m’lord. No damage that I can find. Mind, I’ll feel better once you get one of them Bow Street Runners to look into the matter.”

“So will I,” Edmund agreed. “How soon can we be ready to leave?”

“Whenever you wish and I’ll not leave the horses or the carriage alone or unwatched until then.”

His fears allayed, Edmund headed back inside. He meant to tell Beatrix they had but a few minutes before they needed to be on their way. Instead, when he opened the door to the private parlor and found Beatrix waiting for him, the table laden with food, he suddenly could not think of any reason why they must be in such a rush.

“Come and enjoy what the innkeeper has sent up for us,” Beatrix said, patting the chair next to hers.

With relief, Edmund took the seat beside Beatrix and smiled warmly at her as she prepared a plate for him from the largesse on the table. If it was not precisely to his taste, well, he could remedy that with a second helping that he would choose for himself. The important thing was that morning had obviously brought wisdom to his bride and he ought to reward that with kindness and appreciation for her efforts to please him. After all, hadn’t he half expected another temper tantrum this morning?

* * *

A temper tantrum was precisely what Beatrix had considered. And promptly discarded. What purpose would it serve? Rothwood had already shown he would not be cowed by such tactics, nor would she want a husband who was.

What then? Silence? Since he already planned to keep her in the countryside while he lived in London, it did not seem likely that would disturb him. Not unless he first had come to rely upon her company and wish for it. In which case there would be no need for temper tantrums or bouts of silence or any such nonsense.

No, in the first moments when she had awakened and felt his gaze on her, Beatrix had chosen her path. She would woo him, seduce him, make him dependent upon her for his comfort and happiness. She would make him wonder how he had ever managed without her company or her management of his household.

She would remind him of the boy he had been, the man who had laughed and been so kind with her family. She would help him rediscover his hopes and dreams. In the end, he would not send her away because he would not wish to send her away. That was the path to achieving what she wished.

Having chosen her strategy, Beatrix was determined to keep to it, no matter what the provocation. So she smiled and invited him to sit beside her and heaped a plateful of the best of what the innkeeper had sent up to them. Why then did he frown as he looked at his plate?

He did not complain, of course. Perhaps she was mistaken and he was thinking of other matters. Yes, that must be it. “Is something wrong?” she asked.

He started. He definitely started. “No, nothing,” he assured her.

It took great effort for Beatrix to continue to smile rather than frown at him.

“I see. Well, tell me about London. What is your favorite place there?”

“My club.”

That was daunting. She could not share the time he spent at his club. And did he need to be quite so short in answering her?

“Who should I look forward to meeting?” she asked. “Your friends’ wives?”

“My friends are not married. I am the first of my circle. And no, they are not fit company for you.” He paused and a sudden gleam came into his eyes. “In fact,” he said with a smile that was patently false, “I fear you shall find yourself sadly isolated in London. Now at my country estate, there are many neighbors nearby who will be happy to call upon you and have you call upon them.”

Her fingers itched to slap the self-satisfied smile off her new husband’s face. But that would not forward her goal. Instead she forced herself to keep a pleasant expression as she replied, looking down at her plate, “Well, I shall just have to ask Lady Kenrick to help me find a circle I may join in London.”

The clatter of his fork hitting his plate was most satisfying. Still, Beatrix kept her gaze fixed on her own as she calmly took another bite of the delicious food. She did not think he would dally at inns once they were on their way, and she had no wish to spend the day hungry.

“You would not enlist my aunt’s aid,” Rothwood ground out through what were surely clenched teeth.

Now Beatrix allowed herself to look at him, her eyes all wide-open innocence. “Why not? I can see clearly how it would be unfair of me to ask or expect you to introduce me around to the ladies of your acquaintance, and it is the very sort of thing in which your aunt would take great delight. She is everywhere received, is she not?”

“She is.”

Definitely clenched teeth.

“Then there you are! She is the perfect person to assist me in making my curtsey to the
ton
.”

Had she gone too far? Done it up much too brown? No, every word she had said was absolutely true. Indeed, what had begun as a way to tweak her husband now seemed divinely inspired as a solution to his evident plan to keep her isolated and unhappy in London so that she would look forward to leaving it and eager to live on his country estate.

“I forbid you to call on Lady Kenrick to ask her such a thing.”

Beatrix allowed an expression of surprise to cross her face before she returned to the look of naiveté. “But dear, I shan’t have to call on Lady Kenrick. She is certain to call on us and I can scarcely refuse to admit her! But I will promise not to
ask
her to help me, if that is what you wish.”

“It is.”

“Very well.”

“Why are you being so agreeable?” Rothwood asked sharply.

“But I am your wife. Am I not supposed to be agreeable?”

She held his gaze steadily and this time he was the one who turned his attention to his plate first. Beatrix hid her smile of satisfaction. There would be no need to
ask
Lady Kenrick for her help. Indeed, the trick would have been to prevent her from not only offering but enacting it, whether Beatrix wanted her help or not. She could make all the promises Rothwood wished, but by the time they had been in London a fortnight, Beatrix had no doubt Lady Kenrick would have taken her around and introduced her to a great many ladies and curiosity alone would have an equal number calling on her to introduce themselves. Lady Kenrick had promised as much right before Beatrix and Rothwood were wed.

For a man who lived in London, Rothwood seemed surprisingly ignorant of how society worked. But that was all to the good. This way he could not prevent what was about to occur.

Thus it was that Beatrix was able to finish her breakfast in perfect equanimity notwithstanding the fact that Rothwood carefully filled his plate a second time in a very different manner than she had filled it for him.

Still, she was able to coax him into telling her more about both his rural and his London homes as he ate. And when it was time to leave, she found him almost teasing her as he lifted her over a puddle in the yard so that her slippers needn’t touch the mud. Almost she could forget what had happened the night before, the things he had said. Almost, but not quite.