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Victoria didn’t wait to see if Rafael would follow her. She assumed that he wouldn’t. She trailed after Mrs. Ripple up the narrow stairs to the second floor. At the end of the corridor the housekeeper threw open the door and announced that this was the master’s suite. Victoria’s eyes went to the large, stark-looking bed, and she shuddered. Mrs. Ripple kept up her enthusiastic monologue, and Victoria followed her into the adjoining bedchamber. It was very feminine, with quantities of pale blue ruffles on the spread and canopy. The furnishings were a combination of a soft cream and the same pale blue, the thick carpet swirls of blue and cream. Victoria regained a few wits, realizing that Mrs. Ripple had paused and was looking at her.
“I beg your pardon. What did you say?”
“You’re weary, my dear. Why don’t you rest? You and Captain Carstairs can dine in an hour. Is that all right?”
“Certainly. Thank you.” Anything was all right with her at the moment. She wanted only to lie down, close her eyes ,and stop thinking and feeling.
“Get up.”
The curt orders quickly penetrated and Victoria jerked awake to see Rafael standing beside her bed.
“It’s time to dine.”
His expression was implacable, his eyes as bright as polished silver. She shivered.
“Do you need Mrs. Ripple?”
“No.”
“I will see you in the dining room, then.” She watched him stride from her room.
When she entered the dining room, a very small, intimate room paneled with dark wainscoting, her husband was standing next to the table, a glass of wine in his hand.
He downed the rest of the w
ine in one gulp, motioning her to sit down. Very well, she thought, squaring her shoulders. No more cowering.
Unfortunately, she had to hold her tongue until finally Mrs. Ripple had left them.
“Beef?”
“Yes, thank you.”
“Potatoes?”
“Yes, thank you.”
“You didn’t change your gown.”
“No. I didn’t feel like it.”
“Stewed vegetables? Green beans, I believe.”
“No.”
“Your hair looks as if it hadn’t seen a brush in a fortnight.”
She opened her mouth, and he quickly cut her off. “I know, you didn’t feel like combing out the rat’s nest.”
Victoria forced herself to eat three bites of everything, though the beef was stringy, the potatoes half-boiled. She drank a glass of wine. Rafael said nothing and neither did she. She was ready for the offensive when Mrs. Ripple entered the dining room. She looked from one of them to the other, her gaze bright.
Victoria sighed, thanked the woman, and rose.
Rafael didn’t even look up.
“Good night,” she said, and marched from the room.
Fortunately, her anger didn’t have time to burn itself out. She heard Rafael’s footsteps not an hour later. She waited ten more minutes, then opened the adjoining door without knocking.
