Her Secondhand Groom(23)

“How about a new wardrobe?” he offered. He strode over to stand beside her. Perhaps he’d be able to charm her better if he were closer to her.

“I can wear what I have, thank you.”

He grimaced. He’d only seen her twice before their wedding, but both times she’d worn something he wouldn’t even allow his lowest maid to wear. “You’re getting the wardrobe.”

Her eyes burned into his. “I don’t want it.”

“I don’t care, you’re getting it. I’ll not have my wife go around in rags.”

If it were possible, she looked even angrier. “Short of you holding me down and dressing me, which I highly doubt you’d trouble yourself to do, I’ll wear whatever I like, thank you.”

He leaned his face in close to hers, so close in fact, there couldn’t have been more than in inch between them. “You truly don’t think I’d do such a thing?”

“No, I don’t,” she said, the only thing giving away her unease at his closeness was the slight hitch in her words.

“Try it,” he countered, his determined eyes locking with her wide, apprehensive ones.

“You’d like that far too much.”

Patrick shook his head. Despite what she thought, he wouldn’t like to do that at all. But he would if she didn’t dress her part. “I’ll contact Mrs. Somers tomorrow about commissioning a new wardrobe for you. What else would you like?”

Cold eyes and flaring nostrils was her only response. Oh, and perhaps a bit of steam he imagined emanating from her ears and nose.

“Well, if you’re not going to name your price, I guess you don’t want anything,” he said. She’d better realize this was her last chance to squeeze anything out of him.

Once again, she said nothing.

“All right, then. I suppose you’d like a bit of time by yourself to get acquainted with your new home,” he stated. It didn’t take a genius to know she’d refuse his offer if he suggested he show her about. “I’ll see you tonight at dinner.”

Forcing his eyes to avoid looking at her, and commanding his guilt over his poor treatment of her to vanish, Patrick quit the room





Chapter 8





Juliet had never been so angry in her whole life. And she wouldn’t be fooling anybody if she didn’t admit it was entirely her fault. If only she’d not been so intent on seeing him get what he deserved for attempting to snare her sister that way, this all could have been avoided.

She exited the drawing room and walked down the hall in search of Links, the butler. She’d need his help to navigate this maze that she might truly have to accept as her new home.

Links was a tall, thin, grey-headed man, the epitome of an English butler. Just from the brief statements the two had exchanged, it was clear he was a man of few words. That suited her just fine. She had no interest in having a conversation right now. All she wanted to do was be shown to her room.

And that’s exactly where he took her, straight to her room. Straight to her empty, dusty, and dare she say a wee bit musty room. Without much thought or emotion, she walked around to inspect the massive oak furniture positioned around the room.

The day before, she’d packed up a few of her possessions to appease her mother who was in a dander that the task had yet to be done. Without much thought or care, Juliet selected some of her clothes and personal items and put them in a trunk to be delivered to Briar Creek. Good thing she actually put enough in that trunk to make due until she could either get Lord Presumptuous to agree to an annulment, or at the very least, have someone retrieve the remainder of her items from her parents’ cottage.

She sighed and plopped down on her bed. Never before had her daring streak led her into anything close to this amount of trouble. All she had wanted to do was teach Lord Presumptuous a lesson and instead she had ended up his wife! With an uncomfortable swallow, she pushed the thought as far from her mind as she could. Which wasn’t that far, unfortunately, since she was in his house laying on a bed intended for his wife.

She needed to concentrate on something else, if only for a few minutes.

Juliet’s eyes did a quick scan of the ceiling. There was a slight crack running the length of the room straight above her bed. Curious. It went all the way from one end of the room to the other. It had a few slight bends and curves, just barely though. Only one or two here and there really. Not too many. The crack itself wasn’t so bad. Just long. Not wide. Maybe as wide as a quill tip or maybe even a half-penny. With a quick jerk of her head, she tore her eyes away. What had her life come to that she found a crack in the ceiling fascinating? She closed her eyes and shook her head. Dinner wasn’t for a few more hours; she’d busy herself until then. But with what?