“Sod off.”
Ramsay’s chuckle was cool and mirthless. “I’ll be in touch.”
The footsteps beside Sterling stopped, and he needn’t look around to confirm his former boss was nowhere to be found, vaporized into the nighttime fog like the specter he was.
Chapter Eleven
Alaina managed toavoid her husband for the remainder of that day, leaving her to spend several hours making her planned calls without hindrance, take the rest of her meals in peace, and see to the tasks she needed to accomplish without further intrusion. As she helped Alaina fix the damage the damp wind had done to her hair, Penny had offhandedly mentioned that the duke had gone out to see to some business. Alaina couldn’t have cared less where he went…as long as he stayed out of her way. Her mind and her heart could not handle Sterling’s polarizing effect. One minute, she wished he’d never stop kissing and touching her, the next, her heart cracked all over again when she thought about all the ways he’d betrayed their marriage. Space was good; space could allow her to breathe and sort through the emotions he unleashed within her. She had plenty of other things requiring her attention.
Her Reading Society gathered the following afternoon in the blue drawing room at Morton House once more. Ladies were scattered about, sharing sofas and perched upon dainty chairs, flounced down on ottomans. Tea and delicate iced cakes had been laid out beside a selection of buttery shortbread and gingersnaps. The room was filled with the pleasant clink of china, bubbly laughter, and excited conversation. Alaina surveyed the group with a sense of comfort. These were her people. Unlike her husband, they didn’t make her uneasy or set her world on its ear. She prided herself on the fact that she’d cultivated an environment where these women could be comfortable and that they all trusted one another. There was no artifice or peacocking here, only genuine companionship and striving toward common goals. Not only were they friends who shared an enjoyment of literature, but they pooled their resources together and championed worthy causes. Over time, they’d discovered that they might be ineffective separately, but, together, they could be a force for good. And Alaina would do everything in her power to guard this sanctuary.
After it was clear that most women had caught up with one another and enjoyed their refreshments, Alaina stood and called their meeting to order. The women quickly settled in and expectantly held their manuscripts in their laps. Some were marked with thin strips of colorful ribbons; others had folded corners of the parchment over to save their places. Each face looked to her with eager anticipation.
The discussion began.
As she’d anticipated, several of the first women to speak admitted to their skepticism as to the play’s true nature.
“A man essentially breaking a woman like a horse and creating a biddable wife is not normally within our purview,” said Mrs. Stratford, the actress’s daughter. “I don’t quite see how it fits the spirit of this Society,” she added not unkindly. Several heads bobbed in agreement.
“I’m having trouble understanding how Kate began so strong only to be cowed into becoming the woman Petruchio wanted her to be,” admitted Miss Jocelyn Finchley—a quiet young woman who usually remained on the outskirts of their conversations.
“Shouldn’t we be reading something more, I don’t know, empowering?” chimed in Lady Sommerfeld with a little Gallic lift of one shoulder.
“You didn’t see it as empowering?” Alaina asked, affecting a tone of deep concern. It was everything she could do not to smile when she met Juliette’s eye. Her friend had been integral in choosing the piece and working with Alaina to craft this plan. “How did you view Kate?” she asked the assembly.
“Tamed,” said one voice.
“Browbeaten,” chimed in another.
“Forced to fulfill a role she didn’t want by a society that viewed her only as a pawn,” said Miss Finchley. Several wide eyes swiveled to the young lady. This seemed to strike a nerve as several more members spoke up in agreement.
Alaina waited patiently for the murmurs and side conversations to die down before she spoke again. “I interpreted Kate as supremely powerful and infinitely more cunning than Petruchio.” Several women sat back in disbelief. “I am a firm believer that Mr. Shakespeare was crafting one of the first truly powerful female leads of the stage when he wrote Kate. Here, allow me to demonstrate…”
Sterling was seatedat the desk in his study, innocently reading through some correspondence, when the most unholy shrieking reached his ears.
Body still tainted with wisps of the bloodlust unleashed the night before, he was quicker to act than he was to think.
Alaina was in trouble, and blood would spill.
Heart pounding, he threw down his papers and sprang from the chair fast enough to send it banging to the floor. He sped out into the hall just as another screech shattered the peace of the house. Sprinting toward the sound, his mind frantically raced with possibilities, his muscles tensing for battle, as he burst through the door to the blue drawing room near the front of the house.
And into a space brimming with Society women.
Some were standing, others were sitting, but all of them had the same manuscript open in their hands or draped across their laps. And, to a one, they stared at him with the same astonished expression.
In the center of it all was his wife.
Alaina smiled sweetly at his harried, hurried appearance. She cared not one whit that his heart was beating out of his chest, that he’d feared her in mortal danger and desired nothing more than to charge headlong into the fray to give his life for hers.
That should have been Sterling’s first clue that this situation did not bode well for him.
“Hello, Morton,” Alaina greeted him in an unfamiliar chirping tone. “Your timing is impeccable as we find ourselves in need of a convincing Petruchio.”
He released his body’s tension in a low, deep exhalation and straightened his posture. A couple of women tittered from behind their papers. It was now the second time he’d barged in on one of these meetings and he’d certainly made enough of a memorable impression at this point. He had to save face however he could if he was to retain any dignity.
Alaina accepted the manuscript offered to her by a fair, raven-haired woman before crossing the room and holding it out to him. It had already been marked to a specific page with a strip of ivory cloth.
His second clue, that minx. She had prepared for him—this was no whim.
