Chapter 5
CHAPTER FIVE
S ebastian watched Eleanor eat and talk with that good-for-nothing scoundrel Luke Thornton, the Earl of Greycliff. Yet another man who had left him, and who now sought to be in Sebastian’s good books because he figured it suited him.
He swirled his wine broodingly. For all intents and purposes, the wedding had gone off without a hitch. But he felt as though he had been trapped against his will, bound to a woman whom he cared nothing for, and whose idea of a delightful time appeared to be a distinctly mediocre dinner.
Still, as he watched her, an idea occurred to him. Whenever she glanced at her stepmother, she shrank back, as though fearing cruelty. A shy thing, his new wife, and nervous around those she perceived as some kind of threat.
A timid creature like her would be easy to intimidate, no doubt. Easier still, he was sure, to convince to dislike him. Perhaps even loathe him. An unkind word or two, that was all it would take, and she would become dissatisfied in the marriage. Better still, she might even take it upon herself to annul it. If he were to keep himself from consummating the marriage, such a thing might be done with very little damage to either of them.
Well, perhaps some damage. But as he had no wish to marry anyone else at present, and he was certain that his name would carry Eleanor through any mishaps, he hardly saw any reason for concern.
Mr. Pratt had made his lamentable situation perfectly plain: he was not to end the marriage under any circumstances, or that might make it fraud and him ineligible for his inheritance. But if his wife were to independently take those steps, that would not render his agreement void. He would have fulfilled his duty; it would not be his fault that his chosen bride disliked him so much she could not bear to remain married to him.
He noted the way Eleanor’s head dipped when she spoke to her half-sister—the particularly nasty one. Isabel, perhaps? Yes, she certainly seemed timorous enough.
How fortunate that he had landed on both a wife that had not aspired to his title—thus meaning she would not feel any pang at relinquishing it to marry another—and that would submit so easily to his tormenting.
He pushed aside any qualms at the idea of frightening her enough to convince her to annul the marriage. It would not be so very difficult—a few cruelties on his end, enough unfair expectations on her as his wife, and she would be relieved to leave him. Then they could both enter a life they preferred. He would be free, and so would she.
“Your Grace?” the lady to his side asked, leaning in, her arms pressing her bosom together in a calculated, yet less-than-subtle way. “You appear deep in thought.”
Obnoxious family . He barely spared her a glance. “Indeed I am. Merely thinking how fortunate I am in my choice of bride.” He gave her a bland smile. This was the middle sister, he thought. Annalise? Annabel? Not that it mattered. “I believe it is time to leave. You must excuse me.” He pushed back his chair, and the entire room turned to look at him. Eleanor, engaged in conversation with Luke, glanced up in confusion.
“Come, wife,” he said brusquely. He may as well put his plan into action now, at least a little. Not too much in public—let them all think he was the contended groom—but enough to make her fearful of what was to come. “Jarvis, have the carriage brought around. We leave for the country at once. Is everything packed?”
His butler materialized in front of him. “Yes, Your Grace.”
“Excellent. Busy day ahead. See that we depart without delay.”
Eleanor rose immediately and did not demur, barely even pausing in order to bid her family farewell before following him from the room. Well, that was hardly to be surprised about: she evidently had little love for the remainder of her family, and no doubt she thought they would be retiring to a life of marital bliss.
Young ladies, he supposed, were all of that sentimental, romantic inclination. He could see no reason why Eleanor would be very different. Yet something in her demeanor made him wonder if she would be this submissive to him; if she would see bedsport with him as a duty to be fulfilled, or if she would take as much pleasure from it as he might. After all, their shared kiss had taught him that she was responsive, and he was quite certain that if he were to make advances, she would enjoy them. Perhaps, even, she would enjoy them the same way he did.
He found himself hardening at the thought, and shut down any further considerations on the matter. Consummation was out of the question.
She kept her hands clasped before her as she accompanied him to the carriage, and good breeding intervened enough for him to help her inside before following. A footman closed the door, and they set off, rocking slightly as the carriage took them across the cobblestones and out of the city.
He had imagined his new wife would pepper him with questions, now that they were alone at last and for more than a fleeting moment. But she merely sat with her hands folded in her lap, her gaze fixed on the passing countryside, as distant as the fields beyond the window. It was only an hour into their journey, as they approached his estate, that she raised her gaze to his and said, in a remarkably forthright way, “You know, this is the first time I have been outside London.”
He blinked. “Your father had no country estate?”
“Oh, he did, but he preferred to keep us girls, and first my mother, then Margaret—that is, the current Mrs. Bennett—elsewhere. We remained in London when he went into the country. I think my stepmother preferred it.”
Sebastian chose to give no answer, not wanting to encounter her talkativeness, even though he felt oddly surprised by the confession. Though, he supposed after meeting Mrs. Bennett, he could hardly be surprised at her preferring London, if indeed she did. He wondered if she still had access to the country estate, then banished the thought before it could take hold.
It did not matter what her life had been, or what experiences she had access to.
He maintained his silence until they finally reached Ravenscroft Manor, situated on the very outskirts of London. Close enough that from his home, he could travel easily into the capital for business. Although he had a townhouse, far more easily accessible for the Season, he preferred it at the manor house, where he felt the semblance of peace.
Or at least he had, until Eleanor had come along.
He helped her from the carriage and dropped her hand. “See to it the luggage is taken in,” he said, keeping his voice and words crisp as he strode to the house. The servants gathered outside, as was usual to greet a new lady of the house, but he waved them away. “Go back to your duties. There is no need for you to be here.”
The butler frowned. “But, Your Grace, is that not—”
“My wife? Certainly. But she does not need you to dance attendance on her.” He turned to glance at her, momentarily taken aback to find she was attempting to help the footmen with their luggage, only for them to wave her off with increasing desperation. He pinched his nose, irritated by the fact that he had not considered the response of his servants when devising his plan.
“Never mind that, Eleanor,” he called out to her, and she started, glancing at him with wide eyes as though the use of her Christian name was something to be shocked by. “Come inside now.”
She hurried to his side. “The footmen wouldn’t allow me to help.”
No, and he could hardly tell them not to bother when they had gathered outside with the singular intention of assisting him and welcoming both him and his new bride to the house. Yes, these particular footmen would be gone in a week, but if his eccentricities became too well known, he would have more difficulty hiring replacements.
“What a lovely home you have,” she said as they entered through the front door and into the large hallway. “How old is it? I feel as though there must be a wealth of history here.”
He glanced down at her head. Already, he had been far more dismissive of her than any new husband ought to be of his new wife, and she treated him as though all she wanted was to get to know him better.
Evidently, he would have to go further.
Firmly, he took her arm and brought her into the drawing room, shutting the door behind them and pressing her up against the wall. Her gaze briefly traveled about the room before returning to his face.
“Now that we’re here, I should lay down the ground rules,” he muttered, not allowing his eyes to drop to her mouth, which parted in surprise. “You may not be altogether astonished to hear that I had no desire to marry, and I have no intention of allowing a wife to interfere with my routine life.”
“How so?” she whispered.
“I prefer a wife who will be seen and not heard ,” he said, doing his best to inject a cold, cruel edge into his voice. This was not his usual mode of operation, but better he established the situation now, even if the soft press of her body against his was bringing all sorts of other thoughts to the fore.
That night, the one he had no intention of bringing up again, and the way her inexperienced, eager mouth had felt against his. Though he had tried, he had not succeeded in quite dismissing the memory of it all.
“You must not talk during dinner,” he ordered, trying to find rules that might most provoke her to rebel against him. “You will not enter the library or the study and disturb me when I am working. And you are to have no guests. Do you understand me?”
She looked up at him, her breathing elevated and her eyes shining. He felt the warmth of her breath against his skin, but he did not pull back. If he did, she might not believe him to be cruel—and it was imperative that she believed it beyond anything. The faster she believed the worst about him, the more likely it was that she would agree to a separation and annulment.
“These are my terms,” he said, taking her chin and tilting her face to his. “And you will obey me.”
Her tongue darted out across her bottom lip—and Christ, he was looking at her mouth. His fingers tightened on her chin, and her nostrils flared. “And if I do not, Your Grace?”
“Then I will make sure to punish you,” he growled. Her eyes widened. Finally. Believe that I am a brute. Hate me. Despise me. Yearn to live a life apart from me . “You will wish every day that you had not married me.”
“I—” She frowned. “You wish to spend no time with me?”
Be cruel . “Am I under any obligation to?” He released her chin and folded his arms, resting his shoulder against the door. “I made a promise that I would marry one of your father’s daughters—I have done so. My duty is complete. Now, do you understand the position you are in?”
“If my stepmother asks to visit, you will refuse her?”
He paused, surprised that she would ask the question. Of everyone he had thought she might wish to receive, her stepmother—that cruel woman—had not occurred to him as one of them. Then again, what did he know about the workings of a female mind? “I will refuse her,” he clamped. “No one connected to you may step foot in this house.”
“I see,” she said slowly, then nodded. “I understand.”
“You—” He scowled. At the very least, he had expected a modicum of weeping or a ploy to tug at his nonexistent heartstrings. He had assumed that she would be particularly displeased at the thought of having nothing and no one to speak to.
Perhaps he needed to go a step further.
What else could he do that might strike her as cruel? Something, moreover, that he would allow himself to do. There were some things that even a cad like him would not contemplate.
Eleanor met his gaze with a quizzical look of her own, her eyes appearing more gray than blue in the light. He noted the freckles across her nose and wished he had not. The first time he had seen her, in the mask, he had not known much about her face, save for the lushness of her full lips. Now, he knew far more than was good for him—the rosy glow that infused her cheeks when she looked at him; the delicate arch to her brows as she waited for him to speak.
When he had kissed her at the masquerade, his body had responded in a way it rarely did, especially with innocents like her. He hardly knew what had possessed him to kiss her then; seducing young ladies of virtue was not his usual play.
Yet he had. And now he had to live with the memory of what kissing his new wife felt like—and he would have to resist the urge to do it again.
Despite his best intentions, his gaze dropped to her mouth, which opened in surprise. Her lips appeared as a torment, a temptation he could not wholly deny. And, confound him, he wanted nothing more than to kiss her again. Even knowing, as he did, that he would need to chase her away—and that he could not consummate the marriage if he wished for it to be annulled.
Just then, something moved on her chest. A lump that traveled across her shoulder and down her arm, emerging at her elbow with a tiny pink nose and whiskers. Horrified, Sebastian leaped back, and Eleanor— damn her —laughed.
“What the devil is that?” he demanded.
“This is Scrunch , my pet mouse.”
Sebastian’s elbow caught the vase behind him and it wobbled on its pedestal. He turned, catching it with difficulty. Eleanor let out a tiny giggle, then clapped a hand over her mouth, as though she knew what a dangerous path she walked.
“What did you mean by bringing that thing to my house?” he snapped.
“I could hardly leave him behind.”
“What lady carries a mouse on her person!”
She curtsied. “The one you see before you.”
He pinched his nose. “Get out of my sight, or I will set the cats upon that mouse of yours. Ask the housekeeper for a tour of the house. She will show you to your rooms. Do not disturb me. Do not allow your pet to escape, or I will not be responsible for my actions. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Your Grace.”
“And Eleanor?” He held her gaze as she turned to leave the room. “Do not try my patience. I can make life very unpleasant for you.”
Instead of cowing at the threat, as he had imagined, she merely inclined her head. “I have no doubt, Your Grace,” she said, but when she exited the room, she left behind the lingering sensation that she did not mean the things she said.
If he was going to scare her away from this marriage, he would have to do something more than he could ever have imagined here.