Chapter 10
CHAPTER TEN
“… a
nd then she told the staff that she does not like pork and asked that all meals be cooked without it from now on. Can you believe it?” Christopher scoffed and took a deep sip of his brandy.
“The horror!” Theodore cried mockingly.
“Why does she not like pork?” Alistair asked.
Christopher groaned. “The point is not the pork, Alistair. It is my wife and her insistence on sticking her nose into everything.”
“Like what to have for dinner?” Alistair asked, sounding like he was genuinely curious, not at all understanding why Christopher was acting so irate.
“Everything!” Christopher exclaimed. “She has adjusted the schedules of the staff. She has had rooms redecorated. She is…” He shuddered. “Changing things. Things that do not need to be changed.”
What he did not tell them about were the taxation ledgers that Rose had correctly fixed for him. No need for his friends to know about that. He did have a reputation to consider, after all.
Theodore snorted. “I think you need help, man.”
“I am being serious!”
“So am I,” Theodore said.
“I knew that married life would bring with it changes.” Christopher swallowed the final mouthful of brandy and stalked across the drawing room where the liquor cabinet sat. “I am not such a fool as not to realize that. I just failed to understand how many changes there would be.”
“Some say change is a good thing.” Alistair sat on the couch by the fire, one leg up casually.
“Some say mixing water and scotch together is a good thing,” Christopher said bitterly as he poured another drink.
“Just tell her to stop,” Theodore shrugged and threw back the rest of his drink. “Put your damn foot down.”
Christopher glowered silently, knowing the advice was sound enough, while knowing that it was unlikely to work.
His wife was not like other women. Was this the sister, Christopher had no doubt that she would do as she was told and happily avoid angering him by keeping her head down and out of sight. She would have been a damn perfect wife.
Rosalind was another matter entirely.
Christopher had pictured what might happen if he were to go to her and tell her in no uncertain terms that the changes she made were to be undone. That she was not to do anything without his permission first.
They would argue if he tried that. He would lose his temper. Then he would feel awful, he would have to apologize, and yet another side of himself that he did not wish to reveal would be shown.
No, better to say nothing and hope that she does not go much further. Surely, she will grow bored soon? Surely, once she gets it out of her system, things will calm down?
“We spoke already,” Christopher dismissed. “I am sure that will be enough.”
Theodore was leaning against the side wall, just near the fire, so the flames reflected in his eyes and the white of his teeth. “Ah, yes, because wives are famous for listening to common sense. Especially one as silly as your wife is.”
Christopher stiffened at the insult, and before he could stop himself, he was glaring at his best friend. “I will remind you, Theodore, that is still my wife you are speaking of.”
Theodore’s face dropped. “What? Christopher, I was just –”
“I know what you were doing, and I suggest you don’t do it again, lest you say things that cannot be taken back.” He made sure to look right at Theodore. “Rose is my wife, and I would expect you to remember that when you speak of her.”
“Sorry, Christopher,” He laughed nervously. “I did not mean it.”
Christopher made sure to hold that glare on him a moment longer before turning away, at which point he cursed himself silently because that was not very well played out.
Despite his efforts, Christopher was unable to block out and ignore the pesky feelings that he was developing for his wife.
He wanted to feel nothing for her. He wanted to forget that she existed entirely.
But she was always there, niggling at the edges of his conscience, and he couldn’t explain why, and he didn’t know what to do about it.
“Enough of that,” Christopher cleared his throat and laughed, a means to lessen the tension in the room. “Alistair, you were telling us of ah, what is her name again? Miss Emily Pierce?”
“Oh yes,” Alistair’s eyes lit up, and he launched into a tale of his latest courtship.
Christopher smiled as he listened, laughed when he needed to, and sighed to see the mood in the room return. He needed to do better than he had just done. He needed to be calm and dispassionate always. Things were just simpler that way.
Most of all, I need to stop thinking about Rose. Which should not be too difficult, seeing as she is as set on avoiding me as I am on her.
It was as those words drifted through his mind that a knock sounded at the door.
Christopher started at the sound.
The door slowly creaked open. “I am sorry to disturb you, gentlemen, but I was asked after?”
Rose stood awkwardly in the doorway, appearing as confused by the situation as Christopher was.
The first thing Christopher noticed, again, was how unwell Rose looked.
This time, it was even worse than before.
Her skin was a dull shade of grey, her eyes were sunken, and she seemed to sway where she stood.
Whatever was wrong with her was having an equal effect on her confidence, and she didn’t present herself with the usual sense of self that Christopher was becoming accustomed to.
Is this my fault? It started when I left and has gotten worse since I returned. Is she starving herself to protest this marriage? Or is it just a natural effect of being forced to be around me?
Guilt flooded Christopher, and he could hardly bring himself to look at her.
“Ah, yes!” Theodore crossed the room, arms held wide. “Her Grace, we finally meet.” He reached Rose and took her hand, kissing the back of it. “Forgive me, but I was the one who sent for you.”
“Oh,” She blinked, glanced at Christopher, and looked away. “You were? Why?”
“I wanted to meet you,” he said innocently. “We did not get a chance at the wedding.”
“Theodore,” Christopher groaned. So much for avoiding his wife. “I am sure that Rose has better things to be doing with her time than wasting it on you.”
“I doubt that,” Theodore laughed. “Well, Your Grace? Does your husband speak the truth? Or is there time for a little friendly conversation? I am positively dying to learn more about you.”
“I am not,” She bit her lip and looked from Theodore to Christopher. He widened his eyes, suggesting that she should say no. An error, he realized immediately, because her stare hardened instantly. “I would be honored for the chance.”
“Wonderful!”
Rose smiled pleasantly as she walked into the room, led by Theodore, who guided her toward the couch by the fire. Christopher glared at his friends, and his wife, too, for that matter.
This is fine. Just don’t say or do anything that might upset her. Control your damn self, Christopher!
“So, tell us about yourself,” Alistair began as he rose from the couch and beckoned Rose to sit. “We hear that you have been settling in nicely.”
“Is that right?” She looked at Christopher, raised an eyebrow at him, and sat down.
“Something to that effect,” Theodore chuckled.
Christopher might have scowled in warning at his two friends; he knew they were doing this to play with him, just as he knew he could not let them get their way and see him break.
Before he got the chance to do that, Christopher was again distracted by his wife’s physical state.
It was her eyes that he focused on, how sunken they were, the dark bags that sat heavy under them. She just looked so tired and worn out, as if she had not slept in days.
Something was clearly wrong with her.
“We hear you are doing wonderful things with the staff,” Theodore started as he sat on the arm of the couch. “Might I ask, why the changes?”
Rose smirked and looked for Christopher again. “It is no great thing. I simply noticed how disordered the schedule was.”
“That is not true,” Christopher said before he could stop himself.
“It is,” she said. “On paper, it appeared adequate. But once I spoke to each member of the staff, and learned more about them on a personal level, I came to realize that they were not being properly utilized.”
Christopher glared at her, but forced a smile when he saw Theodore watching him.
“Fascinating,” Alistair said as if it were the most interesting thing he had ever heard.
“It is not so much,” Christopher muttered, slightly annoyed that his friends agreed with her.
“Oh?” Rose perked up. “I wonder, did you have a chance to look over the taxation ledgers?”
“What taxation ledgers?” Theodore perked up. “Christopher, what is she talking about?”
Christopher looked flatly at his wife, and she beamed in response.
“It seems that I made a few small errors in some calculations regarding a new taxation policy I plan on enacting with some of my tenants,” Christopher said dismissively, trying his best to make it not appear as big a deal as it was. “And Rosalind was kind enough to correct them for me.”
“Truly?” Theodore laughed. “Christopher, that is not like you.”
He shrugged. “Mistakes happen. It is not as big a deal as —”
“It is lucky your wife was there to save you,” Alistair agreed.
“She did well,” Christopher agreed. “But I am sure that if I were to check them later, then I would have noticed –”
“But you did not,” Theodore cut over him. “Did you?”
“Oh, I am certain he would have,” Rose agreed with pure delight. “Besides, was it not for my husband doing all the hard work in the beginning, I could not have possibly swept in at the end and saved the day, as I did. Teamwork.” She smiled smugly at Christophr.
“And she is humble,” Theodore chuckled. “Where did you find this one, Christopher?”
“I guess I just got lucky.” He looked warningly at his wife, not appreciating that she saw the need to point out his mistakes. And with such smugness. “That she saw the need to poke her nose in without me even having to ask.”
She continued to smile. “Any time, husband. Any time.”
“Perhaps a celebratory drink?” Theodore was up from the arm of the couch and hurrying toward the liquor cabinet. “Your Grace, might I fetch you a drink? Some wine perhaps? And then you can tell further of how you saved poor Christopher from embarrassment.”
“That would be –” Rose started coughing. They were thick, phlegm-filled coughs, and each time she let one free, her neck muscles tensed, and her body shook as if it might break apart. “That would be lovely,” she managed thickly.
She is even more sick than I realized.
“I think my wife will be fine without the wine,” Christopher said to Theodore, indicating for him to put the wine down.
Theodore was halfway through pouring her a glass when he turned. “What was that?”
“I said, I think my wife will be fine without –”
“I would very much like a glass,” she said over him. “Thank you.”
“And I said, she does not.” Christopher stepped closer. “Theodore, put the bottle down.” He glared in warning at his friend. “Now.”
Theodore enjoyed pushing Christopher, but he also knew when to stop. He grimaced an apology to Rose and put the bottle down. “As you say.”
“Rose,” Christopher turned toward his wife, thinking to explain himself, while seeing immediately how furious she was. “There is clearly something wrong –”
“I will be going now.” She stood up abruptly and crossed the room. “I am sorry to have disturbed you.”
“Don’t leave!” Theodore called after her.
“Yes, stay,” Alistair agreed.
“It is quite all right.” She reached the doorway and looked back, sure to cast her husband in a glare as cold as ice. “I have things I need to do. Changes that I need to— need to—” Another fit of coughing, and Christopher winced to hear it.
“Good day.” She swept through the doorway.
For a moment, it was just the sounds of her footsteps echoing down the hall, and each one struck Christopher like a slap across the face.
He had not meant to upset her like that. Ironically, he had thought that he was doing the right thing.
Even if that was the case, there was no way that she would have thought as much. Until now, Christopher had given her no reason to think that he cared about her well-being in the slightest. So, why would she assume he was helping her?
No reason at all. As far as she is aware, I loathe and want nothing to do with her. She has every reason to hate me.
“That was not very well done,” Theodore sighed.
“Truly, Christopher, that was no way to speak to your wife,” Alistair agreed. “And why? Because she saved your neck? You should be thanking her, not scorning the poor thing.”
To this, Christopher said nothing, because he agreed.
It was easy to say that he wanted to ignore his wife and pretend that she did not exist. To do it was that much harder.
She was his wife; this arrangement was for life, and things could not go on as they were. What was more, Christopher did not want them to. He could not say exactly what he wanted, only that he didn’t want it to continue as it was.
That, at least, was something that he could change.