Page 89 of An Inconvenient Vow

The thought had her sucking in her breath and sitting up straight in her saddle. Ridiculous. She was being ridiculous. Jeffree was not the kind to kiss servant girls. He thought himself far too superior to mix with his social inferiors. No, when he had fallen, it had been for a flinty-faced harpy like the Lady Meliora. Sabina breathed out again in a huff.

In any case, she did not care. Once she was safely ensconced in her own home, she would be finally free from the absurd whims of men and she could concentrate on the life she had always dreamed of. A life where she relied on herself for her day-to-day happiness and no one else.

The day wore on. Sabina grew weary. Jeffree did not halt until late afternoon, when he exchanged some brief words with Osborn, and the shambling servant bought her the waterskin and a handful of dry biscuits. Sabina accepted them and left her complaints unvoiced. Osborn was not her ally and would very likely delight in carrying tales to his master.

She felt stiff and sore from the saddle and bruised of spirit. As night fell, nameless dreads started filling her head that Alfred Hendry could have reinfested Morecotte in their absence or even burned it to the ground in revenge. She imagined having to return once more a despised bride to Ganford Chase and her heart quailed. She could not bear to go through all that again! She would rather return to her parents at Tipton Hall and that prospect was bad enough.

When she finally saw Morecotte’s shadow rising up out of the darkness, with a light showing at the window, no less, she could have cried aloud with happiness. Jeffree was so far ahead, that by the time she and Osborn reached the end of the lane, he had already roused the occupants and the Lancers were rallying around.

“I’ll take your horse, milady,” Lancer offered in his gruff way, and Sabina dismounted, gratefully passing Blitha into his care.

“Welcome home, milady,” Penny called out of the darkness.

“I am very glad to be home,” Sabina answered and allowed herself to be led inside. She was so tired by this point that she cast no more than a cursory look about at the freshly scrubbed interior before she was led to the supper table where a hasty meal had been thrown together for them of bread and pottage.

Hearing Jeffree’s voice in the hallway, Sabina craned her ears, trying to make out his words. Was he not joining her now?

She raised her own voice. “It is looking a good deal better,” she commented to Penny who was pouring her a cup of ale. The place certainly looked cleaner, though it looked somewhat bare now the damaged hangings had been removed, along with the battered-looking furniture.

“Oh yes, milady. Four of the servants from Ganford Chase come over and helped us to strip the place back and scour the walls and floors. Been right through the place we have.”

A cleared throat in the doorway had Sabina looking up. Jeffree stood there, and she noticed at once that he had not removed his boots or cloak. “I make now for Ganford Chase,” he said coolly.

Sabina lowered her spoon. “Ganford Chase?” she repeated.

“I will carry your regards to my uncle.”

Sabina stared at him. “Good of you,” she managed to force past her lips, seeing how curiously the Lancers were watching them both.

Jeffree nodded at her, then spun on his heel and was gone.

Well, thought Sabina. That was that. She was glad, she told herself a half an hour later as she climbed the stairs to bed. Glad. This was what she had wanted after all. To live at Morecotte as her own mistress. What need had she of a husband? Mayhap having one in name alone would be the best bargain of all.

This way she need not fear her parents marrying her off again, but she would not actually have a spouse underfoot to plague her life. She managed to keep up a bright patter of conversation with Penny as the excited maidservant led her through the house and up to the main bedchamber. Sabina was not surprised to find it only contained a narrow cot at present and one chair, for all the rooms were now but sparsely furnished.

“If you remember, your ladyship, you bade us up and burn the old ‘un,” Penny pointed out.

Sabina shuddered, slightly remembering the foul pit Hendry had slept in. “Quite right,” she agreed. “This is ample for my needs.” She smiled tightly. “You have been very busy, Penny. Thank you for all your hard work.”

“Not at all, milady. There’s a jug of hot water here,” Penny continued, gesturing toward the chair. “No doubt, now you and the master are returned you will be ordering new furniture for the place.”

Sabina hesitated. “I am sure,” she replied insincerely, for it now seemed obvious to her that Jeffree would go his separate way and return to the luxury of his quarters. For the first time, it occurred to her that living apart from a second husband would likely make her even more of a gossip’s target than she was before.

Suddenly Sabina felt fit to drop. Waving away Penny’s offer to help her disrobe, she stripped down to her shift for a thorough wash, though all she really wanted to do was crawl under the covers and close her eyes. Typically, once she was there, having blown out her candle, she lay wide awake, her eyes burning.

I love you, that was what he had said. Well, his feelings of love had certainly been fleeting! She should have been scathing, really told him what she thought of his supposed love. Instead, she had been worried about hurting his feelings. His feelings! As though he had any. She made a suppressed noise of irritation. Jeffree de Crecy was a selfish monster!

At least she could sleep this night without him flinging out his arms and legs and disordering the bedcovers, she thought, rolling onto her side. She would sleep like a babe tonight. She could snore her head off without worrying she would give him a disgust of her. Then, tomorrow, she would wake fresh and carefree without a muscular male encroaching on her space.

When she woke the next morning, Sabina did so with heavy eyelids and itchy eyes. She doubted she had snatched more than a couple of hours at most. It beggared belief that she had slept in a procession of strange beds better than she did in her own home.

She sat up, rubbing her face and groaning. She felt tired and irritable. Today was the first day in July, the birds were singing and the sky looked hazy with the promise of sunshine. Her spirits ought to be soaring, but instead, they were limp and leaden. She dragged herself out of bed, heavy of heart.

The next couple of hours did not improve her mood though the Lancers gave her a painstaking tour of everything that had been done to her house and grounds.

“You have both done very well,” she muttered for the umpteenth time as they showed her the freshly scrubbed pantry. “Where did all these new provisions come from?” she asked with surprise, seeing the sacks and barrels stacked in one corner.

“They were sent over from Ganford Chase,” Lancer told her, scratching his neck. “Grain and salted meat and fish. They’s sent ale and wine too which I put in the buttery. A quantity of things. One of His Grace’s stewards come over to do an inventory and went away with a long list.”