The Offer (Baron 2)

“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?”

It wasn’t what she would have said before Greybar’s unfortunate timing, he was sure of that, but for now, she’d dug in her heels. Given the short amount of time she’d had to prepare, she’d done a good job at slamming him into the floor. “Very well. Since it’s obvious you have no wish for my company, I shall take myself off. It is one of your duties to plan the menus with Mrs. Hawley. You will tell her that I shall be eating at my club this evening and won’t be here for dinner. Good day, Sabrina. I hope you won’t choke on your misplaced resentment.”

Sabrina didn’t leap on him, though she did have two ready fists. “You never told me if I should buy a small token of my appreciation for your mistress.”

“You will forget that my mistress exists,” he said, and left the dining room before he put her over his knee and pounded her bottom. But he paused, saying over his shoulder, “You will not throw her up to me again. I forbid it.”

He left before she could hurl another pot of jam at him. He’d seen another pot on the table, not far from her right hand.

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