The Offer (Baron 2)

She threw her plate at the closed door.

Phillip heard that plate. He paused a moment, then shook his head. No, let her hurl plates if it helped her realize what was real and what wasn’t. He would bring her to pleasure and that would improve her opinion of him. A woman always liked a man who brought her to pleasure, always was more ready to excuse him, always was more ready to forgive him. He began whistling again, out the door and onto Tasha’s back for a gallop on Heathrow common.

“Is her ladyship about, Greybar?”

It was late afternoon. Phillip had enjoyed a full day and was ready to see the slip of a girl who was his wife, the slip of a girl he’d teach pleasure to this very evening. Then he frowned. Perhaps that would be spoiling her. Perhaps he should be gone this evening. He didn’t want her to think he was some sort of panting dog to sit at her feet.

“I believe her ladyship is with Mr. Blackador, my lord, planning the menu for the dinner party.”

“Well hell, I’d forgotten all about that.”

“It would be wise for you to refresh your brain, my lord. It’s three evenings from now. If you don’t mind my saying so, her ladyship is one who knows just how things should be done. Mr. Blackador has already sent out the invitations. Don’t you recall? You scrutinized the list yourself yesterday.”

“Oh yes, I did. This party will be just the thing to make her ladyship shine.” He rubbed his hands together. “Ah, yes, Greybar, trust me to ensure that she’s smiling, quite a lot.”

Greybar looked as if he’d swallow his teeth. He knew, of course, that the bride was no longer a virgin, the maid having informed Mrs. Hawley of the blood in the basin, and Mrs. Hawley having duly informed him, over tea in her rooms, as was proper. His lordship was being fatuous. Greybar, not for the first time in the past week, wanted to hit his master. Instead, he stared fixedly at the wainscoting.

“I’ve decided I want her in the bedchamber adjoining mine. It will be much easier that way. Do have the carpenter and all those folk to help select furnishings and wallpaper come and talk to me. Or rather, perhaps it would be better for them to see her ladyship. Yes, there’s no reason why she couldn’t see to this. She’s young but I don’t think she’s particularly incompetent.”

“My lord, she’s your wife.”

“She certainly is now,” Phillip said, and went off to find his wife.

He found both Sabrina and Paul Blackador in the library, Paul sitting near her, a tablet on his lap and a pen in his hand.

“Hello, Paul, Sabrina,” he said easily as he strolled into the room. “I see the two of you are planning our orgy. Is everything all right?” Even as he spoke, Phillip saw that even though Sabrina was wearing a very pretty pale yellow gown that did incredibly wonderful things to that glorious auburn hair of hers, her face was pale and there were dark smudges under her violet eyes. Damn, he shouldn’t have indulged himself with her so much the previous night. Three times was excessive, particularly for a new wife and a virgin. But he’d wanted her, very much and she’d given herself to him. She’d told him she loved him, had loved him since that long-ago evening at Moreland. It was nonsense.

Her voice sounded equal parts anger and defeat, surely an odd combination. “Good afternoon, my lord. It’s such a pleasure to see you again. One would hardly imagine that this is your home, given the small number of hours you spend here, but whose business is that?”

“Certainly not yours, madam,” he said, then softened it because Paul was there, and he looked so nervous he just might faint. “I see you’re working on our party.”

“Yes, we’re planning the menu. Paul has excellent advice.”

Paul Blackador had seldom ever given Phillip advice. He usually just nodded and kept his head down. Was she making fun of his secretary? Phillip looked at Paul, whose pleasant, sensitive face was undergoing a series of contortions. “Shall we discuss this over tea, Sabrina?”

“I’m not thirsty, my lord. There is a lot still to be done. Paul and I are quite busy, as you can surely see.”

“Then you will eat some of Cook’s lemon cakes. Come, Sabrina. I won’t ask you again.”

She wanted to tell him to hie himself to the devil along with all the details, but she saw that Paul was in agony. “Very well, my lord. Paul, can you carry on without me?”

“Certainly. I have many other matters to attend to, my lady.” He looked first at his master, then at his mistress, who had two spots of color high on her cheekbones. Then he dropped his tablet. Phillip arched an eyebrow. He could have sworn he heard his very mild-tempered secretary curse. He had to grin, but he did manage to keep his mouth shut.

When she was pouring him tea, strong and dark, as he liked it, he said, “I hope you’re still not angry with me about my misplaced gallantry regarding your inheritance.”

“No,” she said as she handed him the teacup. “I’ve decided I want it all. I want to be financially independent. I don’t want to be pulled about on your string. Thank you for offering it back to me. I accept. If you would like to reconsider giving me back my dowry, why I’ll take that too, gladly.”

“No, not the dowry. You may have the other. That’s fine. It’s what I wanted.” He frowned at her. He didn’t like the way she’d changed her mind. The mann

er of it wasn’t particularly as he would envision it should be, and it was obvious to even a blockhead that she was goading him, her sarcasm slamming him right between the eyes. Of course she didn’t need to be financially independent. It was the grand gesture, merely an affirmation of his beneficence. She was his wife. Did she believe he’d throw her in a ditch and let her starve?

“Is there anything else I’ve done to offend you? After all, in the short time I’ve known you, you’ve pointed out a large number of flaws in my character. Do you wish to continue pointing now?”

“No, I have no more for the moment. I trust you enjoyed yourself all day today wherever you went, whatever you did, and with whomever you did it.”

“Yes, thank you.” He sipped his tea. It was China black tea, his favorite. “Now, tell me about the arrangements for your first dinner party.”

“My dinner party? Aren’t you going to attend? Oh, I see, you have more important activities planned for that evening. Perhaps you’re escorting Martine to Vauxhall?”