Marianne frowned and sat up against her pillows. “But it’s early.”
Anna made an impatient noise. “Yes, madam, but your husband insisted you not sleep all day and that I was to wake you.”
She put her hands to her head and blinked blearily. “When my husband decides to keep to his word about not being overbearing, I shall consider listening to whatever else he says. Until then, I am resisting his orders.”
That cracked a smile on Anna’s face and the girl folded a dress over her arm, her fair hair catching a bit of sunlight through the windows. “He also said it was time for breakfast, madam.”
Marianne made a face and twirled a lock of her hair around her finger. “Breakfast at strict times, waking at specific hours… It all seems rather structured to me. What is the point of being the mistress of a house if I have no flexibility or authority, hmm?”
“Surely a bit of food would not do you harm, madam,” Anna said with a tilt of her head, her tone noticeably warmer than her first words, though still not quite friendly.
That was a thought for consideration. If she was to be up this early anyway, for there would be no returning to sleep after this, she might as well eat something.
“Perhaps you are right,” she mused. “Yes, I will take a tray up here, if you would be so kind.”
Now Anna smirked a little, which caused some uneasiness somewhere in Marianne’s stomach. Her maid rarely smirked unless mischief was happening.
“What?” she asked slowly.
“Mr. Gerrard has forbidden trays, madam,” Anna said as she came closer to the bed, smoothing the dress on her arm more.
Marianne’s brows snapped down. “He what?”
Anna’s eyes widened. “He expressly said there will be no trays in rooms for breakfast unless you are ill.”
“Then tell him I am ill,” she ordered coolly. Her husband, with all of his claims of not ordering her about, was doing a great deal of ordering about. He was not going to control her life, not like this.
Now Anna’s mouth drew into a tight line. “I would, madam, but he said you would claim to be ill, and he knows you are well, so you must come to the breakfast room and eat.”
Marianne groaned and leaned her head back, then reached for another pillow and covered her face with it, screaming into its downy depths.
She could try to refuse him, but knowing Kit, he would come up to her rooms and carry her over his shoulder down to the breakfast room, or force-feed her.
She tossed the pillow aside and yawned. “Why does he want to see me at all?” she grumbled, eyes still closed. “Why does he even care?”
“He said proper couples take meals together.”
Marianne raised her head and gave Anna a doubtful look. “Show me one couple in London that was not married for love that breakfasts together.”
Anna bit back a laugh, then frowned. “You were not married for love? I thought you eloped.”
Marianne snorted and flung aside her bedcovers. “I meant to elope, but not with him. The whole elopement was a plot by Mr. Marksby to get my fortune and make me a sort of mistress bound to him legally.”
Anna looked horrified by the thought. “Oh, madam…”
Marianne waved off her concern as she rose from the bed and stretched. “It is enough, I was spared that, and had to marry Kit instead.”
“Mr. Gerrard married you to protect your reputation?”
The warmth in Anna’s voice made Marianne stop, and she narrowed her eyes at the maid. “Do not paint him as a hero, Anna. He is intolerable, insufferable, and quite possibly the worst man in the world with whom I could be joined, excluding Mr. Marksby.”
“He is a dreadfully handsome man…” Anna prodded, a hint of a sigh in her voice.
Marianne grunted and moved past her maid to fetch her yellow wrap instead. “Tolerably attractive at best. You need to see more men, Anna. Your opinions will drastically change on Kit’s features.”
Anna seemed to realize her impertinence and held out the gown on her arm. “Will you not change, madam?”
Marianne looked at the dress, a pale pink that was her favorite, then smiled up at Anna. “No, Anna, I will not. My husband asked for my presence at breakfast, and interrupted my sleep to get it. He never said anything about being dressed for the occasion.”
Anna gaped, but Marianne grinned. She tied her wrap about her waist, tousled her hair a bit more, and left the room, barefoot and yawning as she was.
Her husband was already at the table in the breakfast room, properly dressed for the day, and enjoying the plate before him.
Marianne sleepily made her way to the seat prepared for her at the opposite end, and heard her husband’s reaction before she saw it. His fork scraped against the plate just loudly enough for it to be unnatural, and she made a face at the noise. She adjusted her wrap a little as she sat in the chair and began to eat her own food.
Kit cleared his throat quickly. “Good morning,” he said, his voice apparently unaffected.
“Early morning, more like,” she grumbled as she cut herself a piece of ham.
“I thought you might like to enjoy as many hours in the day as you can,” Kit replied calmly. “Productivity is a noble quality.”
Marianne snorted at his pompous platitude as she chewed. “Leave the lectures for the preachers, Kit. I would much rather sleep than be productive this early.”
“Yes, so I see from your choice of wardrobe.”
Ah, there it was.
Marianne finally looked up at him, and while someone who did not know him might have thought him composed, she noted the tightness in his jaw and the hardness in his features, the coldness in his eyes.
He was livid.
She hid her thrill of pride and offered him the best stubborn glower she could. “You had me practically dragged out of bed to eat with you, knowing that I tend to sleep late. It was either come down as this or not at all.”
“In the future, you will be properly dressed,” he ordered, his nostrils flaring slightly as his fork twisted absently in his hand.
“For all other meals, yes. For early breakfasts like this, if you insist upon them, no. I shall come just as I am.”
“Marianne…”
She shook her head slowly, then went back to eating. “Choose your battles, Kit. I come as I am or not at all.”
He was silent for a long time, but she could feel his glare.
“Don’t glower so darkly when we are eating,” she told him, as if he were a moody child. “You will turn something rotten and I have no desire to be ill.”
Kit suddenly shoved off from the table and stormed from the room, and Marianne fought the urge to smile.
She sat back in her chair and saw one of the footmen struggling against a smile as well. He looked at her, and she winked conspiratorially, which made his struggle worse and he fixed his gaze straight ahead once more.
She finished her breakfast, then sighed in thought. For all her distress the night before, she really had slept quite well. Her bed was comfortable, her room spacious, and her fatigue had been so complete she had hardly dreamed at all.
She frowned a little as she considered that Kit was going out, no doubt to see his brother. Colin had many sources for gossip, and would know what to expect when Marianne went out in public once more. She winced as she realized that she’d goaded Kit, making him less likely to be accommodating for a favor, but she had to try.
She rushed from the breakfast room, and asked a maid where Mr. Gerrard had gone, and was directed to the front of the house, as he was leaving.
She caught him just as he was taking his hat and gloves from his valet.
“Where are you going?” she asked, slightly breathless from her running.
He barely glanced at her. “To see my brother and my sisters. You object?”
“No, of course not,” she replied, folding her arms.
“You wanted me to stay here and entertain you?” he asked pointedly as he pulled on his gloves.
>
She snorted, bringing a surprised quirk of brows from the valet. “Hardly.”
Kit turned and sighed impatiently. “Then what is it, Marianne? You wanted your independence, I am letting you have it.”
She gave him a skeptical look.
“Breakfast and servant selection aside,” he allowed with a roll of his eyes.
“I had a question I wanted to ask,” she said simply.
He gestured irritably. “So ask.”
“I was wondering if you might speak to Colin about… rumors.”
Kit sighed impatiently. “What?”
“About us.” She rolled her eyes at his look. “Me, then. I… I don’t know what people are saying about me, and I find that I am worried about going out in public without knowing.”
Kit eyed her carefully, and Marianne bit her lip before she could stop herself. It was a childish habit, but she felt very young all of a sudden.
Kit exhaled again. “Very well. I shall inquire, but I make no promises.” He inclined his head and spun on his heel and was out the door before she had blinked once.
“Thank you,” she muttered to the closed door. “So considerate. Very husbandly.” She pushed a loose tendril of hair behind her ear, tucked her wrap around her, and returned to the breakfast room, worry suddenly gnawing at her stomach.
Chapter Six
“So how was your trip?”
Kit gave Colin a baleful look, and turned back to hear the rest of Bitty’s story of what happened to one of the maids when Freddie and Rosie had a footrace in the hallway. He wasn’t actually listening, and she knew it, but she appreciated the show of it.
Rosie was refusing to speak to him at the moment, as punishment for his getting married without her presence or permission, and was reading in the corner instead.
Bitty had no such bitterness and thought the present her brothers had brought for her an appropriate apology. Ginny couldn’t have cared less either way, but she was torn between the attitudes of her sisters and settled upon wandering aimlessly about the room, jabbering to herself.
He made some noncommittal reaction to Bitty’s story and Mrs. Creighton summoned the children for their lessons, leaving Colin and Kit alone in the room.
“So it was bad?” Colin asked as he pushed to his feet and gestured for Kit to follow.
“Did you not understand my look just then?” Kit asked him in return. “I clearly don’t want to talk about it.”
“And I am clearly ignoring that and asking anyway,” Colin replied with no small amount of cheek, leading him into their newly refurbished drawing room.
“It was tolerable,” Kit allowed with a sigh, taking a chair.
Colin raised a brow. “Well, that tells me a lot.”
Kit snorted. “I’m not discussing my marriage with you, Colin.”
“Will you discuss it with me?” asked a feminine voice from the door.
He turned and saw Susannah entering the room, looking more pregnant than she had last he’d seen her, but with a healthy glow that was quite becoming on her.
He smiled fondly and rose to kiss her cheek. “Perhaps, depending on what it is you want to know.”
Colin barked a laugh and sat down, pulling Susannah into his lap as he did so. “So? How is it?” Susannah asked.
He sighed and made a face. “It’s only been a few days.”
“Bad already?” Colin asked.
Kit wavered between vagueness and honesty. “She is… complicated.”
“We knew that beforehand,” Colin pointed out.
“Difficult.”
“Knew that.”
“Contentious.”
“And that.”
“Driving me insane.”
“And that as well.”
Kit gave his brother an exasperated look, and Colin only grinned in response.
“I don’t know how to be a husband,” Kit admitted.
“Neither does Colin,” Susannah assured him.
“What?” her husband cried.
Susannah winked and struggled up from his lap. “I am going to leave you two to a discussion that I probably should not hear.” She turned to Kit with a smile. “Lovely to see you. Staying a while?”
He nodded and returned her smile. “For dinner, I think. I owe the girls.”
She suddenly had a knowing look in her eyes that he wasn’t sure he liked.
“What?” he asked defensively.
She shrugged and rubbed at her belly absently. “Most men having been married four days would rather spend their time with their wife.”
His expression soured. “I am not most men.”
“True.” But her voice still rang with disapproval, and she gave him a look as she left the room.
Colin sighed and set both feet flat on the floor. “All right, Kit. What is the trouble?”
Kit rubbed at his eyes, suddenly feeling a weariness seep into him. “I married Marianne.”
“Did you forget that?” Colin quipped with a laugh. “I can remind you whenever you like. I was there, I saw the whole thing. It was rather like a funeral. Only less crying.”
Kit glared at him and leaned back against the chair. “I knew it would be difficult, but I suppose I did not fully comprehend how it would affect me.”
Colin raised a brow slowly. “What is affecting you?”
Kit debated telling him what had him so irritated this morning. After all, the private matters of his marriage were not his brother’s concern, unless they related to the family as a whole. Still, Colin had some insight into loving and hating the same woman, and perhaps this madness might actually make sense to him.
He could still see the glorious vision in his head. Marianne coming into the breakfast room, rumpled and sleep-tousled, in naught but her nightgown. The cream gown seemed to fit her perfectly, and yet not fit at all, and the gold details on the bodice had echoed the gold embroidery in her wrap. He could still see her padding barefoot and sleepily into the room, apparently unaware of the tempting picture she presented, and sitting down at breakfast as if it were a perfectly normal thing to come down to meals so dressed.
Somehow he had been composed outwardly, but if this was what he was to expect from his marriage…
Choose your battles, she had said.
But which side was he on?
Carefully, he wetted his lips. “This morning was… interesting,” he said slowly.
Colin seemed to sense this was important, for he remained silent and nodded in encouragement.
A faint exhale escaped him, and Kit winced. “I forced her to rise early to eat breakfast with me.”
“Good heavens,” Colin exclaimed softly, eyes wide.
Kit looked at him in surprise. “What?”
Colin laughed in a bit of disbelief. “It’s a wonder you are still alive. Why did you do that?”
Kit shrugged and rubbed his hands together. “I wanted to have some sense of order. And I wanted to provoke her a little.”
Colin’s laugh faded softly and he waved for him to continue.
“She fought back, but not in the way I expected.” Kit held his breath, wondering how to politely say what had happened. “She came… but…”
At his fumbling, Colin sat up straighter, his expression expectant, and a touch intrigued.
Kit sighed heavily. “She was… sans proper attire.”
Colin’s face was entirely blank and devoid of emotion. “Meaning…?”
“She was in a nightgown and wrap,” Kit grumbled, wishing the recollection would not cause such warmth in his chest.
“Oh!” Colin cried softly. “Oh… well…” He trailed off, eyes suddenly full of laughter.
Kit looked at him again, gesturing for him to elaborate. “What? Well, what? It is shocking, isn’t it?”
Colin shrugged a little, a pert smile forming on his lips. “You’re married to Marianne. I expect nothing and I am surprised by nothing.”
He glowered at his brother, his teeth grinding softly. He needed no remin
der of the woman he married, or the insanity of his choice. He needed advice, he needed space, and he needed to find ways to cope with her maddening ability to drive him to distraction.
He needed his brother to be on his side.
Colin’s smile grew to nearly a grin. “And just for the sake of argument, I actually enjoy it when my wife comes to breakfast like that.”
Kit muttered incoherently and shoved up out of his chair, going to the fireplace. “Changing the subject,” he said firmly.
“If you must,” Colin said, still laughing.
“Marianne wants to know… and I confess, I do as well, what is being said about her.”
Colin sobered at once, which made Kit look back at him.
His brother appeared hesitant, which was more of a warning than Kit was expecting. “Well?”
“If you want to know the whole of it, Kit,” Colin said in a low voice, “I am not the person to ask. But you know who is.” He widened his eyes meaningfully, and Kit knew his intent.
The Gent would know.
That was certainly no help at all, but it did give him some scope. He shook his head slowly. “That bad?”
Colin nodded once. “More than likely. What whispers I have heard have been what we expected to hear, and it is not good.”
Kit bit back a curse and ground his teeth. This was not what he wanted. Marianne had a cold exterior, but he strongly suspected she was far more sensitive than she would ever let on. This could destroy her.
“I cannot add to it,” Kit muttered, moving back to his chair. “This will be hard enough for her, I cannot be so unfeeling as to make home a burden as well.” Feeling suddenly drained of everything, Kit leaned forward, putting his face into his hands. “What did I do?” he moaned.
“I don’t know,” Colin said simply. “I tried to warn you.”
Kit glared at him, which Colin only smiled at. Kit sighed and rubbed his hands together. “I know I need to be better. I may have underestimated what it would be like to be married to her.”
“The situation is hardly typical,” Colin told him, looking far too understanding. “I do not think expectations come into play here.”
Kit nodded soberly. “If I want something to be different, I cannot blame or control her. I can only control myself. So, I must be controlled.”
A Bride Worth Taking (Arrangements, Book 6) Page 7