“You’re a fool, Phillip. Get out of my room.”
“Not just yet, madam.” He was on her in the next instant. He threw her over his shoulder and walked to her bed. He pulled her over his legs and struck her with the flat of his hand. She tried to rear up, but he just smacked her again.
She cursed him but he just laughed. He gave her one extra smack, then pulled her to her feet to stand beside him.
“In the future when you throw things at me, this will be your punishment. Next time, I’ll pull up that gown and petticoat of yours and you’ll feel my hand. This was nothing, so don’t you ever throw it up to me. Good night, Sabrina.”
He left her room without a backward glance. She yelled after him, “To think I actually believed living with you here was preferable to that miserable hotel. What a fool I was.”
The door slammed open and he stuck his head in. “Don’t push me, Sabrina.”
“Push you? I’ve done nothing to you if you but had the brain to realize it.”
She was standing there, panting, and he heard the dreadful pain in her voice. He couldn’t stand it. He st
epped into her bedchamber. “Sabrina,” he said, his hand stretched out toward her.
She gave a small cry and ran to the other side of the bed. It gave her courage and both of them knew it. “You’ve said, my lord, that this is your house. Tell me, how much would you say that this bedchamber is worth? I would gladly pay you for it. Perhaps then you would stop reminding me how I must be grateful to you.”
“You may have this room. Good night again, Sabrina.”
“So you don’t want to hear about how I made Richard follow me to that private room, how I locked the door against the curious, and how, despite his noble protests, I seduced the Marquess of Arysdale? It’s in my blood, don’t you think? After all, I did spend five days and nights with you. Yes, I’m a trollop, no doubt about that. I want to bed every man I meet after the enjoyment it brought me to be bedded by you. All that pleasure has driven my slut’s soul to seek more and more. Richard is so very dark and brooding, I’ll wager any number of ladies are after him. It makes my palms itch to touch him, just thinking about him.”
Phillip kept his mouth shut. He heard the hysterical pitch in her voice. He merely nodded to her and shut the door behind him. She stood there, staring at that door, biting her lip, her eyes bright with tears she prayed wouldn’t fall. She wouldn’t cry for him.
No, she would never cry again.
37
He said to her over luncheon three days later, “Listen to me, Sabrina. We live in the same house. But when I see you, you simply look through me. You’re agreeable, I won’t deny that, but you’re just not here. You avoid me. It’s enough. There’s no reason for this false submissiveness of yours. It’s driving me mad. I want you to change.”
She’d set down her fork and looked at him with great seriousness as he spoke, all her attention seemingly focused on him. But he knew it wasn’t true. It was in that instant that he decided to take her to Dinwitty Manor. Out of London, away from all the cursed memories. Things would be different at Dinwitty. Cook could stuff food into her face, food that was ambrosia. She could help him design his tower. He hadn’t looked at his drawings since last summer. But he was getting the itch again. He was ready now to begin again. He loved to build. He wondered if Sabrina would enjoy all the planning, watching the builders curse and sweat and fashion what he’d drawn. He’d write to Rohan and Susannah and invite them to come visit. Yes, that’s what he’d do.
“How would you like me to change, Phillip? Whatever you wish, I will certainly do my best to comply.”
At that moment he believed he’d give just about anything to have her hurl a plate at his head. But she didn’t. She was sitting silently, her hands now folded in her lap. All that immense vitality of hers was extinguished. He hated it. Hell, he would lock her into the tower once it was built, if she was still acting this way.
“I want you to stand up. I want you to walk to me. I want you to kiss me.”
Without hesitation, she rose and walked to him. She stood beside his chair, then leaned down and touched her mouth to his. A fleeting light touch, nothing at all behind it, no feeling, no anger, just nothing.
Then she simply walked away, toward the window. She pulled back the draperies and looked out at the gray, overcast winter day.
“Would you like to go to Almack’s this evening? You love to waltz. Would that please you?”
“If it would please you, then naturally it would be my pleasure as well.”
She didn’t even turn to face him as she spoke. It enraged him. “I’m asking what you’d prefer, Sabrina.”
She turned and lowered her head. The toes of her slippers were more important, more interesting, than he was. She said, “I thought you found Almack’s boring. It also looks as if it might snow today. The clouds are low and very dark.”
“Who cares if it bloody well snows? I like to waltz with you.”
“I see,” she said. She drew her shawl more closely around her shoulders, nodding to him, and said, “I will naturally do your bidding.”
“Don’t leave. Sit down.”
Without a word, she sat down.