The Offer (23 page)

He helped his master into his greatcoat and handed him his hat and gloves. Phillip said, “I know you're aware that the new mistress has come through a rather trying time. But it's over now. She's young, Greybar, and untried in London ways. I've decided against taking her to Dinwitty Manor, at least for the time being. She must learn her way here, in London, and I trust that you will assist her. A dinner party, say next week, will be just the thing to start her off.”

“Oh yes, my lord, that sounds like an excellent start. We've a week to get color back into her cheeks, perhaps to add a bit of flesh on her little bones. Oh yes, that would be perfect.”

Two hours and five minutes later, after shouting his second release to Martine's newly replastered bedchamber ceiling, Phillip rolled off her and onto his back. He crossed his arms behind his head. He thought of Sabrina benignly now, without any nagging lust getting in the way, thought of her lying in his big bed, soft and asleep and him not attacking her.

“You know, Martine,” he said now, feeling quite pleased with himself and her, “all my friends pulled the wedding off quite nicely. And you have helped me return my thoughts to more practical matters and away from matters of the flesh. Now I can assist Sabrina to recover her spirit without wanting to kiss her and caress her and just bloody look at her until she's so terrified that she'd just swoon right away onto the floor. No, with your help, I can regard her as a pupil who's bright and willing to learn. But it will be up to her to make her own mark in society. She'll be quite acceptable once she puts a bit more meat on her bones, that's what Greybar said, and he's right. But what's important is that I give her time to get over Trevor, that mangy bastard. Yes, once that happens, then I can introduce her to what goes on between a husband and a wife.

“Exactly how I'm going to proceed I haven't figured out yet, but I thank you for granting me respite. You know how Greybar loves to entertain. Why I already told him that we'll have a dinner party next week and then—”

There was a soft snore beside him. Martine was fast asleep. Phillip grinned as he dressed himself and took himself back home.

He fell asleep in a too-short bed in a guest bedchamber just as the dawn was turning the sky a pale pink outside the window. He thought of Sabrina, again
without undue lust. She was of impeccable breeding; she would make him an excellent wife. Yes, everything would be fine. He was aware of feeling quite pleased with himself as he drifted off into sleep.

Early the next morning, the viscount, wearing a pleased, sated smile, turned to his wife at the breakfast table. “Some bacon, Sabrina? It will help put some meat on you, that's what Cook said. Did you sleep well?”

“I don't care for bacon, but I did sleep well, once I managed to get to sleep. That bed is very big and I'm not used to your house. It was very quiet and then there'd be a creak and a little shudder. I dreamed about ghosts and things of that sort.”

“I'm sorry, but soon you'll be used to everything.” She merely nodded and chewed on a slice of toast. She was dressed charmingly, in a high-necked pale pink muslin gown. The pink did wonderful things to her auburn hair and to that white skin of hers, not to mention how it seemed to deepen the violet eyes. He started to compliment her, then decided that it might frighten her, that she might think that he was flattering her so he could hoist her skirts up. So he said nothing, merely kept smiling, determinedly.

“You won't have to get used to my bed. Perhaps, if you wish, you can select another bedchamber until we have the viscountess's bedchamber redone. All right?”

“Did you sleep in one of the other bedchambers last night, Phillip?”

“Yes. The bed was a bit on the short side. But it wasn't bad.”

She toyed with a crust of toast. He handed her a pot of jam. She said suddenly, “Doris told me I looked like a redheaded angel.”

That brought his head up. He'd been carving himself a slice of rare beef when she'd said that, and he very nearly cut his finger. “A redheaded angel, huh? I'll ask Rohan what he thinks.”

“He's very nice.”

“Yes. We've known each other since we were boys. He and Susannah are very close.”

“I know. He really missed her. All he could do was talk about her, about Marianne, his daughter, Toby, his brother-in-law, and Jamie, who seems to be a stable lad and sings limericks to his horses.”

“Yes, he's still besotted with his wife. She's pregnant and that's why she didn't come. He said every time someone said something funny within her hearing, she vomited. He said it's difficult to be melancholy all the time around her but that's what everyone has to do.”

“Yes, I know. Will I ever meet her?”

“Certainly. Indeed, we can visit them at Mountvale Manor and go to a cat race.”

“I've heard that cat races are very popular in the south of England. Grandfather told me all about them. I think he's always wanted to attend one.”

“Perhaps all of us can. The most famous is the McCaulty Racetrack near Eastbourne. They've met for years every Saturday from April to October.” He paused a moment, playing with his fork. “I always wanted a racing cat, but the Harker brothers—they're the big trainers down there—they didn't think I had enough commitment. Oh, well, we'll see how you like the competition. They won't begin until the fourth of
April. As for right now, I just thought we would remain in London for a while.”

She kept chewing on that piece of toast. She heard the rustling of the newspaper and said to the painting of very large painted fruits on the opposite wall, “I don't really feel married at all. I don't feel at all different than I did last night, except that Aunt Barresford isn't here, and that, I can tell you, is very nice.”

She was still afraid her world was caved in, he thought. She needed assurance from him and he freely gave it. “Just look at the Mercerault emerald on your finger, Sabrina. That ring has adorned many a Mercerault lady's finger. I hope you like it since you will wear it until you decide to give it to our son's bride someday. You're good and married. There's nothing for you to fear now, I swear it to you. Folk will come about, they always do. There'll be a new scandal that will titillate them and they'll forget all about you. By the time you have our first child, they will remember only that you're an earl's granddaughter and that you married a very handsome man who dotes on you. What do you think?”

She supposed that he could be said to dote, at least in the way he treated her, as if she were a shepherdess figurine atop the mantel. No one had ever treated her like that before. It was very depressing. She looked at him as he forked down a thick bite of sirloin. She smiled. “I think you've very nice, Phillip. But perhaps there is more than just simple doting?”

“Yes, there is. Now is as good a time to tell you as any. You met Peter Straddling, my solicitor. He will be drawing up the necessary papers so that your funds will return to your name.”

He gave her a fat smile. He knew he was a prince among men. She was just staring at him as if she couldn't believe she'd heard him aright. Her mouth
was actually open. He continued, his voice soft and rich and utterly serious, “I don't want you to feel that I ever married you for the wealth you bring me. I am keeping your dowry, that's as it should be, but your inheritance of ten thousand pounds will be yours again to do with as you please. Also, you'll have a quarterly allowance.”

She was still as a stone and wore a particularly vacant look on her face.

“What don't you understand?”

“I just don't understand you, my lord.”

“The bloody ten thousand pounds is yours again, that's all. What's to understand? What's right is right. There's nothing more to it than that.”

Sabrina carefully lowered her fork to her plate. “But there was no reason for you to do that. Why did you do it?”

“I told you. I don't need your money. I don't want anyone saying that's why I married you. For heaven's sake, Sabrina, you might at least thank me. You're quite independent now.”

She felt the anger bubbling up in her, but it was a helpless anger, an impotent anger, one that was going to choke her if she didn't do something, say something, ah, but to say anything would make her look like an ungrateful idiot. Still, she just couldn't help herself. She slowly rose from her chair, splaying her hands on the table. “Is it, my lord, that you believe that since I'm only a simple female, such concepts involving bargains and honor are beyond my ability to comprehend? It isn't
my
money, Phillip. We made a bargain, a business agreement, don't you remember? The moment you accepted my offer, it was your money.”

“Our bargain,” he said mildly, “was at your insistence.” He shrugged. “Listen, Sabrina, that offer of
yours allowed you to save face and the both of us to do what had to be done, namely marry before you were buried under the fast-accumulating piles of nastiness.”

She leaned toward him now. He saw the furious pulse in her neck. She was clearly enraged. But what had he done? “You make me ill. You are so smug, so certain you are the titan of generosity.” She was shaking now. “How dare you treat me like some brainless little female whose only motive was to lure your high and mighty lordship into marriage? Save face, ha! What I offered you in return for your precious Mercerault name was all that I could, my lord. It isn't a piddling amount of money. It's a great deal. It was an honorable offer and I had thought that your acceptance was to be taken in the same light.”

He said slowly, not understanding her fury but certainly feeling it, “Why are you twisting what happened? I have never even hinted that anything you've done was to lure me into marrying you. I saved your hide, and that's the long and short of it.

“I saved you, Sabrina. It's the truth. Get used to it. Also, get used to having your money back. What the devil is wrong with you? Didn't you hear what I just said? Good Lord, I must be losing what little bit of brain I still possess.”

“Your brain is your own problem, my lord. You refuse to see the point. Why do you want to destroy my honor and treat me like some idiot? Surely you can understand that.”

He rose slowly now, their faces not a foot apart. “Very well, madam, it will be as you wish. I shall keep your bloody money, all ten thousand pounds of it. Maybe I'll even gamble it away, though I've never enjoyed gambling that much. Further, madam, if you wish it, we can hold a reckoning at the end of each
quarter. I will expect you not to exceed your allowance. Is that what you want, Sabrina, to dance to my tune?”

She was shaking. It wasn't his tune she was dancing to, it was society's tune. But he represented society. He represented all the ridiculous strictures that had brought her low. She said, “Anything, Phillip, anything is preferable to being in your debt. Even the humiliation of a quarterly accounting. As for your noble male honor, I hope that you choke on it.”

“I wanted you to get your spirit back after you were safely wedded to me, madam. However, if that means that you're going to be an irrational, stubborn mule, a girl who is so trapped in her petty little concerns that—”

“I'd rather be a mule than a stubborn blind ass.”

“I am your husband. You won't interrupt me again, Sabrina.”

“I'll do precisely as I wish. I have, after all, paid you quite dearly for that right.”

“You have a lot to learn, Viscountess,” he said easily, for he was in control again. “As for rights, you have none. You will do what I tell you. An earl's granddaughter you may be, but more to the point is that you are now my wife. Why don't you go to your bedchamber and think about your nonsensical charges and insults? When you're ready to apologize to me, tell Greybar, and he will inform me.”

A jar of jam flew past his head.

He could only stare at her. Her breasts were heaving she was breathing so hard. If he shook her, which is what she deserved, he would probably hurt her. “Go to your room, Sabrina.”

“I don't think so,” she said finally. “No, I believe I'll send a message to Charles Askbridge. Perhaps he
would like to take me for a ride in the park. He, at least, isn't an officious tyrant.”

“Don't push me, Sabrina, else I shall remove you to Dinwitty Manor where you could cool your ridiculous temper in peaceful solitude.”

“You'd like that, wouldn't you? Then you could spend all your nights with your mistress.” She paused a moment at the shocked expression on his face. There were two spots of color on his cheekbones. He looked chagrined. He looked embarrassed and guilty. She wasn't mistaken about that. She blinked as understanding flooded into her brain. She said slowly, “That's what you did last night, isn't it? You left just after you dismissed me. I thought I heard the front door open and close just before I was back in your bedchamber.

“You went to your mistress on our wedding night, didn't you? You couldn't be bothered to bed your wife, even spend one night with her, even stay in a bedchamber close to hers, no, you bedded your damned mistress.”

He was silent as a stone.

She flung back her head, looking through him. “It amazes me that you could bed your mistress all the while telling me and anyone else who will listen about how chivalrous you are, how noble.”

“I haven't done that.”

“Ha! If not out loud, you've preened and strutted about, all confident and smug in your damnable generosity. Should I throw myself at your feet, Phillip, for saving me? Should I then kiss your boots? Should I perhaps send a little token of appreciation to your mistress for keeping you away from me on the most special night of a woman's life?”

He stared at this wife of his, hearing her rage, her disbelief. He said slowly, getting to what was the most
important thing she'd said, “Is it really the most special night in a woman's life?”

“Only if the woman knows nothing of what men are really like.”

“Enough baiting me. Answer me. Did you want me to stay with you last night?”

There came a discreet knock at the dining-room door. “Oh, hell,” Phillip said. He pointed his finger at her. “You will answer that question, Sabrina. Oh yes, you most certainly will, as soon as I get rid of this wretched person who is knocking and probably won't leave until I answer. And you won't write to Charles. Damn you, obey me.”

He straightened. “Come,” he called out.

“Your carriage is ready, my lord,” Greybar announced, his eyes fastened on his master's snowy cravat. He wasn't deaf. His relief at seeing the carriage had been boundless. His relief that they were only shouting and not throwing dishes was even more boundless.

“I have no further wish for the carriage, Greybar. Her ladyship will be remaining here. You may tell Lanscombe to bring around my curricle.”

Greybar looked ready to argue. He popped his knuckles, something Phillip had never seen him do in his life. He cleared his throat. It nearly sent Phillip over the edge. “The curricle, Greybar. Now. No arguments. Get to it.”

“Yes, my lord.”

When Greybar had closed the dining-room door behind him, Phillip turned again to his wife. “Answer my question, Sabrina. Did you want me to stay with you last night?”

She'd had two minutes to ready herself. She examined her fingernail. “I said it was the most special night in a woman's life unless she knew what men
were really like.” She raised her violet eyes, startlingly dark in her anger. “I have had experience with men, my lord. Trevor taught me a lot. You have taught me even more. Do you think I would want you to maul me as men do women? Do you think I'm completely and utterly stupid?”