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CHAPTER4
What had he done?
Percy had married a madwoman. Worse than that. A defiant, headstrong woman. He cursed under his breath as the coach traveled over the uneven road toward Chesterfield. They had been in the coach for at least an hour now, he figured. They would be arriving soon.
Just minutes later, the wheels began to slow, and he felt the familiar turn up the drive of his estate. A sharp intake of breath from across the coach called his attention.
“Is this—oh, my, is this…? How lovely.”
He frowned. His wife wasn’t very eloquent either.His wife?He cringed at the thought. What had ever compelled him to agree to such a scheme? Since the very moment he had arrived at the church that morning he had been flooding with regret. Now, he was overflowing with it.
The coach came to a halt and he heard the door swing open. The coachman let Miss Clarke out first, then came to help him.
“Here you are, Mr. Wellington. Do you require further assistance?” The coachman asked as Percy stepped down.
“Bring her things to the house.”
“Straight away.”
Mere seconds later, Percy heard the crunching sound of the coachman’s footsteps retreating up the drive. The air fell in silence, and he wondered if Miss Clarke had already made her way to the house and let herself through the doors. It would not surprise him in the slightest.
Her voice cut suddenly through the air. “I cannot believe how lovely this home is. I have never seen anything like it. And it is so…isolated.”
Percy closed his eyes and tried to picture it. He hadn’t seen the image in a long time. The tall, intimidating house, with its golden stone and dozens of windows. It was surrounded by trees and thick grass sprinkled with white flowers. Fortunately, Percy’s groundskeeper had not deserted the house, so his land was likely still in pristine condition. Perhaps the groundskeeper just hadn’t known Percy long enough to hate him. He was relieved, but still worried over the state of the interior of his home. With only two maids, the home could have been in a constant state of disarray. He had also worried over the quality of the maids’ work. If they knew he could not see any of it, they could very well have been shirking their duties. Perhaps his condition had just made him suspicious of everything and everyone.
“Shall we go inside?” Miss Clarke asked. “Do you require…assistance?” She sounded nervous.
Something about the question grated on him. Percy didn’t want to admit it, but he was slightly disoriented. He hadn’t been focused as he stepped out of the carriage. He hadn’t taken the time to consider the direction the door had faced, and whether or not he had turned when exiting, or how many steps he had taken to either side. On a normal day, he would have taken note of such things. But today, his new wife was proving to be an unwelcome distraction.
The breath he released sounded like a grumble. “Take my arm and start me in the right direction.” He held out his arm, dropping his head, waiting. Seconds ticked by and Miss Clarke didn’t say a word. She didn’t touch him. Just when he started wondering again if she had walked away silently, she spoke, making him jump.
“That sounded like an order.” Her voice was softer, but there was a boldness beneath it that irked him.
“It was.”
“If I am to be your wife, you will not treat me like a servant.”
He scoffed. “You offered your assistance!”
“Yes, and because I offered, I expected a polite response!”
Percy could picture her standing there on the drive, hands planted on her hips and a stubborn look on her face. But what did her face look like? He was rather curious. He gave an exasperated sigh and rubbed the back of his neck. Harry was in for a beating after all.
Miss Clarke released a breath that buzzed through her lips. “Oh, I’m sorry. I truly am. Forgive me. I am being quite inconsiderate.”
He scowled.
“Grandmama always told me I was a bit selfish.” There was a sort of grief and longing in her voice. Percy recalled his conversation with his cousin. Harry had said that Fanny had lived with her grandmother before she died.
Unexpectedly, Miss Clarke’s hand looped around his lowered arm. His head flinched in her direction. She gave a soft laugh, much closer to his ear than before. “You must wish to be a time traveler.” She laughed again, a quiet trill that contradicted the bold tone of her voice.
“Why is that?” he asked as she began guiding him toward the house.
“So you may have chosen not to marry me this morning.”
He was quiet for a moment. “Well, you have not proven to be what I expected.”
“And what did you expect?”
