Whatever he called her, he suspected she would not be easy to control. How inept to assume otherwise. She would not placidly obey, but neither would she argue or cajole. She would tease and trick and torment, and Rafe would somehow have to survive.
“The fact is, we did just get married,” she said, as though continuing a discussion that, as far as Rafe could recall, had not started. “So it would be as well for us to—”
“Not necessary.”
“But I’m your wife.”
“Which does not require further discussion.”
“And a countess too.” With an impish smile, she executed a neat pirouette, her skirts swishing around her. Brown half boots covered the famously fascinating ankles, but he caught a glimpse of shapely, stockinged calves. “Isn’t that exciting?”
Rafe looked away from her legs. “No.”
“Is it exciting to be an earl?”
“No.”
“But being a countess will be exciting.”
“Unlikely.”
“I shall have lots of new gowns.”
“Not a one.”
“But I must.” She gave him a haughty look. “The best countesses are very elegant.”
“The best countesses are very quiet.”
“But—”
“They never talk.”
“Oh.”
A shape appeared in the mist at the end of the road. That had better be his blasted carriage. He would put Thea in it and ride alongside and never speak to her again.
Back at the vicarage, he saw, Miss Larke was in conversation with the vicar’s wife. Even Rafe had heard of Miss Arabella Larke, the notoriously proud heiress. How had Thea secured such a lady’s friendship? Miss Larke hardly seemed the sort to suffer sycophants or be easily duped, and Thea’s scandal should have kept every respectable lady away.
“Now, I have my doubts,” Thea said, “but Ma and Pa always said that a title is the best thing in the world.”
“Congratulations, Countess. You passed one whole minute without talking.”
She frowned. “I don’t think that’s the correct way to address me.”
“I shall address you however I please.”
“Of course, because you’re an earl. So you must be happy to have a title.”
“No.”
“But—”
“I am the third of five sons. I neither expected nor wanted to be earl. My eldest brother John was an excellent man and an excellent earl and if there were any justice he would never have died.”
“Then your next brother—”
“Philip was an awful man, and if there were any justice he would never have been born. But if there were any justice, the title would have skipped me and gone to my next brother, Christopher, who is a Member of Parliament and would make an excellent earl. It’s an absurd system.”
“But you benefit from it.”
“Which proves my point,” he muttered.
Besides, he could hardly consider the title a benefit when worthier men like his father and brother John had to die for him to have it.
She lapsed into silence, and Rafe watched the torturously slow approach of the carriage. How long until she started talking again? Ten, nine, eight—
“Are you a good earl?” she asked.
“‘Good’ as in competent, moral, or well-behaved?”
“Any of those.”
“No.”
Not that Rafe could bring himself to care. A peer’s purpose was to govern in the House of Lords, but politics was beyond him. All those people. All that talking. Schemes and ambitions, policies and demands. Read this. Listen to that. Sign here. Vote there. For his part, Christopher insisted he was happy as an MP in the House of Commons, where he could get more done.
And Rafe was about to become an even worse earl. As soon as he had the money from this invalid marriage, he would do what aristocrats never did: start a business. The idea alone could trigger an earthquake of genteel shudders.
“They don’t teach charm at earl school either, do they?” Thea said with some asperity.
“Charm is about making oneself liked by making people like themselves, and I don’t care if anyone likes me or themselves.”
“But how can you not want people to like you?”
“If people don’t like me, they don’t talk to me.”
“And you don’t like anyone, I suppose.”
“On the contrary. I like everyone who doesn’t talk to me.”
She cocked her head, considering. “But what about society?”
“Society? You mean people chittering and twittering like so many blasted birds? A whole world of wonders out there, and they chatter on about their petty concerns, the weather, their shoes, their horse, though there’s no point to any of it.”