Charity laughed out loud. “Good job, Grace! You have him right over a barrel, Faith,” the irrepressible twin chortled, stretching out on her stomach across the bed.
“Charity!” Amity admonished with a reproving frown.
Grace managed to look slightly chagrined. “It just gives you time to know each other better before things get…" She paused as she looked at her two younger siblings. “Complicated,” she finished inadequately.
“What does consummate mean?” Mercy piped up from the doorway.
“Hush, Mercy,” said Grace and Faith together.
“Yes. Hush, Mercy. Go find your duke and bother him,” added Charity, then stuck out her tongue at Amity, who glowered at her again.
Mercy looked obstinate for a moment, then brightened. “I think I’ll go let Lord Asheburton know Charity is sweet on him.”
Charity sat up and glared. “You wouldn’t dare,” she said warningly.
“Wouldn’t I?” Mercy’s voice was taunting. She took a step back, then turned and fled as Charity leapt off the bed and lunged for the door.
Faith ignored the altercation between her siblings, a frown furrowing her forehead as a sudden thought struck her. “Gareth couldn’t have been happy with this suggestion of yours.”
Grace felt a slight twinge of guilt, but answered truthfully. “He agreed with me, and told me to come tell you.”
Faith looked steadily at her sister before standing up with a sigh. “Well, I must say that it is an immense relief to know he intends to begin our marriage on equal footing.” She extended a hand down to help Amity up from the floor. “Shall we go down? If we hurry, we’ll only be a few minutes late.”
They all gathered quietly under the arbor in the garden, a small group of people to witness the wedding of one of the richest and most powerful men in the land to one of its most beautiful women. As Faith took her place beside Gareth, she gave him a serene smile intended as a thank-you for his attempt to relieve her tension on their wedding day. It only served to fuel the fury that had been building inside him since his earlier conversation with Grace. To Gareth, the smile looked impossibly smug, further evidence that she’d known exactly how and when to play her trump card.
Somehow he managed to speak his vows, taking her as his wife before God, half-expecting lightning to strike as he promised to love and cherish her, when all he really wanted right now was to turn Faith over his knee and soundly spank her treacherous little backside.
He smiled tightly throughout the party after the ceremony, but refused to tolerate it for long. As soon as he was able, he caught his new bride’s hand and leaned down to whisper in her ear.
“It’s time to go.”
Faith felt a small pang of fear in her stomach at the thought of leaving her family to begin a life of her own, especially under such awkward circumstances, but she nodded and excused herself to go change out of her wedding gown. She’d thought she had gained some measure of control with Gareth’s promise, but now she wasn’t so sure. She would soon be in unfamiliar territory, and that greatly affected her level of comfort.
Gareth watched her walk away in silence, then strolled over to Trevor, who was deep in conversation with Sebastian and Lachlan. After a brief pause, he interrupted smoothly. “Hunt, have you a moment?”
“Of course.” Trevor excused himself and the two walked a few steps away. “What’s on your mind?”
“Faith and I will be spending some time at Rothmere rather than remaining in town for the rest of the Season. Would you mind having Grace send Faith’s belongings there?”
Trevor looked surprised. “I thought the estate was under renovation.”
“It is,” said Gareth, his tone uninformative.
Trevor gave his friend a level look. “Grace went upstairs to help her sister change. Won’t Faith let her know where she’ll be?”
Gareth’s face remained impassive. “Faith does not yet know,” he answered, and walked abruptly away.
Trevor watched him go, grinning in delight. After his own tumultuous courtship of Grace, he was more than happy to see that he wasn’t the only man who had trouble controlling his wife.
Faith sat primly erect in one corner of the well-sprung coach, her hands folded demurely in her lap, her reticule placed neatly at her feet. She hadn’t been quite sure where she should sit after the footman handed her up into the vehicle; she’d stood for a moment in the doorway, looking from left to right before finally settling on the seat to her right. Once there, however, she realized she didn’t know if Gareth would prefer sitting beside her, or if he would choose to occupy the seat across from her. She bit her lip in indecision. Then inspiration struck and moved her to the corner furthest from the door. She’d leave room beside her and let him decide.
She’d just gotten settled when she heard his booted feet coming down the town house steps and across the walk. The coach dipped and he filled the open doorway. Faith held her breath as he settled into the seat across from her and stretched his long legs diagonally across the open space in the middle.
Well, she allowed, that mystery was solved.
The footman closed the door. A moment later the coach began moving. Gareth stared out the window, seemingly lost in thought. Faith was left in silence to contemplate her new role in life.
Awkwardness reigned as she stole glances at her husband’s profile, drinking in his appearance while he wasn’t watching. She felt as though she should say something to ease the tension, but she couldn’t think of a single topic, so she finally reverted to the weather. “It really is quite a pretty day, is it not, my lord?”
“Quite,” Gareth replied crisply and lapsed back into silence.
Taken aback by her husband’s curt manner, Faith leaned forward to look out the window to see what had caught his interest. To her surprise, the number of buildings they were passing was thinning, and she noticed the road becoming a great deal bumpier. The carriage seemed to be leaving London. Her eyebrows drew together in confusion, and she looked back to find him watching her with an assessing gaze.
“Where are we going?” she asked.
“To Rothmere.”
“What’s Rothmere?” Faith said after a moment of silence indicated Gareth did not intend to elaborate.
The corners of her husband’s mouth twitched into the semblance of a smile. “Your home,” he replied flatly. The fleeting grin disappeared at the sobering thought of how very little they actually knew about each other. She didn’t even know the name of his estate.
“But I thought we would be staying in Town for the Season,” protested Faith.
“You were wrong.”
“But my family—”
“Should all know by now.”
Faith sat back without another word and looked across the coach at her new husband’s averted face. A muscle clenched in his jaw, and she suddenly realized that Gareth was blisteringly angry. Gone was the teasing suitor she’d met at her sister’s wedding, the dashing gentleman who’d waltzed her around a balcony one night and kissed her into near insensibility in Amanda’s gazebo the next. This man, she did not know.
He pulled his gaze from the rolling scenery and caught her watching him. Hastily she looked down, growing more and more uncomfortable with the charged silence that stretched between them. She tried to think of what she could have done to cause this anger. She’d so hoped to spend the next few days getting to know him.
And then it hit her: Grace’s request.
Her head snapped up and her gray eyes narrowed on Gareth’s rigid profile. Her sister had said he’d agreed to the request, but what if he’d thought she would call off the wedding if he didn’t agree? He was apparently too honorable to do so, so Gareth might have felt trapped into the whole affair.
She peered at him more closely. It almost looked as if he were pouting. “My lord,” she said firmly.
He spared her a glance.
She cleared her throat. “I begin to think you are angry about something.”
&
nbsp; He turned back to the window. “Indeed?”
“But of course, my lord,” Faith replied in a reasonable tone. “You’ve hardly uttered a word since we started, you’ve changed our destination without so much as doing the courtesy of letting me know, and when you do deign to speak, it is in short, monosyllabic responses that are both rude and uninformative.” She stopped, took a breath, and concluded. “Therefore, I came to the logical assumption that something has vexed you.”
Gareth raised both eyebrows. “Your powers of deduction are truly astonishing, my lady,” he drawled. “Were you, by chance, able to take another leap of logic and ascertain what might have made me so angry?”
The heavy sarcasm in his tone was not lost on Faith. “I have an idea, of course,” she allowed, annoyed to find herself bristling at his attitude.
“Then, please, my lady. Enlighten me.”
Faith raised her chin. “I believe you’ve begun to regret the agreement you struck with Grace.”
“Ah, yes.” His voice softened and yet became somehow menacing. “The agreement.”
Something in his tone made Faith wary. “You did send Grace upstairs to tell me of your willingness to participate, did you not?”
“Yes, I did,” replied Gareth. “But I must add, I was so taken aback by her suggestion that I neglected to clarify a few issues.”
Faith was instantly alert. “Issues?”
“Yes, princess, issues.” He looked directly at her for the first time since they’d begun their journey, and Faith realized that he’d been neither pouting nor bored. He was coldly, frighteningly furious.
Unconsciously she shrank back against the velvet-covered seat, almost flinching when he leaned forward and began reeling off the list of items he wished to have clarified. “First, my lady, exactly how long is ‘a little while’? That’s very ambiguous, you see. So very open to free interpretation.”
Faith realized she was almost cowering before him. Resolutely, she sat up straighter and squared her shoulders.
“Second,” he continued. “How well do you feel you need to know me before you will allow our relationship to progress? Seeing as we are already married.”
Faith tightened her lips into a thin line as she felt annoyance begin to build.
Gareth leaned back casually, crossing his arms over his chest. “Do you need a detailed family history, maybe? Perhaps a list of my likes and dislikes, such as my favorite color or which season of the year I most prefer?” His eyelids dropped lazily over his pupils as his gaze drifted from her face down her body. His lips curved in an appreciative leer. “Of course, there are some things that we already know rather well about each other, aren’t there?”
Faith felt her breath catch at the look of hunger in his deep brown eyes. Her breasts tingled where his eyes had lingered, almost as though he had actually touched her. “Why are you d-doing this?” Her voice caught, stumbled on the words.
The sensuous look vanished instantly. “Because you ambushed me on our wedding day,” he bit out. “You waited until I couldn’t back out, then trapped me in a passionless marriage.”
“But I didn’t!” began Faith before stopping. If she told Gareth while he was in this mood that Grace had been acting alone when she spoke with him, there was no way he would ever believe her. Worse, he’d likely resent her and lose respect for her if she blamed it all on her sister. She closed her mouth and looked steadily across the coach at the hooded gaze of her husband.
He looked away. “You could have trusted me, Faith. I’d have listened, had you simply told me of your misgivings.”
Unseen by Gareth, she bit her lip and looked down, guilty. Although her sister had acted without her prior knowledge, it had been Faith’s own irrational fears that precipitated the unusual request. It was sobering to think that Gareth would likely have given her the time she needed, had she but asked. She thought back over the whole time she had known him and realized with a sudden pang that he had never, by word or action, treated her unkindly, while her own attitude toward him had been anything but kind.
The carriage slowed. Faith leaned forward and looked out the window again, wondering if they had already arrived at Rothmere. To her disappointment, she saw they were pulling into the drive of a small, well-kept inn.
Gareth stirred and glanced at his wife, who was busy looking out the window and pulling on her gloves. The carriage stopped and the door opened.
“My lord?” The marquess looked at the footman standing patiently beside the steps he’d just lowered. “The outrider you sent ahead has only managed to secure a single room. It seems the inn is full, my lord.”
Faith’s head snapped up. “This is where we will spend the night?”
“Of course,” replied Gareth. “The hour grows late. Why else would we be stopping?”
The full import of the footman’s words hit her, and Faith’s heart leapt into her throat. She would be sharing a room with Gareth. “I thought, perhaps, for dinner?” she offered weakly.
Gareth’s eyes narrowed on her pale face and frightened eyes. He instantly guessed her thoughts and smiled. “You needn’t worry, princess. I’ll be keeping my promise.”
Without waiting for her to respond, he stepped out of the coach, leaving a bemused Faith behind to help herself down and follow in his wake.
Sixteen
Faith stared at the plate of food placed before her. The roast was overcooked, the carrots boiled nearly colorless, and the bread bordered on stale. It hardly mattered. Her appetite had fled the moment the servants departed, leaving her alone in the room with two spindly chairs, a small table, her husband, and a bed.
The bed dominated her thoughts. It was, as beds went, nothing special. Much smaller than her own bed at home in Pelthamshire, it was not even close to the size of the luxurious one in which she slept when she visited Grace. Even so, small though it was, it was the most intimidating piece of furniture she’d ever seen.
“Have you finished eating, my lady?”
Startled, Faith tore her eyes from the bed and glanced at the serving girl who stood at her elbow. “Why, yes,” she said quickly. “I’m afraid I wasn’t very hungry,” she added as the buxom girl picked up the still-full plate and then bent forward and reached across the table to retrieve Gareth’s, providing him with an unobstructed view of her ample chest. When his eyes lingered for a moment on the proffered sight, Faith felt a spurt of annoyance.
She sat primly silent for a moment after the serving girl left, then stood. Resolutely, she walked to the bed. There were two rather flat pillows at the head, and it was covered by a single blanket and sheet. She chewed on her lip a moment before remembering the appreciative glance Gareth had given the endowments of the tavern maid. With a great deal of satisfaction, she snatched both pillows and the blanket from the bed, carried them to one corner of the room, and dropped them on the floor under the window.
Gareth watched from his place at the table. She laid the blanket down and folded it once lengthwise, then placed the pillows at one end. She took a step back, surveyed her work, and gave a small nod as if satisfied.
Gareth wasn’t sure what he expected to see when she turned to look at him, but it certainly wasn’t the small, polite smile she gave. He almost smiled in return before he caught himself and managed to retain his carefully aloof expression.
Her smile faded and she fidgeted. “My lord?”
Gareth raised a single eyebrow.
“Might I have a moment of privacy?”
A small blush stole across his wife’s face as she stood, patient, the moonlight streaming in through the window behind her and turning her hair into a gilded halo. Though her face held the same remote, serene expression as usual, the faint pink color that tinted her cheeks made her seem a bit less composed. Approachable, even. Adorable. Completely kissable.
His thoughts returned to the promise he’d made her sister. Suddenly, he felt peevish and disagreeable.
He scowled. “No,” he replied decidedly.
“I said no, princess. You may not have a moment of precious privacy. I might not be able to make you my wife in every sense of the word, but I will not, in order to protect your maidenly sensibilities, be put out of my chamber when I’m ready to go to bed.”
He stood and removed his jacket, tossed it over his chair, and pulled his shirt from the waistband of his trousers. Faith stood stock-still and stared as he began unfastening the studs that held his shirtfront together. A wider and wider expanse of chest began to appear, allowing her a glimpse of the crisply curling dark hair that covered his bronzed skin. She gasped and came to her senses when he began shrugging out of the garment, but not before she saw his broad shoulders rippling with lean muscle.
She took a quick step back and turned away, stumbling across the blanket she’d just laid down. She caught the edge of the windowsill to keep herself from falling, then closed her eyes and rested her hot forehead on the cool pane of glass in sublime embarrassment.
She stayed that way even after the shuffling stopped behind her, didn’t even turn around when her husband spoke. “Will you be sleeping in the bed or on the floor, my lady?”
“The floor,” she managed to choke out. She heard him pull back the thin sheet and settle onto the creaking bed.
When the noises stopped, she looked cautiously around. Gareth was lying on his back under the inadequate covering of the sheet, his hands locked together behind his head, staring fixedly at the ceiling. Faith’s eyes ran down the length of his covered body. With a start of shock, she realized he wasn’t wearing anything beneath.
Flames leapt once more to her face. She looked longingly across the room at the small valise she had packed, realizing she wouldn’t have a chance to change into her comfortable sleeping attire unless she did it in front of Gareth. With a sigh of resignation, she bent and straightened the blanket she’d knocked askew when she’d stumbled. That done, she removed her slippers, adjusted one of the pillows with her toe, and stretched out with her face to the wall. She heard the bed creak as Gareth leaned over and blew out the lamp. Silence descended with the darkness upon the small room.
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