Chapter 12
CHAPTER TWELVE
Sebastian returned home when the sun was long up and the fog banished, as so often happened with the heat of the day.
The entire way, he waited to see if he would find Aurelia’s wandering figure, but when he returned to the manor, it was to the relieving information that she had returned hours earlier.
He also received the disconcerting news that she had, once again, taken it upon herself to make changes to the layout of his house. An oversight that would not have been so alarming or off-putting if he had any intention of letting her stay there.
As it was, it appeared she was going to turn his home upside down only for her to depart. And he would have to live in her mess.
He despised the thought.
Until she’d come along, he had contrived such a neat, orderly existence. Who would have known having a wife would cause so much disturbance?
He found her in the drawing room, directing the footmen to measure the space. When she sighted him, her expression widened into a perfectly innocent smile.
It was as though she had not been present at their last encounter. Incredible, really, because he couldn’t keep from playing it over and over in his head. The way her crystal blue eyes had widened and darkened—but not with fear.
She had wanted him with his hands on her throat.
And what he had seen reflected back had been desire.
And hell, if that hadn’t made him ache for her in whole new ways, too.
He’d had to leave then because he’d already lost control with her once, and he couldn’t risk doing so again. Knowing that about her made it even harder to keep his distance.
Especially now, when she beamed at him as though he hadn’t just threatened her with sizzling blood boiling deep in his veins.
What had he been thinking, anyway? What a foolish way to go about it.
The rumors were there for a reason—it was his fault Kate had died.
So he couldn’t deny it, at least not overtly, but he would never, never have raised a hand against her.
None of it absolved him of guilt. Not how much he loved her, nor how much he grieved her loss.
Her death was his fault. And now, Aurelia all but knew.
But even though that was undeniable, she still looked at him without fear. With enthusiasm, even.
He felt as though he would never understand this stubborn sprite.
“What are you doing?” he demanded, determined to keep the conversation as brief as humanly possible. All he needed to do was inform her that she needed to stop changing his home to better suit her tastes.
Aurelia greeted his scowl with a bright little smile.
“The furniture in the drawing room was dreadfully old, so I ordered something new. Naturally, I had to measure the room first.” She twirled a hand toward the footmen like a tiny general commanding troops.
“And we need a better color scheme. New drapes, fresh fabrics. I’ll ask who the Duchess of Fenwick uses for her refurbishments.
Horrid woman, yes, but her taste is undeniable. ”
The very last thing Sebastian wanted was for any part of his home to resemble any part of the Duchess of Fenwick’s. She was nothing more than a nasty gossip and an authoritarian bully.
“Absolutely not,” he shut the very idea down. “What is more, you should not be making unilateral decisions without me.”
She put her hands on her hips. “Sebastian. Do you expect me to live here and shiver away in some corner like a frightened mouse? In marrying me, you made this my home, too.”
His eyes narrowed, and he did his utmost best to forget the desire that had once darkened her eyes. By God, he wanted her more than was sensible.
Before he took her, he needed to find some perspective. If he did so now, so over-eager, so consumed by thoughts of her—
He gritted his teeth, practically growling in his frustration. The next time he required a wife, he would interview the candidates personally and ensure none were too prepossessing or charming.
There will be no next time.
And wanting her was deeply inconvenient.
“You forget that I am your husband, and thus, I am your master. This house is mine, and if you make alterations to it, you do so at my discretion. Whatever you choose to do is permitted by me, and that is final.”
Finally, her smile slipped, and she looked at him as though she had never seen him before.
Perhaps she was finally getting over her ridiculous idea that life with him was made of lavender and roses.
There was no reason for her to be so happy in her life with him—it would be better for them both if she cordially disliked him.
That way, she would stop trying to make a life here, and she would be relieved when he sent her away.
And he could do so free from guilt.
“I… see,” she said, her voice flat. “And that is to be the end of it, is it?”
“It is.”
“You married me, but have no intention of letting me be your wife in any way other than in name?”
He smiled, but it was garish on his face—a caricature of what he intended it to be. “Well, not entirely. There is another way, my dear.”
“Of course.” Her expression went blank, and she turned to the footmen, who were equally expressionless. No doubt new stories of his cruelty would reach the village by means of the servants; he had brought them all here from elsewhere, but servants gossiped.
That was how the rumors of Kate’s death—and the reason behind it—had spread, after all. The servants had first spread the news, and the rumors had grown from there. Gossip was a graceless, endless beast. So long as people had voices, it would keep being fed.
But what did it matter?
“Thank you for your time,” she said to the footman. Gregory, Sebastian thought his name was. “But it seems your services will not be needed.”
“Very good, Your Grace,” Gregory—or perhaps it was Daniel—sent Sebastian a single expressionless glance before exiting the room, leaving them alone. For a moment, Sebastian wondered if the man had been reluctant to leave his own wife alone with him, as though he would do her harm.
Not that he had to worry. Aurelia immediately made her way to the door.
“It seems we have nothing more to discuss,” she muttered, her head held high. He could say that much for her: she had pride, and she would not let him crush it. “Goodbye, Sebastian.”
He had done the right thing for his aims. For them both, even if she didn’t know it yet.
So why was it he felt so hollow inside?
Aurelia returned to her rooms, her skin oddly itchy underneath her clothes. This was not the pleasant, heated feeling that had come from kissing Sebastian, although she couldn’t deny she was hit.
When she’d returned from her walk, damp to the bone despite his coat, she had immediately changed and thought that was the end of it—but when she glanced in the mirror, she saw two hectic spots of color on her cheeks.
“Oh, dear me,” Jane gasped when she entered her chambers and saw Aurelia’s sorry state, her hair still half tumbling from its pins, and her dress half off—she’d attempted to remove it so she could at least cool down.
Her skin felt so very warm, and she wished no one had lit a fire.
Of course, this time of year, such things were expected, but it was distinctly unwelcome.
She kneaded her eyes. “I feel a little unwell,” Aurelia murmured.
“Well of course you do, Your Grace, when you’re running a fever.
You are burning up! Now, there’s no way you should be going to dinner, and so I’ll be telling that snooty butler of His Grace, and that’s a fact.
” A line creased Jane’s brows; for all her chatter, she really was worried, and that was what prompted Aurelia to allow her maid to guide her to the bed, where she lay back against the pillows with a sigh.
“I wanted to attend dinner,” she breathed. “To show the duke.”
Jane deftly unlaced her. “To show him what, Your Grace?”
“That I won’t be cowed.” Her voice dropped to a mumble, and she scrubbed at her forehead, wishing she could find the words to express what she meant.
In the drawing room, all her thoughts had been so crystal-clear in her head, but now all her feelings felt so jumbled. He had acted so confusingly toward her, and she was determined to let him know she wouldn’t stand for it.
How could she do that if she were abed?
It wouldn’t do.
“I’ll rest awhile,” she whispered. “Just until dinner. And then I’ll attend. I’ll tell him all the things I need to say.” When he had laid down the law in that autocratic way, she had been so shocked, she hadn’t been able to formulate a response.
And how crass to suggest that they would not be married in name only because he intended to bed her!
Well, he would find himself sorely disappointed. She had even awoken excited to give him that privilege—but he no longer deserved it.
“Now then,” Jane began kindly, sliding a silken nightgown over her head. It moved so pleasantly against her damp, overheated skin that Aurelia didn’t think to question it. “We’ll see how you’re feeling later, Your Grace. It’s my belief that you won’t be feeling up to seeing His Grace immediately.”
“I will,” Aurelia insisted.
Jane fetched a cold cloth, dipping it into the copper bowl on the dressing table, then laid it across Aurelia’s burning forehead. The chilliness over the heat made her teeth chatter. “You have a fever, Your Grace.”
“It’ll pass.”
The maid made a dismissive noise, but Aurelia ignored her. She would not be bested by this. When it came time for dinner, she would rise, and she would give Sebastian a piece of her mind!
“I can’t let him win…” she chattered.
Jane patted her hand. “Of course not.”
“He thinks he rules the roost, but I won’t answer to him as my master. He doesn’t pay my wages; I am a duchess.”
“That you are, Your Grace.”
“And I won’t. I won’t.” Her head spun, everything ached, and she tossed and turned against the pillow as Jane piled more wood on the fire. “Don’t. It’s so warm.”
“I think it will freeze tonight,” was all she heard.
“Wake me in time for dinner, please.” Aurelia’s hand shot out. Jane was as much of a stranger here as she was, and she felt an odd need to protect her maid. “Are they treating you well downstairs?”
“As well as can be expected, ma’am. Don’t you worry about me, if you please.” Jane smiled down at her, taking one of Aurelia’s hands in her own. “I’ll stay with you, never you fear.”
“And you’ll wake me?”
“If you are capable of being woken, Your Grace.”