A Marriage Of Rogues. Margaret Moore

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СКАЧАТЬ sure she had made a terrible first impression. She had been too tense, too anxious, too stiff and unyielding. But she’d also been too aware of the strange nature of their marriage as well as her lack of beauty and fine clothes to be more herself.

      Develin’s attitude hadn’t been helpful, either. He’d been cold and formal, then deserted her.

      Yet she couldn’t lay the blame for her unfortunate first impression at his door. It was her fault, so it was up to her to try to undo any damage her manner had caused.

      “It must be even more shocking that he came home with a wife,” she offered, speaking in her usual tone.

      The housekeeper blushed. “Unexpected, to be sure, but he’s always been an impulsive fellow. His father used to chide him for his heedless ways.”

      Thea remembered the portrait of that stern man in the study and wondered what it would have been like to be chided by him—surely far from pleasant.

      “I can be rather impulsive, too,” she said, “although I more often take time to consider.”

      “Do you, now?” Mrs. Wessex murmured as she opened the door to the lady’s bedroom and moved back to let Thea enter first.

      She stepped into the bedroom of her dreams.

      Tall windows provided ample light and a canopied bed dressed with light green silk coverlet stood against one wall papered with twining leaves. Across from the bed was a fireplace with a marble front, carved with vines and plump little cherubs. A looking glass rested in one corner, and a delicate dressing table boasting another mirror was against the other wall. Silver candleholders rested on the two bedside tables.

      “Oh, it’s lovely!” she cried, clasping her hands as if offering a prayer of thanks, which wasn’t far from the truth.

      “I’ll leave you to rest, my lady, and I’ll send Ella to help you dress for dinner,” Mrs. Wessex said.

      “I can manage for myself,” Thea said, wanting more than anything to be alone. So much had happened today and in the few days before that...and then she saw the furrowed brow of the housekeeper. “Until Ella arrives,” she hastily added.

      Mrs. Wessex gave her a very small smile, nodded and left her.

      Alone at last, Thea wandered around the lovely chamber. This was also what she’d dreamed of when she decided to ask Develin Dundrake to marry her—a beautiful home, evidence of a new and prosperous future. She need no longer dread that she would be all alone in the world, poor, cold and starving, with no home and no family, no husband, no children.

      But what of love, Thea? a little voice inside her queried. Don’t you want to be loved?

      Surely love would come, too, if not from her husband, at least from her children.

      * * *

      Thea didn’t see Develin again until he joined her in the drawing room before dinner that evening.

      She had ignored Ella’s shocked expression when the maid discovered Thea had only three dresses to her name, and the one she wore now, of plain blue taffeta, was the finest. The youthful maid had hesitatingly offered the information that there was an excellent dressmaker in the village, as well as a milliner. Thea had thanked her and silently vowed she would visit them as soon as possible.

      Upon entering the drawing room, whose glories she had only glimpsed earlier that day, she’d managed to avoid gawking like a stunned peasant. She had never seen so much gilt furniture richly upholstered in blue velvet, or so many delicate figurines as those on the mantle, not to mention the silver sconces and candelabra and the very fine pianoforte in an alcove.

      She’d wondered if her husband would expect her to play. If so, he would be disappointed. She’d only begun her musical education when the family funds started to be depleted, and her music lessons had been one of the first economies.

      Although she’d waited with growing impatience for her husband to appear, she hadn’t chided him when he finally arrived to escort her in to dinner. Nor had she pestered him with questions or forced him to make conversation as the meal progressed. After all—and so she fervently hoped—he might not be annoyed with her. He might simply be a quiet man.

      And what a meal it was! There was a lovely cream of mushroom soup, followed by breaded haddock, then roast beef and chicken with peas and carrots in a thick sauce. The dinner ended with three kinds of pie, a cake and other confectionaries arranged on a tiered plate. There was also ample wine, although she was very careful not to drink too much. She was unused to fine wine and wanted to keep her wits about her. She had made enough mistakes already today.

      At last the meal ended, and she retired to the drawing room again, alone. She perched on a gilt chair near the ornate marble fireplace where a fire warmed the room. After a time, Mrs. Wessex arrived, as well as Ella bearing a tea tray. The silver service gleamed in the firelight, and more delicate cakes and sweets were on a pretty china plate beside it.

      “Shall I pour, my lady?” the older woman deferentially inquired.

      “No, thank you,” Thea replied, determined to prove she wasn’t completely ignorant about such things.

      She didn’t get the chance. The housekeeper simply nodded and she and Ella left the room.

      With a heavy sigh, Thea poured a cup of tea and sipped it while she waited. And waited some more.

      Just when she had decided Develin wasn’t going to join her, he strolled into the room as if no time at all had passed since dinner. Or as if she was of no importance whatsoever.

      “I was about to give you up for lost,” she said, trying not to sound irate or frustrated, although she was both. “The tea is probably cold. Shall I ring for more?”

      “No, I don’t want any tea,” her husband replied. He walked past her and leaned against the mantelpiece, his forearm casually draped across it and all the while regarding her with an enigmatic expression.

      “That was a very sumptuous meal,” she said at last.

      Still no response.

      “Do you usually have such meals? It seemed quite extravagant.”

      “I’m quite rich.”

      She would not continue this uphill struggle to have a conversation. If he was upset with her, she would rather find out. He did have some cause to be annoyed—but then, so did she.

      She rose and faced him squarely. “I appreciate that I may not have acted as you might have wished when we arrived here today.”

      He lowered his arm and raised an eyebrow, but did no more than that.

      Even if he was going to persist with his silence, she would admit the truth, at least about her feelings that day. “I was afraid.”

      “Afraid? You were afraid?” he repeated, as if that was hardly to be believed. “Of my servants?”

      “Not precisely. But I...that is, this house...” Annoyed with herself for being so incoherent, she began again. “This house is so large and there are so many servants, I was afraid of making a mistake, or saying the wrong thing. Instead I may have appeared СКАЧАТЬ