A Bride Worth Taking (Arrangements, Book 6)

by Rebecca Connolly

  Fighting more tears, Marianne looped her arms around his waist and clung to him, wondering if it were possible that her husband was a far better man than she had ever believed or imagined. Gratitude unlike anything she’d ever known rose within her, and she buried her face against him. Impossibly, his arms tightened further, and he quickly and capably carried them home, the rain no longer seeming to bother either of them.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Glendare Court was all a bustle with their arrival, and Kit insisted on carrying Marianne up to her rooms even as he gave orders. Mrs. Dinstable was hot on his heels, echoing his wishes on a bark of sorts to the servants, and gave a few additional commands of her own. Marianne still shook in his arms, and Kit rubbed where he held her as best as he could.

  Once they were in her rooms, he set her down, stripped his damp jacket off, and immediately went to work on her clothing. He untied her bonnet ribbons and flung that across the room, then did the same with her cloak. He bent to the ground and said, “Put your hands on my shoulders.”

  Marianne did so, shaking all over and fighting to keep her teeth from chattering audibly. “I c-can do it,” she managed to stammer out as he worked at the laces of her boots.

  He paused to look up at her with one incredulous brow raised. “You are barely able to stand.” He went back to her boots and lifted her feet one at a time to take the filthy footwear off, setting them aside and wiping his hands on his trousers.

  He rose and turned her around, his fingers suddenly flying along the buttons at her back. She made a weak sound of surprise, but he did not pause now. “I’m not being forward,” he murmured. “I am just trying to get you warm and dry. It will be much faster if I do it than to have you try.”

  She nodded jerkily and forced herself to keep still. Her head was throbbing and her body ached, and her fingers burned with the pain of cold. “You c-could have a servant do it,” she reminded him, biting back a small gasp when his fingers brushed the thin material of her chemise as he divested her of her corset.

  “I could,” he said in a very off-hand way as he moved to the hem of her chemise and started to draw it upwards. “Arms up. However, doing so would draw attention to certain ideas about our relationship, and I know how you feel about servants gossiping.”

  Marianne bit out a short, shaky bark of laughter as he tugged on the wet garment that clung to her, finally getting it over her head. She clamped down on her lips as she covered herself, ignoring another accidental brush of his fingers against her back, and glanced down at the sodden chemise, now crumpled on the floor. An instant later, the warm fabric of her velvet-lined dressing gown was draped over her back and shoulders and she shivered in appreciation, pulling it around her and sliding her arms into the sleeves.

  “And turn to face me,” Kit said with politeness.

  Marianne obeyed, her cheeks feeling oddly warm despite freezing everywhere else. If there was any situation more mortifying than this, she didn’t know it. But he was right, she could not have managed by herself, and calling for a servant would have been a cause for comment, considering how Kit had brought her in.

  Still, she could honestly say she had never expected this.

  Kit crouched and quickly unlaced the ties of her drawers at her waist, then immediately crouched further to finish his task with her garters and stockings, sliding them down her legs with more efficiency than any maid in the world. One light tug on the material of her drawers, and she was entirely naked beneath her robe, which she clutched to herself as tightly as possible.

  An embarrassed blush rose on her skin, every conceivable inch of her, but Kit had already turned away from her, gathering all the scattered articles of clothing and forming them into a pile near the door. He grabbed a blanket set down by one of the servants, opened it fully, and turned back to her.

  “Come here,” he said firmly, his eyes running over her in assessment.

  Marianne obeyed, the blanket as welcome a sight as Kit himself had been earlier.

  He wrapped it tightly around her, then moved her over by the fire. With speed and remarkable ease, he removed every one of her pins and had her hair hanging to its full length in moments, then wrung the whole length out onto the rug beneath them. To her surprise, he moved her over to a nearby chair, sat down himself, then pulled her onto his lap and wrapped his arms around her once more, rubbing her arms rapidly.

  “You’re freezing,” he muttered, shaking his head. “I may turn to ice just holding you.”

  He, on the other hand, was wonderfully warm. Marianne moved some of the blanket to cover his shoulder so she could lay her head against him without further drenching his clothing. “I’m not being affectionate,” she murmured as she found herself nuzzling closer, “but I’m very cold, and you are very warm.” She couldn’t resist a helpless giggle as her words mirrored his earlier ones.

  Kit did not miss it either and he smiled. “I know. That’s why I’m allowing it.”

  She raised her head to look at his clothing, and frowned. “You’re all wet.”

  He exhaled in amusement. “I wonder why.”

  She winced and covered her face with part of the blanket. “I’m sorry.”

  “Stop that,” he said gruffly, his hands stilling momentarily. “No more apologizing. It was not your fault.”

  She nodded and gasped a little as another strong tremor passed through her.

  “How long until that bath is ready?” Kit barked as he resumed rubbing her arms.

  “Don’t do that,” she murmured, nudging at him. “They’re doing the best they can.”

  “You’ll catch your death if it’s not soon,” he grumbled, turning them so she was closer to the fire.

  She pulled the blanket more tightly around her. “I will not.” She shivered hard against him. “How long did it take you to find me?”

  “A little less than an hour.”

  Marianne suddenly turned her head. “Agnes!” she bellowed, making Kit jump beneath her.

  “Madam?” Agnes replied quickly with a bob as she reappeared.

  “Do we have two baths?” Marianne asked in a much more polite tone.

  “Yes, madam.”

  “What are you doing?” Kit asked with a smile.

  She ignored him. “Have the other set up in Mr. Gerrard’s room straight away, if you please.”

  “Yes, madam.” Agnes bobbed again and left them as more maids filled the bath.

  Marianne turned to look up at Kit. “You’re not catching your death either. You gave me your coat on the ride back in, and now you are sitting here in sodden clothing. The moment you see fit to release me to the care of the maids, you are to see to your own bath and health.” She smiled at his surprised expression. “You see? I can toss around orders as well as you.”

  He smiled and shook his head, and rubbed her arms gently. “Yes, you can.”

  Agnes reappeared, rubbing her hands together for warmth and smiling. “We are ready for you, madam.”

  Kit rose with his arms still around her and did not release her until he was assured of her steadiness on her own feet. Agnes took Marianne’s arm and helped her over to the bath.

  “I will see you at supper, Marianne,” Kit said with a nod.

  Marianne winced and gave him an apologetic look. “I’m not sure I am up for fine dining this evening, Kit. I’d rather have a tray in here, if you don’t mind.”

  His eyes were surprisingly warm and Marianne bit her lip in hesitation. He’d told her before they would take meals together, and there were no excuses save for illness. But surely, just this once…

  He nodded once more, a slight hint of a smile on his lips. “If you wish it.” He looked at Agnes with mock sternness. “You stop her shivering, Agnes. I want her pink and warm and no hint of chattering teeth.”

  Agnes grinned openly. “Yes, sir. I’ll not leave her until she steams herself.”

  He nodded politely, gave Marianne one last look, his expression rife with something she could not identify
, and then he left the room, shutting the door behind him.

  “You poor thing,” Agnes half whimpered as she drew the robe from Marianne’s shoulders and helped her into the tub. “I’ll set you to rights, see if I won’t. Me and my girls will have you back to yourself in no time.”

  “You are the senior upstairs maid, then?” Marianne asked with a hiss as she sank down into the tub’s hot water, her skin tingling in its numb appreciation of the heat.

  Agnes nodded once and rolled her sleeves. “Aye, I am. And don’t you feel that you need to talk to me, madam, unless talking eases you. You just relax yourself and let me see to you.”

  Marianne nodded and leaned back against the edge of the tub, and did her best to relax as Agnes and the other maids helped her to bathe. They scrubbed every inch of her skin until she felt as though she was new all over, and her hair had been washed and rinsed and wrung until she could feel every strand. Then she was ordered to remain in the tub afterwards and let the heat seep into her aching limbs, and bonelessly she obeyed, rather feeling that any movement at all would be impossible.

  True to her word, Agnes did not leave her side the entire time, her warmth and kindness as soothing as the bath itself. She offered Marianne her choice of any of the girls she’d met to act as her lady’s maid, as she’d left hers in London, and Marianne smiled at that prospect.

  Mrs. Dinstable appeared and asked after her, then helped Agnes towel Marianne off and remove her from the tub. The two older women helped Marianne into a new chemise and nightgown, followed by a fresh robe that she didn’t recognize.

  “This isn’t mine,” she protested, rolling back the thick sleeves that extended beyond her hands.

  “It is your husband’s, madam,” Mrs. Dinstable said as she ushered Marianne to sit so Agnes could rub the towel through her hair.

  “My husband’s?” Marianne repeated, looking down at the fine garment, so thick and warm. “But what will he wear?”

  “I understand that he is dressing as per usual, madam, and has no need of it,” the woman replied, handing over a comb to Agnes.

  Marianne pursed her lips in thought as they worked on her hair. She didn’t dare think Kit was being preferable, but he was being inordinately kind towards her, and she so little deserved it. But he had forbidden any further apologizing, so she supposed she would have to do so by her actions instead. And she would not refuse any goodness that he gave.

  If he could try, so could she.

  Then again, he had completely undressed her only an hour ago. Surely that was not insignificant.

  Mrs. Dinstable came around to the front and smiled at Marianne. “There, madam. You look much more to rights.”

  Marianne smiled up at her in return. “Thanks to your good care, and Agnes’s ministrations, I feel more to rights.”

  “Your husband was vastly concerned,” Mrs. Dinstable said with a sad shake of her head. “You should have seen him tearing out of the house as wild as anything. I told Agnes he would be the one to find you, what with determination like that, and find you he did.”

  “I’m right glad he did, too,” Agnes echoed emotionally.

  Marianne smiled fondly at the two women who had cared so well for her. “So am I,” she murmured softly.

  They collected the toweling up and a few maids entered to take the tub away. Mrs. Dinstable smiled from the door. “I will see to your supper tray, madam.”

  Marianne sat for several minutes staring into the fire, letting the warmth of it continue to heat her, no longer feeling the chill from outside or the aches in her limbs. She was fatigued into an unknown state of weariness, but her pain and her distress were all melted away. She drew her legs up beneath her and folded herself more deeply into Kit’s robe, sighing softly as she felt herself relax even more still.

  The tide between her and her husband had to turn now. After what he’d said today, about forgiving her and a second chance, and holding her so close, helping her with her clothing, and being so genuinely concerned about her… Everything about his behavior indicated that he was certainly not indifferent to her, and far from it. Was it possible that he had decided to change at last?

  Given his behavior today, she rather expected he would be the one to bring up her tray and see after her. If he did that, she would be more than capable of convincing him to stay and partake with her. Perhaps they could even talk and she could test the waters a little, so to speak. It was high time she knew her place in her husband’s opinion and estimation.

  The good opinion of one’s husband was surely not such a shocking thing to wish for, was it?

  A light knocking at the door brought her head around with a smile.

  “Come,” she called softly.

  Mrs. Dinstable entered with a warm smile and a heavily laden tray, and Marianne was surprised at the crush of disappointment she felt.

  Where was Kit?

  She forced herself to smile and spoke lightly with the housekeeper as she bustled about getting things situated for her, and only when she prepared to leave the room did she bring herself to ask about her husband.

  “Oh, he had himself a hot bath, and a fresh set of clothes, and he is taking his supper in the dining room,” Mrs. Dinstable said with a smile. “He asked if I might check in on you and let him know if you would be needing a physician. Shall I tell him you wish to see him?”

  At this moment? No, she did not wish to see him. She would probably throttle him. Eating in the dining room without her? After what she had been through today, he was giving up her care to the housekeeper?

  After he had very swiftly stripped her clean and made it his own personal duty to keep her warm? Good gracious, had he even looked during that time? He must have. But as she thought back, he had treated her as he would have a child, perhaps one of his sisters. Firm but gentle orders, swift and methodical changes, and no apology or real concern for mortification or embarrassment because he would not think it was called for under the circumstances.

  And yet she was a full woman and no child at all.

  Either his control was truly one of the great wonders of the earth or he was as cold blooded as a fish.

  She barely managed to hide a scowl. “No, thank you, Mrs. Dinstable. You are too kind. Truly, I think I am well. I expect we shall know more in the morning.”

  Mrs. Dinstable smiled again and bobbed a little. “Indeed, madam. You get your rest now and I’ll send Sophie up to collect your tray and help you prepare for bed,”

  Marianne returned her smile, nodded, and when the door was closed once more, she let the smiled fade and glowered into the fire.

  She rather hoped she would take ill. It would give her an excuse to avoid her husband and perhaps let guilt start to grow within him.

  Assuming he was at all familiar with the emotion.

  Kit knew he was in trouble the next morning when Marianne came down to breakfast fully dressed, hair pulled back a bit severely for her, and her eyes already full of indignation. She glared at him as if he had somehow greatly offended her, though he had no idea what he was supposed to have done between yesterday and today.

  After all, he did save her, and he did go to a lot of trouble to get her back safely and took great consideration for her health.

  And he did sacrifice almost an entire night of sleep on account of his mutinous memory replaying a certain part of the day repeatedly and in great detail, at much slower speeds.

  His inability to catch his breath after leaving her room, even in his own hot bath, was the chief reason why he did not go back to check on her. He was feeling things again, and he could not feel things for her.

  Oh, he meant what he said to her. He did need to forgive her, and he was working on it. Her humiliation and sorry state yesterday had shaken him and he would never forget the look on her face. He really should talk to her about it, find out how bad it was, but he couldn’t bring himself to do that. He might find himself going to his knees before her and saying all sorts of things that he would never be able
to take back.

  She did deserve a second chance, and he would give her one.

  Just not until he could get control of himself.

  After all, she hadn’t changed all that much. The way she looked at him at this moment proved that. He’d been damn heroic yesterday and she was mad at him. No doubt he’d forgotten to bring her flowers or warm her bed or walk her down the stairs so she would not injure herself.

  How dare he.

  “Good morning, Marianne,” he said pleasantly, rising from his chair and giving her a bow. “How did you sleep?”

  “Like hell,” she snapped, sitting in her chair with a thud.

  He blinked in surprise. Marianne did not swear, as far as he knew, and yet… “I am sorry about that,” he replied sympathetically as he retook his seat. “Are you taken ill? The physician is not far, I can send for him if you wish.”

  “I am fine,” she replied, waving a footman over to scoot her chair in for her. “And if I wasn’t, I would tell Mrs. Dinstable so she could give you a report of it.”

  He tried not to smile as he took a bite of his eggs. “You sound as if you might be getting a cold.”

  She gripped her fork so tightly he thought it might bend. “My nose is a little stuffed up,” she said slowly, forcing a smile that was more of a grimace, “but it is nothing I cannot bear. A token of my little adventure yesterday.”

  “That is a pity.”

  “Isn’t it?” She resumed eating and then made a face. “I forgot to thank you last night for… you know.”

  “For what?” he asked, feeling rather impertinent.

  “You know very well what,” she ground out.

  He pursed his lips in confusion, and shook his head. “Sorry, I don’t.”

  The glare he received was worth every bit of impertinence. “For riding out into the rain, at the risk of your own health and safety, to come and find your poor, lost, soaking wet wife who had been wandering for hours because she had no idea that her estate contained the entire county of Somerset in its grounds.” She gave him a simpering smile even as her eyes skewered him with daggers. “It was really quite dashing of you.”