CHAPTER SEVEN #3
All at once she burst out, as if she had to speak. “I want you to be yourself! I hate it when you retire into your shell. I had rather you railed at me, or threw at me your bitterest acrimony. Anything — other than treating me with this civil indifference. I know it to be a lie.”
He looked away. What would she say if he told her that it was the only way he could induce himself to keep his hands off her? Recoil, belike. If she did not, and he gave in to temptation, the very touch of her would drive him into unwise accusation. Unwise, and unfair.
“Accept my apologies,” he said as gently as he could. “I will try to do better.”
She looked defeated, infinitely vulnerable, become again the waif he had married. Inwardly he cursed, and rose, crossing to the window so that he need not see her. He spoke without turning round.
“You may have more need of funds than you know. We cannot forever avoid meeting with our neighbours, and you must prepare for it. They will soon be returning from London for the winter break. We will have to put up some kind of show together, for the sake of appearances.”
He turned on the words, and saw, with a sense of shock, that Rosina was looking deathly pale, the coal-black eyes regarding him with stunned surprise. Her lip was quivering, and her hands were so tightly clasped together in her lap that the knuckles jutted out white. Concern gripped him.
“What is the matter?”
“You said I should live retired.”
“Yes, but I did not mean without any sort of intercourse.”
“There was to be no social life.”
“That is quite impossible. A man of my rank cannot live as a hermit, especially not in the country.” He came a step or two towards her.
“It will not be so very bad, Rosina. There are, unfortunately, few peers in this immediate vicinity, which means that I cannot help but attract the interest of the gentry hereabouts. Furthermore, I have put a notice of our marriage in the Gazette, and —”
“Dear Lord, the Gazette!”
“It is usual, you know,” he said, puzzled now. “I regret the necessity, but it had to be done.”
“Why had it to be done? Why must anyone know of it?” She sounded frantic, a rise of panic in her voice.
“What the devil is the matter, Rosina? What objection can you have to be seen to be my wife?”
“It is not that.” Her tone was tetchy now.
“Then why should you care?”
She was up, pacing the room. Raith watched her, tweaking at her fingertips one moment, the next throwing her hands to her face in another of her unquiet gestures. In growing alarm, he wondered at her thoughts.
They were frantic. Suppose her guardian were to read of it?
Dared she hope he would not make trouble?
And what — Lord help her! — what of that other dread creature?
If he did not see the announcement for himself, he was bound to hear of it, for he moved in circles where gossip was ever rife.
What if he spoke of it? Heavens, she might meet with his acquaintances!
Herbert Cambois was not his only gaming crony.
He was of this county, though in the northernmost part.
She had naively thought it a sufficient distance from here.
“They were bound to know of it sooner or later,” she muttered. “But later, please God! I had not thought the mischief would be out this early.”
Halting, she turned on her husband, and found him regarding her with a heavy frown. Of suspicion? Well might he think her behaviour deserving of it. But that was past mending. This was a disastrous turn.
“Who will come here? Who is it you expect?”
“My immediate neighbours. There may be others from further afield. The curious are bound to wish to meet you.”
“You knew this! And you never warned me. I asked you what you expected of me, and you would not say.”
“I said, if you recall, that we would have to work it out as time went on.”
It was true, Rosina conceded, but it did not help. “This is not what I bargained for.”
“What did you bargain for, Rosina? You have spoken of protection. Who is it you fear?”
“No one.” She whisked about, pacing rapidly away from him, pulling at her fingers.
Yes, she had entered into this marriage for protection.
Once securely a wife, she knew neither Herbert Cambois or his odious friend could physically touch her.
But that did not mean they could not harm her.
Or, which was worse, her husband. To be seen was to be known.
At the least, if they knew of her whereabouts it was bound to lead to unpleasantness.
What could she say without giving all away?
“It is only that I did not wish for such a life.” It was lame, but what would you? “Had I known of it, I should not have married you. I do not wish to be obliged to indulge in that sort of social interaction.”
Raith curbed his impatience with difficulty. Better to reassure her, than demand enlightenment. She was clearly too afraid to give him any rational answer.
“I am sorry if the necessity upsets you. I have no more wish than you to engage in social activities. But the surest way to invite excessive interest is to try to avoid such contacts. If we accept social intercourse, but do not ourselves initiate it, we will soon be classed as dullards, and people will be glad to leave us alone.”
Rosina checked, a set look in her face. “By then, the damage will have been done.”
Suspicion laced through him. “What damage? What do you mean by that?”
She stared at him, eyes dilating. Her voice came out flat, but he could hear its tremor.
“Lord Raith, it was ag-greed that I should live r-retired upon your estates. And that is what I intend to d-do. I shall engage in no s-social intercourse. If anyone p-presents themselves here, I shall r-refuse to see them.”
“Oh, indeed? Then, by thunder, Lady Raith, you have much to learn of me! You will do precisely what I tell you.”
The bravado collapsed. She threw her hands over her face. “I cannot, Raith, I cannot!”
Caution vanished. He crossed the room, and seized her hands, pulling them down. “Why, Rosina? Tell me why!”
“I cannot! There is no other reason.”
“No other? You have given me no reason at all.” He took her by the shoulders and held her, lightly enough, but preventing her escape. “Rosina, I will not be denied in this. What happened to you? What skeletons have you in that closet of yours?”
“None.” She sounded frantic now, pushing unavailingly at his hold. “You have more skeletons than I!”
“Don’t try to fob me off! I will find you out.” She struggled, but he held firm.
“Let me go! You will tell me nothing of yourself, yet you expect me to give up my secrets.”
Raith pounced on this, releasing her. “So there is something! I knew it.” He gentled his tone. “Tell me, pray.”
It had no effect, though at least she did not run. “You are mistaken. There is nothing to know.”
“Come, Rosina, who is it who frightened you so? Believe me, I am no fool. What is the explanation for your upset in your bedchamber the other night? The man, Rosina. Who was he?”
She gave a gasp, and went still, her gaze catching on his. “What did you say?”
“You had some sort of encounter, did you not? What man was involved?”
Rosina backed away, looking up at him with sudden fierceness in her black eyes. “How — involved?”
Raith paused. That had been foolish. He wanted to pursue the subject, but the change in her dictated caution.
More in that strain, and he would alienate her utterly.
He felt his breath release and only now realised he had been holding it in, along with the raw need within him. His voice came out ragged.
“I meant nothing untoward. Not on your part.”