The Sherbrooke Bride (Sherbrooke Brides 1)

“Of course I can. I have a meeting with Mrs. Peacham to talk about replacing all the linens. The ones on my bed smell like moth bait.”

“Alexandra, I would that you cease this nonsense and—”

“Damn you, don’t be so stupid! I must relieve myself!”

“Oh, well that’s different.”

“Just go away. I hate you. Go away and leave me be.”

Douglas frowned down at her. He was still firmly set upon his plan to make her deliriously happy by accepting her as his wife, but she didn’t particularly seem in the mood to be the recipient of this proffered bliss. He’d left her alone the previous evening, wanting her to rest, wanting her to regain some strength before he made her the happiest woman on earth. And now here she was acting like a termagant, acting as if he were the devil himself, acting as if she weren’t at all pleased to see him. And he was her husband and he’d taken fine care of her.

Unaccountable twit.

He scooped her up in his arms, saying even as she tried to push away from him, “Just shut up and hold still. I will take you to the chamber pot. No, keep your damned mouth shut.”

“You will leave.”

“Not until you’re back in bed.”

She subsided because she doubted she could get back to bed without his assistance. She should have rung for Tess. Douglas left her behind the screen. She managed, but it was difficult for her, knowing that he was standing just on the other side of the screen. He was so close and he could hear everything. It left her body nearly paralyzed.

When she emerged, finally, he made no remarks. He picked her up again, continued to remain thankfully silent until he’d tucked her under the covers in her bed.

“There, that wasn’t quite such an appalling degradation, was it? You did take rather a long time with the chamber pot, but—Do you think you can sleep again or would you like some laudanum?”

“Go away.” She gave him a brooding look, realized that she wasn’t behaving well, and said in a voice that was as stiff as her back, “Thank you for helping me. I’m sorry I woke you. I’m sorry I hit that chair and that it bumped the desk and made the ink pot fall and the ink ruin that beautiful carpet. I will replace the carpet. I do have some money of my own.”

“Do you now? I find that difficult to believe. Your precious father didn’t have a bloody sou. Both you and Melissande left your homes without a dowry. You don’t even have an idea of the settlement your father made with Tony, do you? For that matter, you don’t even know if I’m going to give you any sort of allowance at all. Hell, if I do give you an allowance, and you graciously replace the carpet, why I’ll still be paying for the damned rug after all.”

“No you won’t. I have thirty pounds with me. I have saved that amount over the past four years.”

“Thirty pounds! Ha! That would replace a chamber pot or two, not a carpet of value.”

“Perhaps it can be cleaned.”

Douglas looked over at the ruined carpet, its exquisite pattern black as soot. “Yes, and perhaps one of Napoleon’s ministers will throw a cake in his face.”

“Anything is possible.”

“You’re too young to realize that idiots continue to survive in this world. Go back to sleep. You are absurdly confident and it is annoying.”

So much for making her a happy woman, Douglas thought as he marched back into his bedchamber. How could she act so spitefully? What the devil was the matter with her? He’d been the perfect gentleman, the devil, he’d probably saved her life with the fine care he’d given her and what was his reward? She hated him. She told him to leave her alone. She destroyed one of his grandmother’s favorite carpets.

Douglas fell asleep with the acrid taste of anger on his tongue.

It was Friday morning. Alexandra ordered Tess to dress her after she’d bathed. She still felt a bit weak, but nothing she couldn’t deal with. It was time for her to leave. She was buoyed by righteous resolve and she prayed it would last until she was gone from Northcliffe Hall.

He’d rejected her. He’d treated her as if she were naught but a bothersome gnat, a sexless encumbrance.

She’d destroyed his grandmother’s lovely rug.

He’d laughed at her thirty pounds. He had no idea how difficult it had been to accumulate that thirty pounds, penny by penny, hoarding it.

Not only had he rejected her when she’d been fool enough to attempt the disastrous seduction, he’d only cared for her because there’d been no choice.

It was a litany in her mind. It was something she would never forget. She stoked anger and resentment because it was better than the annihilating pain of his disinterest in her, his distaste of her.

She had failed, utterly, to win him over, to show him that she could suit him nicely, that she could and would love him until the day she passed from this earth. What had he meant about giving her an allowance? She quashed that inquiry; he’d not meant anything.