Page 17

Taking out a book from the small bag she had requested be placed in the carriage, she attempted to read, but the jolting of the carriage combined with the ache in her head made her feel ill, so she put the book aside and stared somewhat resentfully at her spouse.

Her maid and Kenrick’s valet had gone ahead with their luggage to pave the way for them and would already have arrived at St Albans, so at least when they did arrive, she was assured of a bath and good meal.

Would he attempt to consummate their marriage tonight, or would he wait until they arrived at Woodrow Manor in Bedfordshire? She had only the vaguest memories of the house, for she had been very young when she’d left it and had never been back. She rather thought she would punish him a little for his rudeness and make him wait. After all, she did have a headache, so it wasn’t as if she would be lying about that. In fact, the more she thought about it, the more she felt justified in making him wait. He should earn the right to bed her, not assume that right.

She had read somewhere that it was best to begin as one meant to go on in a new endeavor, and it would be as well to ensure that he didn’t think he could ride roughshod over her feelings and wants. Otherwise, this marriage would be untenable—for them both. She meant to ensure that he would give her due consideration and not treat her like a—an ornament!

She dozed eventually, and it was Kenrick who woke her when they reached their destination. He reached into the carriage and picked her up bodily by the waist and set her on her feet, reminding her viscerally that her husband was not only big, but surprisingly strong and decidedly male. Standing within the circle of his hands spanning her waist, she looked up at him startled, and he smiled down at her with a lazy smile that seemed to suggest he found the world an amusing place.

“We have arrived, sleeping beauty. I believe your maid has organized you a bath. I’ll see you for dinner in the dining room.” And he sauntered away to see to the horses, leaving her slightly breathless.

She discovered that the vexed question of the wedding night was taken out of her hands. They were sleeping in separate rooms. Somehow that infuriated her. She ought to be relieved, but having the decision made for her annoyed her. Which was, she knew, unreasonable. She made her way upstairs to her room where Mary, her maid, had indeed got a steaming hot bath almost full for her.

Sinking into the hot water washed away some of her ill temper, and she met her husband downstairs an hour later for dinner in a better frame of mind. She noted that he seemed more inclined to eat than he had that morning, and now that she was free of the carriage she was hungry herself.

“Our rooms are adjacent, but lock your door. Mary will share your bed.”

“Good heavens, why?” she asked, irritated at this high-handedness.

“Because paying for four rooms is an unnecessary expense. Reynolds is sharing with me.”

She swallowed a mouthful of wine along with this piece of intelligence and addressed her chicken somewhat mulishly.

“My lady is not pleased?” he remarked lightly.

“I am not accustomed to sharing my bed,” she said.

His lips twitched. “I see. Were you planning to lock your door against me too?”

She gasped. “That’s different! I assumed you would have your own room and—come to me when you wished—” She broke off, flushing.

He swallowed some wine and picked up a forkful of chicken. “I shall of course, but am I to gather you’d rather I not stay afterward?”

She hadn’t got that far in her thinking and was flabbergasted to be discussing it. “I suppose you will do as you choose, my lord,” she said stiffly.

“Hmm.”

Conversation lapsed after that, and he bade her goodnight at her door, with a kiss on her hand. The old-fashioned, courtly gesture took her by surprise.

She slept badly, tossing and turning most of the night going over the things she should have said to put him in his place instead of behaving like a ninny. He had her on the backfoot at every turn, and it would not do. She had to get the upper hand in this relationship, or she would be miserable for the rest of her life. The man was impossible. It was past two when she finally fell asleep with a half-formed plan to turn the tables on her rude and inconsiderate spouse.

As a consequence, she woke late with little time to do more than swallow a mouthful of coffee and a slice of toast before being bundled into the coach. Mary and Reynolds had left at first light so that they might arrive before them. But this was not how she had planned the day to start in her imagination at two in the morning. Her resolve seemed to have faded when sleep overtook her.

Kenrick lounged on the other side of the carriage and smiled at her. Which made her teeth clench.

“You’re not an early riser.”

“I didn’t sleep well!” she said, arranging herself in her seat.

“Ah, that would explain it. Did Mary snore?”

“No!” She glared at him, suspecting him of baiting her. The smile in his eyes certainly suggested that he was.

“You know you look like an infuriated kitten when you’re annoyed,” he said.

Her eyes widened, and she snapped, “That is very patronizing, my lord.”

He shrugged and made himself comfortable.