But for the first time since they had consummated their marriage, Everett was unsure of his welcome.
And he would not force her.
But neither had he thought he could take her rejection.
How he hated sending Sabrina to her chambers after the confrontation in the dining room, but she had left him no alternative.
To reprimand a peer of higher rank, regardless of the connection, was an egregious infraction of societal dictates. His wife had to know she could not commit such a breach of etiquette.
Sabrina was a countess.
There were standards to uphold.
She had to apologize.
As an earl, he had foundered in so many respects. According to his father, his agricultural skills lacked, he had spent too much money on improvements, and his supervision of the tenants insufficient. Managing his few personal estates had been nothing compared to the mountainous challenge of the earldom.
Everett was determined not to fail his wife.
And if he allowed her transgression to go unchecked, he would let her down. But no one had told him how much it would hurt to discipline his well-intentioned bride.
The haunting expression on her face when he ordered her to her room had scored a direct hit to his heart. How he ached.
Everett pressed his forehead to the oak-paneled door.
“Sabrina.”
He was the man; he had to be strong for both of them, even if it killed him.
And it might.
For a minute, he held his breath, hoping to hear some indication his wife was coming to him, just as she always had. But there was nothing, not a sound.
He wondered if Sabrina was angry with him. Though he agreed with what she had said, and was more than a little pleased with her awkward exhibition of loyalty, he was convinced he had acted in her best interest. The remedy for her offense was an apology. She had to set it right, else suffer social censure.
And she had to do so of her own free will.
But would she see it that way? Would she hold his actions in the dining room against him? Had she thought him unfair or cruel? He was concerned about the effects of their disagreement. Had she cried herself to sleep? Perhaps he should look in on her, but he held himself in check. If she were asleep, he would only disturb her.
Everett turned his head and set his ear to the wood, but it was silent save the pounding of his heart. A dull pain settled in his chest, and a cold chill shivered down his spine.
Shoving away from the door, he went to bed.
Alone.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
It had been two days since her unplanned exile, and Sabrina again replayed the events of that ill-fated night in the dining room. As hard as she tried, she could not understand the fuss and was certain her husband had made too much of what happened. Surely her actions had not merited being treated like a recalcitrant child. If so, why had he not spanked her?
She paced the floor, an all too familiar occurrence of late, before the window overlooking the lawns, and marveled that there was any carpet left to cushion her footfalls.
Other than her lady’s maid, she had spoken to no one. Everett had made it clear she was to have no visitors, and he remained true to his word. Of course, she could have spoken to him, but the one time her husband came to her door, fury colored her senses, and she refused to grant him an audience.
How she wished she could speak to her friends. Perhaps Caroline or Celia could make sense of her situation. But that was a poorly disguised excuse for the simple fact that she was lonely. And since it was well known Sabrina could converse with a potted plant, solitude compounded her misery to an unimaginable degree.
Now she was angry.
Below, Everett walked the topiary garden with Celia and his parents. Strange, they had never invited her for a morning stroll. She hated herself for resenting the young woman his mother doted on without shame, when Celia had been nothing less than a true friend. Yet, even from Sabrina’s vantage, it was obvious the marchioness was still trying to convince her son that Celia would be a much better countess.
And Sabrina was no longer sure she disagreed.
Behind her, on a table near the chaise, a breakfast tray laden with covered dishes sat untouched. Her usually healthy appetite had dwindled with each passing day until it was non-existent.
She thought it a shame she could not eat herself into the size of an ox. With no one to gainsay her, she could gorge herself into oblivion. That would teach her ungrateful husband a lesson. But since she was positive she would revisit whatever she consumed, she passed on the opportunity.
It was small comfort when Millie confided that everyone on the household staff had heard of the incident and were firmly entrenched in her camp. It seemed Sabrina was lauded for coming to their defense and stood somewhere between sainthood and martyrdom in their opinion. Cook had even made a special batch of lemon tarts, her favorite. They, too, remained undisturbed on a plate.
She rubbed her tired eyes and turned away from the window. Though she had done nothing more than relax in her bedchamber, she had slept little and was exhausted. A glance in the vanity mirror reflected a woman with pale, almost ashen, skin. So she stopped looking in the mirror. She resumed pacing and thought she would have legs like a Thoroughbred when the to-do ended.
A creak had her facing the door. “Who goes there?”
Caroline peered around the edge. “Is it safe to enter?”
Sabrina nodded.
After closing the door, Caroline smiled. “I have missed talking to you, and so has Celia. By the by, she sends her regards. We worked together so I could sneak in here. Your husband has a footman guarding your chambers.” With arms outstretched, she met Sabrina in the middle of the room and embraced her. “How are you bearing up?”
Biting her tongue, Sabrina resisted the urge to cry. “Fine, I suppose.”
As Caroline set her back and stared at her face, her smile faded into a frown. She spied the chaise and led Sabrina to it.
“Brie, you look terrible.”
Sabrina glanced at their clasped hands. “Well, thanks so very much.”
“I mean it.” With a grave expression, Caroline said, “You do not seem at all yourself.”
“I am fine, truly.” Though Sabrina mustered her best smile, inside she wanted to scream at the unfairness of her situation.
“I came to tell you we are leaving.”
“No.” Sabrina shook her head. “You can’t. You are the only ones on my side. Please, do not leave me alone.”
“Unfortunately, your mother-in-law wears on my husband. We depart for London this afternoon.” Caroline patted her cheek. “But I could not go without saying goodbye and dispensing some unsolicited advice.”
Sabrina shifted in her seat and gooseflesh shivered over her arms. “Something tells me I am not going to like this.”
“You may not.” Caroline chuckled. “But it has to be said, and I would not count myself a friend if I did not encourage you to apologize to your in-laws.”
“What?” Her gut clenched. “Et tu, Brutus?”
“Brie, I am always on your side but, in this instance, you were wrong.” Caroline smoothed her skirts. “Hear me out.”
Folding her arms, Sabrina nodded her assent.
“As I was born the daughter of a duke, I have had to live within the boundaries of society far longer than have you. I have had to fulfill certain expectations you have only experienced on the fringe. Whether or not you welcome it, your status has changed, and you are a member of the peerage. There are higher standards, and you must adhere to the strictures governing our set. To fly in the face of that would reflect not only on yourself, but also Everett.” As if to underscore the importance of her lecture, Caroline clutched Sabrina’s hand. “It pains me to do this, but it must be said. Celia was right; the marchioness outranks you. It is not your place to correct her, neither in public nor in private.”
“Do you agree with what she did?” Sabrina asked as
dread danced a jig down her spine.
It never occurred to her that her dearest friend would find fault in Sabrina’s actions. Yet she knew Caroline would not do so lightly. Nor would she lead Sabrina astray. She felt an uneasy quiver in her belly, a sneaking suspicion she might have been wrong that night in the dining room.
“No. She is ill mannered, and her behavior is deplorable. You need not call attention to her. Doing so was very bad form.” Caroline furrowed her brow. “But I have watched her goad you since we arrived, and never have you responded in anything but an exemplary fashion as suits a lady of your station. I have been so proud of you. Why on earth did you change your tack? She is, even now, berating your husband without mercy for his decision to marry, and remain married, to you. And she is using your outburst to justify her position.”
Rebellion at the unfairness of it all echoed in her ears. Sabrina pointed a finger for emphasis as she prepared to make her argument.
And then it struck her.
Caroline was right--as was Everett.
The marchioness had made no secret of her disdain for her daughter-in-law. And she had been careful not to give the shrew any support. She had resisted every attempt by the harridan to lure her into an argument--except one. And it galled her to think it. The marchioness had attacked her own son to bring Sabrina down.
Blinded by fury, driven by an urge to protect her husband, she knew without doubt she had tripped--again. She had committed a horrible break from etiquette and prayed it was not unforgivable. But, worst of all, Everett suffered as a result of her infraction, which was the last thing she wanted.
“Oh, Caroline. I was wrong.” Closing her eyes, Sabrina could almost envision her mother-in-law gloating over her victory. Her mind raced as she searched for a way to undo her blunder. Everett’s words came to her amid the swirl of shame. “Is there any chance you could persuade Trevor to stay one more night? I would like to apologize at dinner, this evening.”
“No.” Caroline shook her head. “Our trunks are packed, and he is adamant about leaving. As it is, he is probably wonders where I am hiding.”
“It seems so unfair.” Sabrina blanched.
Caroline averted her stare. “Society is rarely fair, Brie.”
They stood and clasped hands.
“But you do not require my presence to do what must needs.” Caroline leaned forward and placed a sisterly kiss on Sabrina’s cheek. “Remember, you are the countess of Woverton. No one, not even the marchioness, can take that from you.”
Sabrina stood silent, choking back tears, as Caroline walked to the door. At the last minute, her friend peered back and said, “If you require a shoulder, we will be in London until the holidays.”
Then she was gone.
And Sabrina had never felt more alone in her life.
#
Trailing her gloved hand down the polished wood banister, Sabrina descended the grand staircase. Gowned in the familiar black silk of mourning trimmed in grey, and her hair arranged in a severe knot, she took each step one at a time. Though it was early in September, and the house was quite warm, she was chilled to the bone and kept her jaw clenched to keep her teeth from chattering. A lull of voices filtered through the foyer, and she knew everyone had been seated for dinner. At the foot of the stairs, she turned right and navigated the hall leading to the elegant formal dining room. When Sabrina reached the arched entry, she stopped.
The conversation ceased.
At the head of the table, Everett stood.
Though some would call her a coward, she focused on the black armband he wore to honor his brother’s memory, because she lacked the strength to meet his gaze.
As a death knell played in her ears, Sabrina faced the marchioness. “My lady, I sincerely apologize for my behavior of two nights past and regret any embarrassment I may have caused. Please know it is nothing compared to the shame I have brought upon myself.” She was almost finished, just one more concession. “I humbly ask your forgiveness.”
“Well done, my dear,” the marquess stated with warmth for which she would be forever grateful. “Your charming apology is accepted, and there will be no further mention of the unfortunate incident.”
When Sabrina peered in his direction, her father-in-law winked and smiled. Celia cast her a sympathetic grin, and Sabrina prayed for composure. But when Everett neared and settled a hand at the small of her back, she could not stop herself from flinching. A subtle tensing of his fingers told her he sensed her fragile state.
He pressed his lips to her temple. “Will you join us for dinner?”
Inside, her nerves were a jumbled mass, and the mere thought of food was enough to make her ill. “I beg your pardon, my lord, but I should prefer to return to my chambers.”
“Are you not hungry?” His voice was tinged with amusement--until Sabrina met his stare.
Light from the candles cast a halo over his head in her tear-filled eyes. She was going to cry, was powerless to halt the impending deluge, and hated herself for it. “No,” was all she could say.
His brow a mass of furrows, Everett compressed his lips. “Sabrina, you must be--”
“Please, let me go,” she whispered.
“I shall escort Sabrina to her suite.” Slipping an arm about her waist, he turned her from the table. “You may commence dinner without me.”
“No.” With a side step, she retreated. “I do not want to interrupt the meal anymore than I have already.” Before he could object, she scurried down the hall. When she was positive she was out of sight, Sabrina lifted her skirts and broke into a full run, heading for the safe harbor of her suite.
#
In the hallway, Everett frowned as his wife sprinted around the corner. While part of him swelled with pride because she had done the right thing, another part of him was anxious. Somehow, when Sabrina mended fences with his mother, he felt as if he had burned a bridge in their marriage.
With a wave to the footmen, he rushed through the meal. His appetite a mere memory, he operated on instinct, shoving in bites of food without tasting the fare. It seemed an eternity before dessert was served.
When Lady Celia and his mother rose from the table, his father claimed a decanter. “Port?”
“Actually, I am rather done for.” Everett faked a yawn. “I believe I shall retire early this evening.”
“Go on.” His sire grinned and chucked him on the shoulder. “She is a dear girl, that wife of yours.”
As the others filed into the drawing room, he took the stairs two at a time. Turning left, he strode down the hall, veered left again and walked into his receiving room.
Pitton, his valet, waited just inside the bedchamber. “Good evening, my lord.”
Everett shrugged out of his coat and tossed it over the back of a chair. “Pitton, I will not be needing you tonight.” He stripped his cravat from his neck. “You are dismissed.”
Everett was in the little corridor leading to his wife’s room before his valet had exited the master suite. Of course, propriety demanded he wait until his servant was no longer present to declare his intent to seduce his wife. Never had he understood the necessity for such ridiculous airs. Sabrina was his wife, so it was safe to assume Pitton knew they made love on occasion. Bloody hell, considering the enthusiastic moans of pleasure his wife emitted during coitus, the entire household had to be cognizant of their marital relations by now.
At the other end of the corridor, Everett threw open the door and walked into total darkness. Muttering a terse expletive, he retraced his steps, crossed his room, and grasped a candelabrum from the tallboy. Once again he stomped through the adjoining passage.
The pale yellow light cast shadows on the walls. In quiet, he approached the canopied bed at the center of the rear wall. Beneath the covers, Sabrina lay motionless. On purpose, he took heavy steps, hoping she might stir. Yes, only a cad would rouse her after what she had been through.
But Everett wanted Sabrina awake and alert when he told her that he lo
ved her and was proud of her. There were so many demands on his time; he wanted her to know she often occupied his thoughts, even if he had not an hour or so to dedicate solely to her.
He set the candelabrum on the side table and sat on the edge of the bed. His wife reclined on her side, her back to him. Placing a hand on her shoulder, he leaned over and pressed a gentle kiss to the crest of her ear.
“Sabrina, are you awake?”
Raking his fingers through her hair, he fanned the raven locks over her pillow. To his disappointment, she had not stirred. For a long time, Everett sat with his wife, listening to the steady sound of her breathing. Just being near her comforted him.
#
The sun had yet to peek over the horizon when Sabrina broke her fast the following morning. Dressed in a grey twill riding habit, which she chose to match her mood, not to mention the blasted mourning that seemed never-ending, she slipped into the stables, saddled a large black hunter, and headed for the meadow.
The impromptu confinement to her chambers the past few mornings had deprived her of her regular rides, and she was intent on getting an early start. As she picked the trail that would take her through the fields, along the southern edge of the woods, to the tiny chalk stream she often fished, Sabrina refused to admit she was determined to avoid her husband and his parents. She had feigned sleep when Everett entered her room the previous night. As he sifted his fingers through her hair, occasionally rubbing her scalp, she had drifted off in earnest.
And was spared further humiliation.
The first streaks of gold cut wide swaths in the black of night as she steered the hunter into the copse of oaks. The air was crisp and cool and hinted that fall was just around the corner. That meant they would soon journey to London for the Little Season, and Sabrina prayed she would be up to the task. If she were lucky, she would do nothing to bring more shame upon her husband.
But could she rely on fate?
What if she committed an error without realizing she had done so, as was the case with her unfortunate oratory in the dining room? And if she cut someone she knew not, but could not afford to insult, her husband would be ruined. She had to do something drastic else risk embarrassing Everett again.
The Most Unlikely Lady Page 20