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She promptly decided to give him the benefit of the doubt upon that issue. Because apart from anything else, it was a good way to argue herself out of being offended by Mr Slater’s mere presence, when Rawcliffe had led her to believe this was going to be a time for them to get to know each other as husband and wife.
Though, actually, wasn’t this a sort of getting to know him? She was certainly learning that he wasn’t the kind of man to neglect his duties to his estates, not even when on a bride trip.
Which made his jaunt into the wilds of Norfolk in pursuit of that Jenny person all the more remarkable. He’d put himself beyond the reach of even his secretary, never mind his friends. So he must have considered it a very important matter.
Which he didn’t want her to know anything about.
Even though she was his wife!
A wife who didn’t feel she had the right to question him about his movements now, let alone before they’d married.
She sighed as they approached another coaching inn.
‘Tired?’
Even though his carriage was very comfortable and she’d been regaled with all sorts of treats at every stop they’d made, she was growing rather weary of travelling.
‘A little,’ she admitted.
‘Then you will be pleased to hear we are going to break our journey here, overnight.’
She wondered where here was, precisely. And wondered if now would be a good time to finally break down and ask him. Not in front of Slater, though. But later, surely he couldn’t think she was being demanding, if she raised the topic…over dinner perhaps?
Yes, that was when she would ask him, over dinner. Because apart from anything else it would give them something to talk about, which wouldn’t lead to an argument, the way most of their encounters did.
Unless, of course, he invited Slater to dine with them, to prevent them from descending into the kind of childish bickering that nearly always developed whenever they were alone. Except when they were in bed, of course, in which case they didn’t do any talking at all. Not anymore. She just let him leave when he’d done, rather than demand more than he seemed willing to give her. It was better, she’d found, to feel a slight resentment over his behaviour than to behave badly herself.
Clare was glad to see Slater scuttle off to the nether regions of the inn while the landlord bowed and scraped her and Rawcliffe to a suite of rooms upstairs. Although it depressed her a bit to note that her husband would rather pay for two bedrooms than to have to share a bed with her all night.
‘Are the rooms not to your liking?’
She lifted her gaze from an inspection of the table upon which she guessed they would be dining in due course to find Rawcliffe inspecting her sardonically.
‘The rooms are lovely,’ she countered.
‘Then what has put that frown upon your face?’
She blushed. And decided that she wasn’t going to tell him that she’d been thinking about their sleeping arrangements and wishing that after taking her to the heights of pleasure, he wouldn’t always wreck it all by displaying such determination to get as far away from her as possible as swiftly as he could.
‘Um…’ She reached for something she might say to explain her thoughtful mien. ‘Actually, it has just occurred to me that I have no idea where we are going.’ Or where they were right now, come to that, not that it mattered.
It didn’t matter. She blinked at the revelation. She no longer cared where she was, all that much, or where she was going. Because…she trusted him.
For so many years, she’d been the one upon whom others depended. But now, within less than a week of becoming his wife, she had a deep and abiding faith that he was going to look after her.
She went to the nearest chair and sat down upon it. He’d sown the seeds of that faith by tending to her hand after she’d punched him. Had watered it by insisting on marrying her, even though she must be the last person he’d ever have considered, had he actually been considering marriage. And it had steadily grown every time he’d greeted her outbursts of temper by walking away and giving her time to calm down. He had never responded to her with anger, or rebuked her for losing control—not even the time she’d thrown all that crockery at him—but with patience and tolerance.
