Vows to Save Her Reputation

by Christine Merrill

  Or perhaps she was to blame, as she always seemed to be. ‘Familiarity can grow over time,’ she insisted. Once she knew him better, perhaps she could find a way to transform herself into someone that he might desire.

  ‘That is true,’ he said, clearly surprised to find his decision questioned. ‘But no matter how much time passes, there is no reason to believe that we will become quite that familiar.’

  Was it truly so hopeless? She blurted the question she was afraid to have answered. ‘Is there something about me you find offensive or off-putting?’

  ‘No,’ he said, almost too hurriedly to be believed.

  ‘Is there some incapacity on your part?’

  ‘Good God, no.’ This denial came even faster.

  ‘Then what is your reasoning?’ she said, wishing he would simply be honest and tell her she was unattractive.

  ‘It is simply that I have lost one wife and do not mean to lose another,’ he snapped.

  This stopped her. He had said very little about his last wife, hurrying her through the portrait gallery so fast she had got barely a glance at the painting of the woman that had hung beside his. Perhaps her loss had affected him more deeply than he liked to reveal and he needed time to settle the grief he still felt for her before taking another woman to his bed.

  If he missed his first wife so much, then, why had he remarried at all? Then Emma remembered the money that had changed hands before the ink was even dry on the register.

  But that still did not give him the right to cloak his feelings about her in lies. ‘Despite the curse you keep going on about, there is no reason to think that I will not survive childbirth,’ she replied. ‘My mother has often told me I have the grace of a plough horse. I suspect I have the strength of one as well.’

  ‘Do not speak of yourself in that way,’ he snapped, then, as if realising how he must sound, his voice gentled. ‘I do not care to hear what your mother thought of your deportment. I have no problem with it.’ He reached out to take her hand, giving it a gentle squeeze as he spoke the next words. ‘There is nothing wrong with you. But if you are married to me, there is every reason in the world to believe you are at risk. And that is why I have no intention of putting your health in danger by attempting an act that might start a family. It is better that we live as strangers than to court disaster.’

  ‘I see.’ In truth, she still did not. Now that she had finally managed to overcome her dazed infatuation enough to speak to him, it appeared that he meant to base their entire marriage on nonsense.

  It did not matter what he claimed. Considering what her mother had always told her about her matrimonial chances, a lie made far more sense. He knew he had been trapped and now he was punishing her. But what good did it do to wonder about his reasoning if she could not manage to change his mind? How could she bear to live with him if she could not?

  Then she remembered the best piece of advice her mother had given her in the final week of instruction in the womanly arts. Always agree with your husband—then, do as you wish.

  She wished to have a normal marriage, just as her mother had. But that was a battle that could not be fought in a common hallway on their first day together. So, she swallowed her humiliation at his rejection and gave him what she hoped was a complacent smile. ‘If you think that is for the best and you are my husband, then I must obey.’ She turned to her room. ‘I suppose I will acquaint myself with my new chamber, before it is time to dress for dinner,’ she said.

  ‘Dressing is not necessary, if you do not wish to,’ he said, giving her a blank look. ‘No one is here to see.’

  ‘You are here,’ she reminded him, trying to ignore the pang of loss over the fact that, since he did not want to think of her as a woman, he probably did not care what she did.

  But she cared. She had a closet full of expensive and stylish dinner gowns, and she would not let them go to waste. Even if it did not matter to him what she wore, she must not let his disgust of her break her spirit. She was going to look her best. ‘I assume that dinner is at eight,’ she said, taking a deep breath and trying not to lose her nerve. ‘You may wear what you like, but I will dress for dinner, as I usually do. Now, if you will excuse me?’ She stepped into her new room, closed the door on her new husband and called for her maid.

  Chapter Five

  Damn it to hell.

  This day was not going as he had hoped it might. First, there was the embarrassment over the settlement. Then his mother-in-law had behaved over breakfast just as he feared she would, as if the house now belonged to her, via her daughter.

  He had at least thought that the matter of the bedroom had been settled yesterday, but it was clear that his bride had not understood him at all. She still held out hope that things could be normal between them.

  She did not understand how difficult it would be for him, once they started on a path of intimacy, to walk the careful line that avoided completion of the act. It would be even more so with a woman who suited his tastes as she did. Even worse, her sudden surrender to his wishes probably meant she thought to wear him down on the subject of bedding her. It was a most unladylike reversal on her part. He was the one who should take the lead in matters of the bedroom. She was supposed to be the naive pupil, ready to accept his guidance.

  Though she spoke as if she was unaware of her allure, when it came to matters of wardrobe, she was currently behaving just as any other woman of fashion might and choosing a gown that would display far more skin than a simple day dress might. She was going out of her way to be even more lovely than she already was, possibly meaning to tempt him.

  He would not succumb to it. She could do as she liked, but that did not mean he had to respond to it. He would treat her costume as an ordinary part of the day, even if doing so meant he was going to have to dress for dinner.

  His life was quite comfortable the way it was. It had not occurred to him, when marrying, that the details of it might change in any significant way. But with a woman in the house, he would not be able to keep to his usual habits of eating in day clothes by the sitting-room fire. Formality would be returning to his life, whether he liked it or not.

  No matter her motives, he had denied her so much already he could hardly complain about something as small as this. Tonight, dinner would be at eight in the dining room, just as he should be accustomed to.

  He rubbed a hand over his cheek, feeling the stubble forming there, and realised that there was no point in dressing without a shave. He surrendered and rang for his valet.

  As he was shaved, he brooded on another matter that bothered him. There was also the annoying fact that he was quite sure she was not taking him seriously on the matter of the curse. There was something in the clear blue eyes looking back at him that was more than ordinary doubt. It was blatant scepticism.

  He had not told her the whole truth, of course, nor had he told her father when they’d arranged the marriage. To share too many of the details about his family was to risk the Harris family coming to its collective senses and crying off. But she would change her mind about the curse soon enough, when she saw the effect it had on him.

  But what if she didn’t have to? Suppose he never had another incident?

  The thought was so faint that he could barely believe he’d had it. He’d had no problems in months and had survived the wedding with no real problems. Was there a way to change the future by changing the course of his life with this new woman? She was as different from his departed Elizabeth as it was possible to be, tall and bright, to Beth’s petite coolness. Hesitant where Beth had been sure. And of a totally different class than Robert, or his former wife.

  She also insisted, above all things, that she was strong. Physically, perhaps she was. But today in the church, she had been meek and in need of reassurance. Perhaps her need for him had given him the strength he needed to survive his own problems. For all he knew, his entire life
might have changed for the better, the instant he’d met her.

  Or perhaps not. He had thought himself free many times before and had been wrong each time. There was no point in raising his hopes only to have them dashed again. For now, he must go on as he had been meaning to and keep his distance from her. Time would show him if there was any reason to change his mind or his plans.

  * * *

  She arrived at the dinner table at the appointed hour and took the seat that had been laid for her across the table from him. Though he’d meant to ignore her, he had to admit that it had been worth putting on a fresh cravat to see a woman so elegantly arrayed at his own dinner table. Her gown was of a white netting carefully embroidered along the sleeves and hem with verdigris leaves to match the green-velvet ones that had been used to dress her hair. The effect evoked a dryad that had fallen asleep under her tree and then rushed to table without brushing the fallen foliage from her curls.

  But this presented a challenge. The gown she wore was cut low as he feared it would be and revealed a startling amount of bosom. He had been too polite to look when she had been injured and recovering in his house. But now he could not seem to pull his eyes away from the feast of soft curves arrayed before him.

  He forced himself to look her in the eyes and smile, giving her a nod of welcome, but offering no compliments on her appearance.

  The chilly expression he received in return proved that she had not yet forgiven him for his comments by the bedroom. If he truly had been so obtuse in his explanation that she had not understood him, he could see why she was angry with him. Now, it seemed there were multiple things being denied her and they were only on the first day of a lifetime together. He could only hope she would get used to her position in time and forgive him the restrictions.

  Or perhaps he had annoyed her to the point of unsteadiness. As she reached for it, she came close to upsetting her wine glass. She saved it with a grab at the last second and left only a few red drops marring the perfection of the cloth.

  For a moment, the elegant façade crumbled, revealing the unsure girl he had married. She looked as if she was bracing herself for censure. ‘I am sorry,’ she said, half to him and half to the servants.

  What a strange idea. He had spilled more than his share of wine on this table and many others and had never considered it a serious error. It was certainly not the sort of thing that caused one to demur to the footman.

  Robert looked at her, gave a half shrug of understanding and continued to eat.

  ‘As I told you before, I am known for my carelessness,’ she announced, as if some explanation was needed.

  ‘Because of spilled wine,’ he replied, confused.

  ‘And falls into ditches, broken crockery, stumbles over the furniture...’ she gave a wave of her hand that almost upset her glass again ‘...you will notice, given time.’

  ‘Or you will grow into your height and learn to control it better.’

  ‘Grow into my height,’ she repeated.

  ‘How old are you?’ he asked, realising that he had not bothered to find out before marrying her.

  ‘Twenty-one,’ she replied.

  ‘And I suspect you have come to your full stature in the last year or two.’

  ‘I hope so,’ she replied fervently. ‘My modiste despairs each time I come back to her. My measurements are never the same and nothing is long enough.’

  ‘It takes time to learn the boundaries of a changing body,’ he said. ‘Men are aware of this in ways that women are not, I think. In the meantime, you will find this will help.’ He reached across the table and moved her wine glass a few inches to the left.

  She reached for it without effort, then stared at it in amazement. ‘My mother would not have approved a change in table setting,’ she said, staring at the glass. ‘She told me things were ordered for a reason and to put them back exactly where I found them, after use.’

  ‘Your mother is not here,’ he reminded her.

  ‘That is true,’ she said, her expression brightening for the first time since he had met her. She was lovely enough under normal circumstances, but when she made an effort to smile at him, he had to remind himself again of his plans to avoid her bed.

  Then he received a reminder of just why it was he had made the plan in the first place. The butler appeared in the dining room, his posture a strange combination of apology and urgency. ‘I am sorry Sir Robert,’ he said. ‘But there is an emergency. A fire in the village.’

  Robert tossed his napkin aside and rose from the table. ‘Saddle my horse. And send a wagon as well. Gather the able-bodied servants.’

  ‘What do you expect to do?’ his new wife said, surprised that he was leaving.

  ‘At times like this, we must all come to the aid of our neighbours,’ he said. It was especially true when one felt at fault for whatever had happened. If the curse on his marriage had caused some sort of disaster, then it was a further reminder of why he must hold to his original plan.

  * * *

  It was her wedding night and she was alone.

  After his declaration that this was to be a marriage in name only, she should not have been surprised. But she had not thought that he would find an excuse to leave the house as well. His reasoning was noble and she could hardly argue with it. All the same, she had thought she sensed a certain amount of relief in him as he had left the dining room, as though he was eager for an excuse to abandon her.

  She had thought for a moment, during the meal, that he had been looking at her as a man should look at a woman he had married. He had admired her. He approved. And he had been so helpful as to suggest a slight rearrangement of her wine glasses to make life less difficult. This brief kindness had been enough to make her think he would relent on the artificial distance he meant to keep between them.

  Then he had left.

  On her way from the dining room to her bedroom, she passed through the portrait gallery, the room that Sir Robert rushed through in the earlier tour due to the sad stories attached to so many of the subjects. But Emma had come to see the one person who had barely been mentioned in the discussion of the curse thus far.

  She found her in place of honour beside the portrait of Sir Robert, just where she belonged. The painting was of a china doll of a woman, short and blonde with rosy cheeks and slim arms. Delicate feet peeped from beneath the hem of her gown. Her slender neck was wrapped in pearls, fastened with a jet cameo that looked so heavy that it was a wonder she did not bend from the weight of it.

  At the end of the hall, there was a mirror that gave the viewer the illusion that they, too, were part of the gallery. Emma turned and looked into it now, flinching from what she saw there. He had been kind enough about her awkwardness at dinner. But that was not a matter of attraction as she had wished it to be. It was simply courtesy.

  There was a perfectly logical reason he did not want to sleep with her. One had only to look at this reflection to see that. After looking at the sort of woman he preferred, there could be no logical reason for him to marry Emma other than for money.

  He might make up a ridiculous story about family curses, but it was only an attempt to spare her the truth. They did not suit in any way she might have hoped on first catching sight of him. If he wanted anyone, it would be another wife like the one he’d had.

  Emma could not be further from that, if she had asked God to make her the opposite of the woman in the portrait. Too tall, graceless and sturdy, as her mother sometimes called her. She must learn to face the fact that she was simply not lovable.

  Now, it was a relief that her new husband was nowhere in the house, for it would have been very embarrassing if he had caught her crying in a public room over something that no amount of tears could change. It was even better that her mother was not here to see, for she would have mocked Emma for her sentimental feelings and reminded her that it had taken a trick to get her
any kind of marriage at all. It was unrealistic of her to have hoped for happiness as well.

  The knowledge made the tears fall faster as did the realisation that, since she had dressed for dinner, she was stuck without a handkerchief and not even a sleeve to blot her cheeks. She looked around to make sure that there were no servants within sight and went to the nearest window so she could wipe her face upon the back of the curtains. Then, she leaned her face against the windowpanes, letting the night-cooled glass calm her flushed skin.

  When she straightened, her crying had stopped and her mood was as calm as it had been at dinner. She must accept that things were as they were and make the best of them. Her husband did not want her as a woman. But he had been kind to her at dinner and that was more than she was used to.

  The fact that he could not love her did not matter. He might come to rely on her in other ways. Perhaps she could be a helpmeet to him. With his reclusive ways and his belief that every bad thing that happened was a part of his destiny, she could not think of a man who needed more help than he did.

  That settled the matter. She would grit her teeth, smile with those gritted teeth and apply herself to the situation. She would do good, just as the Lord wished for her to do. And she would change the life and mind of her new husband and put an end to the fears that held him imprisoned alone in his house.

  Chapter Six

  Robert had not slept at all that night, working on the bucket line at the fire until well past dawn. When he arrived home, he called for a hot bath to scrub the smoke from his skin and apologised to his valet for the ruination of his rarely worn dinner clothing.

  Apologising. He was beginning to sound like Emma. The thought made him smile. He hoped that she’d had a pleasant night after he left her and not lain awake in a strange bed, waiting for him to come home.

  But he suspected she had for, according to the servants, she slept late.