Dear Ophelia,
I trust you’ve slept well. I’d like to leave by noon.
Wescott
So he would do neither thing, but be so bland and polite that it unsettled her.
“Could you have a breakfast tray brought up?” she asked Rochelle. “I’d rather not go down.”
“Indeed, my lady. I’ll send a footman at once.”
Her husband wished to leave by noon, did he? Perhaps she’d dawdle over breakfast until 11:59. Perhaps she’d ask the maid for an intricate chignon that would take the better part of an hour to execute, and then be indecisive over which gown to wear.
But the memory of the previous night’s punishment came to her when she shifted her still-sore hindquarters, and she sighed and rose to get ready. After picking at her breakfast tray with little appetite, she donned a pale blue gown with a matching bonnet. Rochelle kept her to schedule, her agile hands pinning hair and fetching gloves with none of Jacqueline’s sullenness.
So Ophelia found herself handed up into the carriage a full hour before noon. Her husband greeted her in all his handsome, despicable glory, having already taken up a place on the forward facing seat. There was nothing to do but sit beside him, like a true, happily married couple headed to their country honeymoon.
“Good morning,” he said, as she settled beside him, not quite touching him.
“Good morning, my lord.”
“Still ‘my lording’ me?”
She had the distinct impression he might have rolled his eyes.
“Pardon me,” she said. “I was attempting to be polite.”
He thumped the carriage’s roof, signaling the groomsmen they were ready to set off. It would take hours to reach the Abbey, as it was situated beyond the Arlington country estate in Oxfordshire, hours to be alone together in strained companionship. At least Lord Wescott’s carriage was comfortable. This was not the one they’d ridden home in yesterday, after the wedding. The seats were plusher, and the light-colored interior gave an expansive feel to the enclosed space. The windows were large enough to provide distraction.
“Do you like it?” he said, waving an arm at the compartment.
“It’s a fine carriage. Very modern and new.”
“Just delivered this morning, to replace the one I lost in the fire. I’m quite pleased with it.”
She squeezed her gloved hands together in her lap and withheld a sigh.
“It barely jostles,” he said in the silence. “It’s got the newest suspension system, and larger wheels for rutted country roads.”
“How lovely.”
“Do you enjoy the country, Ophelia?”
Would he persist in this stilted chatter the entire trip?
“I haven’t spent much time in the country,” she said, turning to the window. “When I was home from school, we stayed in town. My mother preferred it.” She inched another fraction away from him. He was so large, and felt even larger in the closed compartment.
In answer, he crossed one of his long legs over the other and heaved a sigh, not having the manners to withhold it as she had.
“What else shall we converse about?” he asked. “We’ve a long way to travel. Perhaps we can get to know one another better.”
“Like a courting couple?” She twisted the wedding ring on her finger. “A bit late for that.”
He sighed again, even more loudly. “Will you hold it against me forever?”
“Hold what against you?” The despoilment at the inn? The marriage? The spanking last night? “Of what do you speak? You’ve wronged me in so many ways.”
He gave a tight, pointed laugh. “I saved your life, if you’ll be so kind to remember it.”
“Someone else would have, if you hadn’t.” She liked to believe that, anyway.
“And I’m sure you would have shown an equal lack of gratitude to whoever that poor fool was,” he said.
“I would show more gratitude to you for saving me if you hadn’t ruined me at the same time.”
“For God’s sake!” His loud exclamation startled her, as did his expression as he uncrossed his legs and fixed her with a glare. “If you had said one word to stop me, one word of caution or hesitation, none of this would have happened. If you’d uttered one word of who you were, one word imploring me to leave you alone—”
“I have told you, I did not realize what you intended.” She matched his strident voice, so much that it hurt her throat. “I knew nothing that night of loveplay and seduction, and you—” She drew a sharp breath. “From your talents, it’s clear you knew too much.”
“You disparage my ‘talents,’ wife? You took such pleasure in them.”
“As have many women, from what I understand. I suppose it’s difficult to move from London and leave all your bachelor conquests behind.”
“If you mean Lady June, the woman I intended to marry, she’s already moved on to someone else. She’s to wed Lord Braxton within the month.”
“I mean those other women, who are not ladies. The type of woman you thought I was.” His eyes darkened as she spoke. She should have stopped, but her high emotions carried her past reason. “I overheard my brother talking to my father after we were engaged, about your many assignations and adventures in brothels.”