Page 14 of Truly, Madly, Daring

Emmeline hurried to use the necessary, holding tight to her cloak as a bitter wind tugged at it and tried to wrest her bonnet from her head. She was more than pleased to return to the warmth of the private parlour where Wrexham had already been settled. He was looking rather travel-worn and not half as immaculate as usual. Dark gold stubble glinted at his jaw and Emmeline had the near irresistible urge to touch it. She supposed she might have the right to such intimacies once they were married, but this wasn’t a marriage in the usual sense. He’d been very clear about that, taking pains to reassure her he had no expectations regarding the marriage bed.

Emmeline had not known what to make of that. His reputation, before he’d lost his sight, was well documented. He’d been a wild young man, known as a libertine, so why would he not wish to consummate their marriage? Emmeline suspected it had more to do with him than it did her. Perhaps the accident that had stolen his sight had other, less obvious, implications. That was an unwelcome thought. Though he had been quite explicit in his offer to her, and whilst he had explained the possibility of losing his mind, he had reassured her in was otherwise in excellent health. If he’d been afflicted with syphilis or another disease of the sort that might lead to insanity, she felt confident he would have told her so. Either way, whilst she was not about to treat his wishes with disrespect, or force an issue on which he might have strong feelings, she had every intention of doing all in her power to have the kind of marriage her parents had. Somehow, she must learn to understand him and gain his trust, and figure out how she could make this beautiful man her husband in every way, not just on paper. Otherwise, she might just run mad.

His head turned towards her as she entered the room. “Miss Knight?”

“Yes?” Emmeline wondered how he had known it was her, but was too tired to question him, only wanting to warm herself before the fire. She hurried to it, holding out her cold hands with a sigh of pleasure.

“You are eating in the parlour next door,” he said.

Emmeline turned to look at him. “I’m sorry?”

“It’s not complicated. You’ll be served next door. Janet will stay with you for propriety.” He sounded testy, and Emmeline wondered if she ought to let it go, knowing how he disliked eating in front of her.

Yet that would create distance between them, and she did not want that.

“No. Thank you. I’ll stay here. It’s a delightfully bright room. The other is bound to face north. It will be colder and darker.”

His expression clouded. “Fine. You stay here. I’ll move. It makes no difference to me.”

Well, she ought to have expected that. “And leave me to eat by myself? Did you not tell the innkeeper I was your wife? Everyone will assume you despise me. No, I thank you.”

He made an impatient sound. “Damn it, don’t be difficult. I assure you, seeing me eat will put you off your own dinner. My manners are not what they once were.”

“If banishing your fiancée to eat alone is any indication, I should say they are not,” she retorted. “I refuse to marry a man who won’t eat dinner with me.”

He went very still, the colour draining from his complexion in a rush. For a moment, Emmeline wondered if she ought to take the words back.

“You… You would renege on our agreement?” he asked, and the anxiety in his voice made her heart ache.

Emmeline opened her mouth to deny it, to say she didn’t mean it, but he spoke again before she could open her mouth.

“Fine,” he said, folding his arms. “Have it your own way, but don’t say you weren’t warned.”

“Thank you,” she said politely, and moved to the place beside him.

His body vibrated with tension, and she sat with caution, too aware of his displeasure. She racked her brain for a safe topic of conversation, but could think of nothing beyond her own desire for a hot bath and a bed.

The innkeeper hurried in with a maid in tow who laid the table with jugs of ale and wine, and left cutlery and a basket of bread. The maid hurried out again.

“We’ve an excellent beef stew, should it please you, my lord?” the innkeeper said, looking a bit overawed at having a marquess in his midst. “Or there’s—”

“I’ll just have some bread and cheese. My wife may have whatever she pleases.”

“Beef stew, enough for us both, please. In case his lordship changes his mind,” Emmeline said, sending the inn keeper a dazzling smile.

The man hesitated, clearly torn between obeying a marquess and disrespecting his wife.

“Damn you,” Rex muttered furiously. “I said—”

“My lord, we’re both famished,” Emmeline said gently. “I know you’re cross with me, but please. I shall only fret myself to death if you don’t eat something. For my sake, won’t you have a proper meal?”

There was an electric silence, and Emmeline watched a muscle in his jaw leap. She thought he might be grinding his teeth.

“As my wife commands,” he said finally, his tone measured as he addressed the innkeeper.

The man nodded and hurried out. The door closed, leaving them alone, and the only sound was Emmeline’s heart thudding in her ears. Had she gone too far? Ought she have respected his wishes? Contradicting the Marquess of Wrexham in front of the innkeeper was dreadfully improper. Many men would have reacted very badly indeed at their wife offering such a slight to their authority in public, and they weren’t even married yet. Doubts rushed in making her feel like a harridan. Her husband was a grown man who knew his own mind, but he was also assuming he knew what she would think of him, and on that he was mistaken. Besides, he was a large man who surely needed a deal of feeding. A meal of bread and cheese would do him no good and he’d be hungry again in no time.

“Are you very angry?” she asked tentatively, studying his face.