“Are you trying to kill me?” she demanded with a cough.
“Kill you?” his voice rose. “I always brought roses whenever I called upon you.”
“Well, I am horribly allergic.” She sniffed and wiped ineffectually at her eyes. “Clearly. But Mother insisted it would be rude to refuse them and forbade me to tell you of my condition. And, besides, I don’t even care for roses.”
*
Sterling looked heavenwardfor strength. God save all well-intentioned men from the subterfuge of marriage-minded mamas.
He ran an exasperated hand through his once-tidy hair and looked back at his wife. It was clear this was no act; her reaction had been so violent and instantaneous. Her eyes were puffy and her elegant nose was red; her voice had adopted a ragged quality as she struggled to be understood around coughs and sneezes. He felt tremendously guilty for having put her through this—and that he didn’t have the pockets for ten more handkerchiefs—but he couldn’t have known. She said so herself. Here, he’d been trying to do something kind with a grand gesture…towoohis wife…and it had ended disastrously.
How appropriate.
“Then what flowersdoyou like?” he asked gently as he stepped closer and used the pad of his thumb to brush a tear from her cheek. This was the closest they’d been in days. He shouldn’t have enjoyed her nearness when she was in such a pathetic state, but he couldn’t help it. The heat from her body called to him in a primal way. “Ones that won’t cause another crisis, that is,” he added, his voice barely over a gravelly whisper.
Alaina looked up at him and did her best to approximate an eye roll. “I believe the more appropriate question is why you’re only justnowasking.” She took several steps backward and dabbed at the cheek he’d touched as if trying to scrub him away. “If you’ll excuse me, I need to splash water on my face.” She turned in a flurry of mint-colored skirts and headed back toward the staircase. Sterling watched her until she disappeared before turning back to the morning room.
After releasing a frustrated growl, Sterling wrenched open the doors. What an unmitigated disaster. He yanked on the bellpull and surveyed the scene, trying not to consider how much money had gone into this farce.
Shortly, several maids poked their heads in through the servants’ doorway, careful not to knock over any of the floral arrangements.
“See that all of this is cleaned up.”
“Yes, Your Grace,” the first one bobbed a curtsy. “Where would you like us to take them?”
“I care not,” he snapped, and the little maid jumped. He breathed in air thick with roses before continuing in a more tempered tone. He was frustrated with his failure and ignorance and shouldn’t take it out on others. “Throw them out. Give them to sweethearts or family. Donate them somewhere. Just don’t allow a single rose to remain in this household.”
He didn’t think he was mistaken when he thought he glimpsed both maids attempting to hide knowing smiles behind deferential dipped heads.
Of course, Sterling thought morosely while the roses were slowly whisked away by the armful. The staff would know of his wife’s allergy and her aversion to roses. They were probably having a great laugh below stairs at his expense.
Round one had been a complete and utter failure.
Now, how to move forward and try to win round two?
*
It was nearlyhalf an hour before Alaina recovered enough to request that Penny bring some food to her rooms. She had absolutely no desire to face Sterling anytime soon after the flower debacle.
Her head felt stuffed with lead; her eyes still itched and her nose was clogged, but at least she’d stopped her coughing, sneezing, and wheezing. Any dignity she’d had in her appearance earlier that morning had been destroyed by the incident downstairs. The neckline of her dress was damp from the water she’d splashed on her face and used to rinse her eyes. Her once neat hair had begun to slip from its pins. And she refused to gaze in the looking glass because she knew she’d find a splotchy red complexion with hopelessly swollen eyes. How utterly unattractive. Not only that, but now she’d have to rearrange her schedule and she hated doing that.
She sighed and leaned her head back against the wall of the window seat in her suite. Closing her eyes did nothing to relieve the sensation of abrading sand, so she gave up and pulled her knees to her chest beneath her crossed arms, resting her chin atop them.
She considered the room crammed full of flowers downstairs; the number of bouquets would likely have paid any London florist’s rent for the next several months.
It was all rather ridiculous, really.
And excessive.
And immensely charming, were she to analyze it from an objective standpoint.
If Alaina set aside her feelings, she might be able to admit that Sterling’s gesture had been sweet and entirely unexpected, especially given the frigidity that often filled the space between them since his return. When he’d stood there surrounded by those noxious bushels of roses…
He’d looked so handsome and hopeful. The glint in his eyes would likely have taken her breath away had she not been choked with pollen.
Standing before her had been more than a hint of the man she’d known in her youth. She’d been a girl again, hopelessly close to falling in love with the charming, thoughtful young duke.
Even if his gesture had created such a mess, Alaina had her suspicions about his motivations…and the realization unnerved her. He was making an effort with gestures, trying a new tactic to ingratiate himself.
