The Most Unlikely Lady

by Barbara Devlin

  “I understand.” As they entered the forecourt and approached the main entrance, Everett was thankful for the conversation. The respite from his inner musings kept him from heeling the flanks of his horse and galloping full speed into Sabrina’s arms.

  “And on that note, I believe I shall search out my wife and make love to her until dinner.” Trevor winked. “If you hear a scream, do not raise the alarm.”

  “Brother, you may not see me until breakfast, as my most unlikely lady boasts an appetite that could rival that of any man.” Now Everett laughed in earnest.

  “Ah, it is good to be a husband.” Trevor slapped a thigh.

  The undergrooms scurried to provide assistance just as he and Trevor dismounted. He turned to the double doors, his heart heavy with anticipation as he awaited his wife’s appearance.

  Everett wondered in what unconventional fashion his bride would welcome him home. Would she charge forth from her chamber, hair still wet from a bath, gown clinging like a second skin, and jump him in the hall? Would she upend a table laden with dishes from afternoon tea, sending cups and saucers flying, in an effort to greet him? He chuckled as he pictured the last.

  The doors opened as they ascended the stairs.

  To his infinite disappointment, Ware loomed at the threshold. “Good evening, my lord. Welcome home.”

  Everett doffed his hat and tugged at his gloves, surreptitiously glancing at the stairs as he freed a hand. The one person he most wanted to see remained absent. He peered down the empty hall, and the deafening quiet disappointed him. At his side, Trevor passed his cloak to the butler.

  “Where is--” The pitter-patter of familiar footfalls silenced him.

  In that instant, Sabrina sprinted into the foyer, with her skirts hiked, affording a scandalous display of her calves, and her slippered feet sliding on the polished marble floor. “You are home!”

  She cast him a radiant smile before leaping at him. In Sabrina’s wake, Caroline mimicked the charming maneuvers and likewise flung herself at Trevor.

  Tossing his gloves at Ware, Everett caught his wife, mid-air, in a bear of a hug, laughing in delight as she showered his face in kisses. When her lips found his, the laughter ceased.

  Before things got out of hand, and with his wife that was a certainty, he headed for the stairs. Taking each step slowly, the toes of her slippers tapping against the shins of his boots, he suckled her little pink tongue.

  “Dinner in your reception room, my lord?” Ware asked from the foot of the stairs.

  The question barely registered. “Mmm hmm.” Everett doubted he could take his mouth off his wife, even had he wanted to, and he wanted otherwise.

  “Seven, my lord?”

  Much to his displeasure, Sabrina broke their kiss. He stopped on the landing, with her secured in his embrace, and stared into her eyes.

  A flirty grin blossomed. “Eight,” she replied with confidence.

  “Very good, my lady. I will make excuses to your guests.”

  Everett blinked. Was that amusement in his stodgy butler’s voice? He shuddered when she scored her fingernails over the sensitive skin at the nape of his neck, commanding every inch of him. And currently his inches were at full sail.

  His heartbeat and pace quickened. “Now, where were we?” he murmured against her lips.

  #

  “Rinse.”

  Everett slid beneath the surface of the water as not-so-dainty fingers scrubbed his hair. When he rose, Sabrina slipped between his legs, splayed her hands over his ribs, skimmed his shoulders, and wrapped her arms about his neck. Water splashed over the rim of the oversized bath, and he wiped moisture from his eyes before closing his arms about her.

  She pressed her cheek to his chest and snuggled close. “I missed you so much.”

  “I missed you, too, love.” He cradled her head. “Did everything go all right while I was away? Where there any problems?”

  Sabrina bit her lip and tried not to flinch.

  Should she tell him the truth and admit her failure?

  Desperate to confide in him, she wanted to share the hurtful things his mother had said but was unsure of his response.

  If only Everett loved her.

  Sabrina could share everything; safe in the knowledge her husband would not reject her. She would be assured of his allegiance, of his support. But as much as it pained her to admit it, she would not lie to herself.

  Everett had not loved her.

  It was as though she skated on thin ice. At any moment, the hazardous ground upon which she had trod could collapse, leaving her to founder and cause him further embarrassment. And in her opinion, she had embarrassed him enough already.

  Sabrina closed her eyes. “Everything is fine.” She lied, hoping in secret it would be so.

  “Mother did not give you any trouble?”

  Her mind raced as she searched for a suitable answer. It was bad enough to be untruthful. She had not wanted to compound her dilemma. When no comfortable explanation came to her, she sought another escape.

  A distraction.

  There was one safe wager.

  Shifting suggestively against him, Sabrina lifted her head and set her mouth to his. “Everything is fine,” she whispered against his lips.

  They were the last coherent words spoken that night.

  #

  “Well, I am so happy you two could find your way out of your apartments and see fit to join us for dinner this evening.” The marchioness sniffed at her soup and dipped her spoon in the liquid.

  Preparing to sample the first course, Everett sighed and rolled his eyes. “Mother, it was a long journey, and I needed my rest.”

  “Lord Lockwood managed to dine with us.” She cast Trevor a sickeningly sweet smile, which had him shifting in his seat. “I believe he made the same trip.”

  “Perhaps he is fortunate to possess more stamina than I.” Everett lifted his napkin, dabbed the corners of his mouth, and signaled the servants to serve the next course.

  At the opposite end of the table, Sabrina chewed her bottom lip and vowed in silence to forswear her nervous habit if she survived the meal without any trouble. Her mother-in-law was up to something. She could see it in the expression, supreme and confident, the marchioness wore. In an instant, Sabrina blamed herself for the impending danger.

  After cajoling her husband into taking breakfast and lunch in their chamber, she had thought only of the immediate benefit--having Everett to herself. She had not considered the reaction she would incite in his mother, and she knew without doubt a confrontation loomed on the horizon.

  What if her mother-in-law complained of the burr in her bed? Or worse, the marchioness could repeat the horrible things she had said afterward, for the delectation of all those present. Sabrina’s humiliation would be complete.

  On the thought, Sabrina almost fainted. Quick as a flash, she snapped to attention. Now was not the time for dramatics. Her mind raced in search of a distraction and every nerve stretched with tension. She latched on to the one thing she could think of to avoid a disaster.

  “My lord, will you not share your success with everyone?” she suggested, and prayed she had done the right thing.

  “Ah, yes.” Everett smiled at her from across the table. “The bridge.”

  “Do tell,” the marquess added, as he accepted a portion of roast duck from the footman. “Have you seen to the repairs?”

  “Actually, I have issued orders to have the remains torn down and a new bridge built in its place--”

  “Are you mad?” The marquess erupted into a violent coughing fit. He gulped his dinner wine and wiped his mouth on the sleeve of his coat. “It will cost a small fortune to rebuild that bridge.”

  Everett halted the tirade with an upraised hand. “Father, what remains of the bridge, which looks to have been built a century ago, is not stable enough to repair. I daresay I would be repairing it again before the year is out.” He shook his head and caressed the stem of his glass. “No, it was not
worth fixing. It is better to spend the money and rebuild it right, than to try and patch an unstable structure.”

  “I agree.” Trevor rose to her husband’s defense, and Sabrina could have kissed him. “The trusses had deteriorated and needed to be replaced. Best to tear down the lot of it and begin anew.”

  “Hmm.” The marquess rubbed his chin in thought. “I suppose you secured the opinion of an expert?”

  Everett frowned. “It did not take an expert to see the structure was completely unsound. I would not let my best hound cross that bridge.”

  “And what if you are wrong?” The marquess pounded his fist on the table. “You will have squandered money on a useless endeavor.”

  “It is not a useless endeavor,” Everett insisted. “That bridge is used by tenants who work the farmland on the other side of the river. It must be strong enough to support the carts and equipment necessary to farm the fields.”

  “You are just like your brother.” The marquess tossed his napkin on the table. “And you will drive that estate into ruin.”

  “That is not fair,” Everett responded through gritted teeth.

  “You are quite right, my lord.” The marchioness patted her husband on the hand. “Do not bother with him. He is as bad, if not worse, than Charles. How we managed to raise such ungrateful sons is beyond me.”

  Blasted old grouch. Wondering how she had managed to hold her tongue for so long, Sabrina shot out of her chair. “How dare you say such a thing, you miserable harpy?”

  A chorus of gasps filled the air.

  Everett stood. “Sabrina.”

  With the words of her in-laws ringing in her ears, and Lady Elizabeth’s harsh treatment fueling her fury, Sabrina set both hands on the table and leaned forward. Anger colored her senses, and rational thought abandoned her. “Everett has done more for his tenants in a month than the previous earl did in his lifetime.”

  “Sabrina.” Everett tried, but failed, to silence her, because she would not be denied retribution.

  “He is thoughtful, kind, and generous.” Mustering what she hoped was a lethal stare, Sabrina centered her ire on the marchioness. “And you? You are one to talk. You do nothing but complain. My staff has worked their fingers to the bone seeing to your comfort, but do you appreciate their efforts?” She lashed out with an arm. “Hah. You have not uttered the slightest bit of praise. You should be ashamed of yourself--”

  “Sabrina, that is enough!”

  In a state of confusion, with her chest heaving and pulse pounding, Sabrina glanced about the room. Save her very angry husband, and why he was upset she knew not, no one made eye contact with her, and she was not sure that was a good thing.

  Trevor and Caroline stared at their plates. Celia seemed to find the hem of her sleeve quite curious. The marquess sat with an owlish gaze and his mouth agape. The marchioness blinked several times, as if she could not believe her ears.

  Sabrina sensed it would not be long before reality dawned.

  And it was not.

  “Well.” The marchioness huffed and thrust her nose in the air. “How dare you--”

  “How dare you?” Sabrina countered.

  “I have never been so insulted in my life--”

  “Shut up, Lizzie,” the marquess snapped.

  The room grew quiet.

  Sabrina had the uneasy suspicion she had just committed some egregious offense, but she was not sure what she had done. Was it possible that defending her husband had been so shocking as to merit such a response?

  With both hands on his hips, Everett pinned her with an icy glare. “Sabrina, apologize.”

  Positive she heard wrong, she opened her mouth and then closed it. “W-what?”

  “Apologize, at once.” Everett furrowed his brow and bared his teeth.

  Shuddering with fear, she clenched her jaw. “You can’t mean that.”

  “I mean precisely that.” His icy tone bespoke some heinous transgression and portended doom. “Polite decorum demands an apology, this instant.”

  Still, Sabrina refused to believe she had erred. “But Lady Elizabeth is wrong. You are not--”

  “You are mistaken.” He inclined his head and lowered his chin, and she knew she was in trouble. “You must apologize.”

  She clung to denial, refusing to accept she was at odds with her staunchest ally. “You do not want me to apologize for what I said.” It was a statement, not a question.

  “I insist upon it.” He gave her no quarter.

  “But--”

  “Now.”

  “My lord, how can you ask that of me?” Sabrina held her arms wide in supplication. “I am not the one who spoke ill of you.”

  “It does not matter what was said.” Everett shifted his weight. “You have to apologize.”

  The world tilted on end, and Sabrina swayed. “Do you agree with her?”

  Everett raked a hand through his hair. “Sabrina, are you or are you not going to apologize?”

  For what offense? she asked herself. Stubborn and fortified with a wealth of pride, she shook her head. “I will not.”

  Everett threw his napkin to the floor. “Then go to your chambers--”

  “What?” She stiffened her back. “But--why?”

  He folded his arms. “Either apologize now or retire, at once.”

  She would rather eat her best bonnet. Sabrina swallowed the sharp retort she had prepared and, with head held high, inched from the table.

  As she neared the door, Everett said, “You will remain in your chambers, without visitors, until such time as you are prepared to render a sufficient apology for your behavior this evening.”

  “I warned you that girl was unsuitable.” The hateful woman got the last word again.

  In the hall, she paused and waited for a response, for Everett to defend her from his mother’s nasty remark. When none came, and the dining room remained quiet, she trudged forth. Despite the threatening tears, she navigated the grand staircase, anxiety mounting with each successive step, and turned left at the landing. The hall leading to their apartments suddenly seemed miles long.

  Sabrina managed to maintain her stubborn façade until she closed the door to her bedchamber. Once ensconced in her safe haven, she slumped her shoulders in defeat.

  If she were the dramatic sort, she would run across the room and fling herself on the bed.

  If she were the dramatic sort.

  She supposed she could open a window and toss herself to the ground below. No doubt Everett would regret his treatment of her then. Of course, she would probably regret it more.

  But how could her husband betray her when she had acted on his behalf?

  And it was a betrayal.

  He had sided with his mother against his wife, and Sabrina was not sure she could ever forgive him.

  Restless, she paced her room. With high dudgeon, she strode to the window, threw open the drapes, and stared at the sky. “He wants me to apologize?” she spat. “When hell freezes.”

  After a few hours passed, she undressed herself, refusing to ring for her lady’s maid. As she tied the ribbon at the throat of her robe, she glanced at the connecting door to Everett’s chamber. His deep baritone penetrated the walls of her suite as he conversed with his valet. When he dismissed his manservant, she approached the corridor.

  Though she was angry with her husband, she still wanted him. All the pent up emotion roiling within her belly spurred a familiar reaction. And her favored method of venting had called to her. She stared at the door.

  Should she go to him?

  Would he want her after what happened?

  Everett had banished Sabrina to her room, but had that meant she was barred from his bed, too? Ever since they had arrived at Beaumaris, they slept together. In fact, she had not given it a second thought. Every night, she donned her nightclothes and headed for his suite. It had never occurred to her to do otherwise.

  And if she dawdled, her husband came looking for her. She smiled as she recalled the ti
me Everett had charged the corridor, burst into her room wearing nothing but a robe, and sent Millie fleeing from the bedchamber in scandalized fright. Without ceremony, he had tossed Sabrina over his shoulder and stomped back to his suite, whereupon he ripped the clothes from her body. He had made love to her as a ravenous wolf--and she had loved every minute of it.

  Perhaps she should wait until he came to her.

  With a giggle, she walked to the chaise and plopped herself down. Adopting a seductive pose, she waited for the beast to invade.

  As the minutes ticked by, Sabrina grew more and more apprehensive. She chewed her bottom lip and, after the events of the night, she was surprised she had not chewed all the way to her chin.

  What if Everett would not come to her?

  She marched to the adjoining door and placed her hand on the knob. The metal was cool against her heated palm and provided sufficient impetus to halt her in her tracks. With flagging confidence, Sabrina set her forehead to the oak panel.

  “Everett.”

  If her husband wanted her, he would have come for her.

  And he had not.

  She tried to convince herself he might be tired, tried to ignore the blatant implication. It would not be unheard of for a man to sleep alone. Most married couples slept apart. There was nothing wrong with it. There was no shame.

  Except Everett had always made it very clear, he liked his bed with her in it.

  She suspected he further communicated his displeasure, and she could have told him that was not necessary. Closing her eyes in a failed attempt to shut out the pain, Sabrina let her hand fall to her side. Slowly, with one last mournful glance at the door, she withdrew and went to bed.

  Alone.

  #

  Everett waited until his valet had exited his chamber before crossing the room to the door that led to his wife’s suite. He listened for some sound; anything to indicate Sabrina was still awake.

  Every fiber of his existence screamed at him to go to her, to hold her in his arms and soothe her injured pride, to make love to her and reassure her everything would be all right.