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The Earl's Inconvenient Wife (Marriage By Scandal Book 1)

Page 11

by Ruth Ann Nordin


  “I only bought a bonnet.”

  “You brought her with you.” Roderick let out a frustrated sigh and shook his head. “I’m tired of having this argument with you. The fact remains that I am the lord of this estate, and what I say goes. You are staying here until you are with child.”

  She gritted her teeth as he headed for the door. She closed her eyes and struggled to control the urge to throw something at his head. The big oaf was going to do everything in his power to make her miserable. And all for what? To get even with her for “trapping” him into marriage?

  This time when he closed the door behind him, he didn’t slam it. Even so, the sound echoed ominously throughout the room. Well, if it was a war he wanted, it was a war he was going to get! She wouldn’t be confined to this horrible place just because he wanted it. She’d show him he couldn’t control her. Somehow, someway, she would get back to London, and she was going to do it if it was the last thing she did.

  ***

  Two weeks passed, and Claire had no more success in convincing the servants to let her slip out to London than she had the first day she came here. Whatever else could be said for her obnoxious husband, he was a man who commanded unwavering loyalty from his staff. At times, it seemed as if they must think him a god by the way they hastened to do whatever he wanted. And since he wanted her here, they vowed to keep her here as well.

  Roderick had taken it upon himself to daily retreat to his library or take a ride on his horse. She didn’t miss him. Indeed, she was delighted he left her alone, especially at night. But she was all-too-aware of the absence of a friend, namely her sister. She wrote letter upon letter to Lilly, and Marion arranged for them to be sent out on her behalf. But it did little to ease the aching loneliness that had become her companion.

  She did everything she could to fill her days. When she wasn’t pleading with one of the servants to take her back to London, she was often in the drawing room using her sketchpad to draw flowers that looked more like warped circles and lopsided ovals than actual flowers. She loved flowers, especially this time of year when they graced the landscape in abundance. She often took her sketchpad with her on her walks along the property, especially to the gazebo, and would sit for an hour trying to improve her sketches of them. Unfortunately, nothing she did worked.

  Another week passed, and much to her disappointment, her monthly flow came. She spent a day in her bedchamber, thankful for the tea Marion made to soothe her cramps but also mourning the fact that she wouldn’t get Roderick’s approval to return to London. She’d have to probably drink more sherry to work up the nerve to have Roderick back in her room. He was still leaving her alone, something she was thankful for, but she knew the reprieve wouldn’t last forever. As soon as he found out there was no heir on the way, he’d insist they try again. She could only hope the times when she needed to do her duty were no more than once a month.

  Three days after her flow started, she gathered her courage to tell Roderick the bad news. It was before breakfast, before he would run off to ride his horse or read another one of his dull books. She waited for him at the bottom of the stairs, fingering the edge of her yellow dress, her stomach twisting up into knots.

  The sound of her husband talking to his valet directed her attention to the top of the stairs. She watched as he instructed the valet on which clothes he’d need after his breakfast. She rolled her eyes. She should have known that on a sunny day such as this he’d be taking a ride on his horse. Sometimes it was irritating to see how much he loved the horse but didn’t give her so much as a single thought. She immediately criticized herself for thinking such a thing. What did she care what Roderick thought of her? Just because he was her husband, it didn’t mean he was worth her time.

  The valet nodded and went to do Roderick’s bidding. She sighed and waited for Roderick to stop inspecting himself in the hallway mirror. Finally, he headed down the steps in her direction.

  Taking a deep breath, she stood directly in front of him, patiently waiting as he descended each step. It was now or never. She clasped her hands in front of her and watched him. After he went down three steps, it occurred to her that he was going slower and slower with each step. She furrowed her eyebrows.

  “Lord Roderick, are you in pain?”

  He halted his steps, his gaze meeting hers. “No. Why would you think that?”

  “You aren’t able to keep up a healthy pace. I simply worried for your health. I could run to London and retrieve a doctor for you, if you so desire.”

  With a smirk, he twirled around and bounded down the rest of the steps. “There’s no need to trouble yourself on my behalf. I’ve never been better.”

  “Oh.”

  “You sound disappointed.”

  “No, my lord. I assure you I’m quite relieved.”

  He shook his head but smiled. “You flatter me by your concern. Are you merely inquiring about my health this morning or is there some other, more sinister, deed at work?”

  “Something more sinister I’m afraid.” She motioned to the drawing room. “It’s something better said in private.”

  His gaze went from her to the drawing room. With a nod, he headed for the drawing room, not bothering to look behind to see if she followed. Not surprised, she went after him and shut the door to the room so they could have some privacy.

  She sat on the settee, and she wasn’t surprised when he chose to sit in the chair instead of sitting next to her.

  “What did you want to discuss?” Roderick asked her as he leaned back in his chair and crossed his legs.

  Bracing herself, she said, “I regret to inform you that I am not with child.”

  He stared at her, not blinking. “And?”

  “And?”

  “I already told you that you wouldn’t be because we didn’t consummate the marriage. So what else is there?”

  “Nothing. There is nothing else.”

  She studied his impassive face. He didn’t show the slightest bit of surprise over this news. Could it be true that he’d been telling her the truth, that they hadn’t shared her bed on their wedding night? She struggled to recall that night, and the only thing that came to her was that he’d been in her room, they’d kissed, and then he was taking her to bed. But had he actually been in the bed with her? She couldn’t remember anything else, and for the first time, she considered the reason why she couldn’t remember more was because more didn’t happen.

  A commotion on the other side of the drawing room door interrupted her thoughts. She and Roderick stood, and she hurried after him as he opened the door. In the entryway, the butler stood, listening to an irritated young man who couldn’t have been older than seventeen.

  “My being here is a mistake,” the young man said.

  Roderick strode forward and intercepted them. “There’s no mistake about it. You are to be our new stableboy, Mister Robinson.”

  Mister Robinson blanched. “A stableboy? My guardian, who also happens to be my cousin, is an earl.”

  “Fortunately, I won’t let a little thing like you being Lord Clement’s ward get in the way of putting you to work.” He glanced at the butler. “Kindly escort Mister Robinson to his room.” He then turned his gaze to Lord Clement’s ward. “You’ll find your clothes in there.”

  “But I brought my own clothes,” Mister Robinson argued.

  “There’s no need. I have everything you need right here,” Roderick replied in the controlling manner Claire knew so well. “This isn’t a vacation. The sooner you learn responsibility, the better.” He gestured to the butler to show Mister Robinson to his room.

  The butler hastened to obey, and though Mister Robinson looked like he wanted to protest, in the end, he followed the butler down the hall, his shoulders slumped in defeat. Claire couldn’t help but feel sorry for him. In a way, she understood what he had to be thinking. Trapped here, in this house, with someone like Roderick to remind him of everything he’d ever done wrong… She sighed.

  Roderi
ck turned to her. “What?”

  “Nothing,” she quickly replied.

  “You think I was harsh on him just now?” he pressed.

  Though she didn’t wish to get into another argument with him, she figured she might as well answer his question since he asked it. “Very well. Yes. I think you were too harsh. He is an earl’s cousin. It seems inappropriate to give him a stableboy’s job.”

  He hesitated for a moment before saying, “If you understood the situation, you wouldn’t be in such a hurry to condemn me.”

  “Then perhaps you’d like to enlighten me?”

  “This is a matter between me and Lord Clement, and it’s something he wishes to keep confidential.”

  She considered his words and decided he was right. If Lilly had told her something in confidence, then she’d rather die than tell anyone her sister’s secret. She couldn’t fault him for doing the same. She indicated her acceptance with a nod and decided she’d eat breakfast while he got things settled with Lord Clement’s ward.

  Chapter Twelve

  After breakfast, Nate wrote Perry a quick letter to let him know his ward arrived at Weston and had the letter sent to him. He went to his bedchamber where his valet helped him into his riding outfit. The entire time he was getting ready to go to the stable, he wondered if Mister Robinson was giving the stable master any grief. He fully expected him to after all the years Perry had been soft on him. He couldn’t blame Perry. Perry had a good heart, but what Mister Robinson needed was the firm hand of discipline.

  As he headed out of the house, he caught sight of Claire writing at her desk in the drawing room. He paused for a moment, a slight twinge of guilt nagging him. The weeks at Weston had been long and tense. He didn’t delight in keeping her here, despite what she must think. But how was he going to get an heir unless they were under the same roof? If there was another way to do the job, he’d do it. But there was only one way she was going to conceive the heir, and he needed to figure out how in the world he was going to make it happen because as things stood right now, he was going to have to pass on his title to his cousin.

  “Are you ready to go riding, my lord?” the butler asked him.

  Turning to him, he nodded. “Yes, I’m ready.” With another glance at his wife, he saw that she had looked in his direction. Startled, he quickly averted his gaze and strode out the door, not sure why his heartbeat picked up. Clearing his throat, he thanked his footman, who opened the front door for him, and strode out of the house.

  He headed for the stable, trying to assure himself he wasn’t heartless. Yes, he knew he had avoided Claire as much as he could, but that didn’t mean he was insensitive toward her needs. He had, after all, told her the truth: that they hadn’t consummated their marriage. Was it his fault if she refused to believe him?

  He sighed. If she hadn’t gone shopping with her sister, he’d feel safe enough keeping her in London. Why couldn’t she exercise more restraint? If she honestly believed she’d consummated the marriage with him, did she assume that potentially giving him an heir meant she could be reckless with his money?

  Perhaps if he limited how much she spent at the shops, then they might return to London and she could be happy again? Not that she was happy with him anyway. To her credit, she wasn’t putting on a pretense with him. She was letting him know exactly what she did and didn’t like. If nothing else, he certainly appreciated that about her.

  The familiar guilty sensation returned. Could it be possible she had been telling him the truth—that she had nothing to do with the scandal that led to their marriage? If she had been a part of it, surely, she’d be trying to soften him up in order to get him to allow her greater freedom with his money.

  A horse neighed, bringing his attention to the stable. He blinked, surprised he’d already crossed the distance across the lawn. Amazing how a little thing like being preoccupied with guilt should make him forget his surroundings. Taking a deep breath of the warm air cooled occasionally by the breeze, he put Claire far from his mind and focused on why he came out here today.

  As he suspected, Mister Robinson was arguing with the stable master. Since the youth’s back was turned to him, Nate crept forward, careful that his steps were quiet lest he give himself away. The stable master glanced in his direction once but didn’t alert Mister Robinson that he was there.

  “I will not degrade myself by cleaning this…this…” Mister Robinson motioned to a stall’s floor. After a moment of silence where he waved his hand and shook his head, he finally grunted. “You know the word I’m thinking of here.”

  The stable master’s eyebrows rose. “Manure?”

  “Yes. That’s it. I will not clean up that filth.”

  “You are.”

  “I am not!” He straightened his back and lifted his chin. “I am the cousin of an earl. I have noble blood in my veins. I have people waiting on me. Someday, I will marry a lady of high status, higher than mine, if I dare say so myself, and given where I come from and where I’m headed, I will not touch a shovel that touches that…filth.”

  Roderick stopped right behind Mister Robinson and clasped his hands behind his back. “You think you’re too good to do what Lord Roderick tells you, don’t you?”

  “You bet I do,” Mister Robinson vehemently agreed as he spun around, only to grow pale as soon as he realized who he spoke to.

  “You are testing my patience, Mister Robinson,” Roderick said, not in the least bit disturbed by the youth’s insolence. “I might be a friend of your cousin’s, but I will not let that dissuade me from doing what’s best for you.”

  “Best for me?”

  “Yes, best for you. You will be an adult soon, and that means you will have responsibilities. I am going to teach you how to be responsible.”

  “And you’re going to start by having me shovel out horse droppings?”

  “Yes, and if you can handle the small tasks I give you, you can move on to the bigger ones.”

  Mister Robinson grimaced.

  “If you don’t do the work you’re assigned in this stable, I will give you a job less favorable.”

  “I can’t imagine anything worse than clearing animal waste.”

  Nate’s lips curled up into a smile. “I can.” Before the insolent boy could say anything else, Nate gestured to the stall. “Now go in there and clean it up.”

  Though Mister Robinson grumbled, he retrieved the shovel from the stable master and went to the stall, tiptoeing his way through pieces of horse manure.

  Satisfied, Nate turned to the stable master and waited as he got his horse ready. He watched Mister Robinson who was gingerly digging the shovel under the manure to pick it up. With a grimace on his face, he lifted the shovel and tossed the manure to the aisle of the stable. He shuddered and then turned back to the next piece of manure.

  With a chuckle, Nate accepted the reins to his horse when the stable master brought the stallion to him. After he got into the saddle, he left the stable and urged the horse toward the path that would take him past the pond. A ride was just the thing he needed to refresh his mind. Content, he turned his attention to the land around him and enjoyed the morning.

  When he returned to the manor, he washed up and changed into new clothes, wondering if he should read a book or attempt to have a conversation with his wife. It was a question he often wondered, and as before, he opted to read a book. He had no idea what he could say to her that she’d find of interest except if he told her she could go to London. Since he had no intention of doing that, he decided it was best to say nothing.

  He entered his library and sat at his desk. Closing his eyes, he leaned back in the chair and let his mind wander. The truth was, Claire wasn’t the only one who missed London. Parliament was in session, and he loved going to White’s to discuss what was happening there, especially with Perry.

  The door opened. He sighed and turned his head in the butler’s direction, afraid to ask if Claire had, once again, tried to talk him into sneaking her out o
f the house so she could go to London. Though his servants consistently refused to take her to London, it didn’t seem to stop her from asking.

  The butler came into the room and handed him a letter. “This came for you, my lord.”

  Eyebrows furrowed, Nate took it and straightened in his seat. He read it, at first surprised and then worried. Glancing up at the butler who waited for his instructions, he said, “Tell the steward I want to see the ledger.”

  “Yes, my lord.” He bowed and left the library.

  Nate read through the missive again. He hadn’t had any dealings with Lord Hedwrett. If Lord Hedwrett’s letter was to be believed his steward had borrowed money and was trying to pay him back in installments, but Lord Hedwrett wanted all of it back immediately.

  He glanced at his books and shook his head. So much for reading. He’d be spending his day working through the budget to find out if his steward was being honest in his bookkeeping. He grimaced. Just what he wanted to do. The steward entered the room with the ledger. Bracing himself for what was most likely to be an unpleasant discussion, Nate motioned for him to sit and got ready to talk to him.

  ***

  That evening before dinner, Claire studied Marion’s reflection in the mirror as she was buttoning the back of her gown. “Are you sure there’s nothing I can say or do to convince you to take me to London?”

  Marion offered her a patient smile. “My lady, you know the answer to that.”

  “Do you approve of Lord Roderick so much that you’ll let me wilt away here?”

  “You needn’t exaggerate. I’ve heard stories of gentlemen who are far worse than your husband. Believe me, my lady, he’s a good one.”

  Claire rolled her eyes. This was the same reply she got from all the servants. But still, Marion had been with her for years. Marion ought to understand why she wanted to return to London and see her family. Disappointed, Claire didn’t say anything else. She really should stop pleading with the servants to help her get to London. It wasn’t doing any good.

 

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