Read His Jilted Bride (Historical Regency Romance) Online

Authors: Rose Gordon

Tags: #love, #historical romance, #unrequited love, #regency romance, #humorous romance, #marriage of convenience, #friends to lovers, #virgin hero, #rose gordon, #spinster, #loved all along

His Jilted Bride (Historical Regency Romance) (7 page)

BOOK: His Jilted Bride (Historical Regency Romance)
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He scoffed. “I most certainly did
not.”

Amelia arched her brow. “Hmmm, I seem
to recall things a little differently. First there was the
shriek—”


I know for certain that I did not shriek,” he cut in,
scowling. “I might have yelped, but I did not shriek.”

She grinned at him. “All right, and
how do you explain the moisture that surrounded your eyes following
your yelp?”


Perhaps a bug flew into my eye and I was trying to flush it
out.”


Into both eyes at that precise moment?” She shook her head.
“No, you were crying. Just admit it.”


All right,” he said, throwing his hands into the air. “I
admit I had tears in my eyes. Who wouldn't after having a two pound
chunk of wood collide with the front of their leg in such a
manner?”

She shrugged. “I don't know. You were
the one who denied you cried about it.”


That's because it's unmanly,” he informed her, crossing his
arms.


It's unmanly to cry?” she asked for clarification that he had
in fact just said the stupidest thing she'd ever heard.


Of course it is.” He twisted his lips. “
Unless you're a molly,”
he grumbled
almost inaudibly.


And what, pray tell, is a molly?” She nearly laughed at the
look of shock that had come over his face at her question. “You
ought to know by now that my hearing is good enough to hear when
you mumble under your breath.”

Elijah flicked his wrist. “Don't worry
about what a molly is. In the unlikely chance you ever make the
acquaintance of one, he probably wouldn't cry in front of
you.”

She frowned. “I've seen Philip cry and
I'm fairly certain he's not a molly, whatever that is.”


Was he ten years old and standing too close when his sibling
swung their pall mall mallet, too?”


No. He lost his prized thoroughbred in a card game and when
Mr. Maxwell came to collect his winnings, Philip—”


Please, stop, I pray you,” Elijah interjected, lifting his
hand to halt her words. “I'm sure there was just a bit of stable
dust in his eye.”


Ah, is that what you gentlemen call it?”


When we're genuinely tearing up, yes,” he said with a
grimace. “But I have difficulty believing Philip cried about losing
his horse. In that situation, I think he really did have something
in his eyes.”


No, I'm fairly certain he was crying. It was his
prized thoroughbred
.”


Prized thoroughbred or not, no man cries about losing
something. He might frown or scowl, but he doesn't cry.”


So when does a man cry?”


He doesn't,” Elijah burst out.


Ever?”


Ever.”


But what if he's hurt? Do his eyes not water?”


They might water, but he does not cry.”

She twisted her lips and crossed her
arms. “Is there a difference?”


Yes.”


I fail to see it,” she said, giving her head a slight shake.
“Tears are tears.”


Then I suppose every time a man's eyes water when he yawns or
sneezes you think he's crying?”


Well no,” she allowed. “But I'm certain Philip was crying
when he lost his horse.”


If you say so,” he grumbled.


It's still pain, Elijah. It might not be the same kind of
pain you felt when Henry hit you with the mallet, but I'm sure it
hurt him all the same.”

Elijah lifted his hands in defeat.
“All right, you win.”


Ha! I knew it, men do cry.”


No, I was just acknowledging that Philip cried about his
horse,” he teased.

She laughed. “All right; but since you
said I won, I demand you still allow me my boon.”


I wouldn't dream of denying it from you.”

***

Not that he'd ever dreamed her boon
would be so...so...infuriating, he amended as his jaw clenched in
agitation.


I beg your pardon?”


I said, I'd like a separate room,” Amelia repeated as if she
was announcing what she'd like for luncheon.

Despite the heat crawling up his face,
Elijah turned to the innkeeper of the little inn just outside of
London they'd stopped at for the evening. “We'll be back in just a
moment. Amelia, can we talk a moment?”

Amelia followed him over to the little
corner. “Yes?”


What are you about?”

She shrugged. “I won a boon, didn't
I?”


Yes,” he said slowly. “But I thought you'd want a book or a
shawl or some sort of other bauble.”


No. I think my own room tonight should do.”

Well, it wouldn't do for Elijah. He'd
missed his opportunity to bed her last night and this morning. He
didn't want to waste another chance. “You do realize when we reach
Watson Estate we'll have to share the same bedchamber?”

She frowned. “I thought there were
more than sixty guest bedchambers. Surely Alex's wife isn't
planning to invite that many people, is she?”


No,” he allowed. “But neither do I intend to take my new
bride to live in the main house. Alex has a hunting cabin just a
half a mile or so away from the main house. We'll be staying
there.”

Her frown deepened. “You want us to
walk half a mile back and forth each day to get to their
house?”

With any luck, they wouldn't be going
to Caroline's house party every day. “No, we can ride a horse, if
you'd rather. Or I can even order the carriage to transport us.”
Whatever it took to please her, he'd do. Almost. He did have his
limits, and right now, she was testing them.


We can talk about this later. For now, I just want my own
room for the night.”

He scowled. “Why?”


Because I won a boon,” she said, lifting her chin a
notch.

To her left two burly looking fellows
had stopped their conversation and were now watching Amelia and
Elijah with unmasked curiosity. Elijah twisted his lips. It was
becoming clear that if he didn't wish to have such a private matter
discussed publicly, he'd better just agree to let her have her own
room. “Fine. You can have your own room tonight. But don't think
for one minute you'll get your way tomorrow night.”


I will if I win another boon,” she said; that old, familiar
spark in her grey eyes.


I wouldn't spend too much time counting on such an
occurrence.” He took a step closer to her and dropped his voice. “I
have no desire to allow you another win.”

She took a step in his direction, and
matching his tone, said, “You won't have to let me win. I'll win
all on my own.”

Elijah had the strangest urge to wipe
that smug smile straight from her lips, preferably with a kiss—the
kind from yesterday at their wedding, not one similar to the
travesty this morning; but instead, he just nodded and walked off.
Now wasn't the time to push her. If she reacted so horribly to him
while they were alone, God could only know how she might act if he
tried to kiss her with an audience present.

Elijah stalked back to the counter
where the innkeeper stood. “We'll take two rooms,” he said, unable
to look the older man in the eye.

The innkeeper chuckled, but sobered
instantly when Elijah shot him an icy stare. “Here is yer keys.” He
handed Elijah two keys. “But there's a connecting door,” he added
with a wink.

Elijah closed his eyes, waiting for
Amelia's pert reply about the connecting door being unnecessary
that he was expecting; but no such reply came. He turned to look at
her and if he didn't know any better, he'd say she either hadn't
heard the man or was pretending she hadn't. He shook his head. For
as long as he might walk the face of this earth, he may never
understand the creature he'd married.

***

Amelia desperately needed
a new gown. While it was nice that Lady Templemore had loaned
Amelia one of her best traveling gowns, it didn't fit quite right.
They were close to the same height, both just a touch above five
feet tall, but it would seem Amelia had a tad more curve to her
bosom than Lady Templemore did.

One of the maids had been
able to let the seam out enough to allow Amelia to wear it somewhat
comfortably and at least she could get this one on and off herself,
she thought as she scowled at her image in the mirror. She turned
to the side and ran her hands down her smooth stomach. Was that a
bulge? Nonsense. It was too early to be showing signs of
increasing. Sadly, she hadn't yet experienced the one symptom that
guaranteed she was
not
increasing, either.

She frowned and moved away from the
mirror. Likely Elijah was waiting for her downstairs.

Or right outside her door, she amended
as soon as she opened the door to be greeted by his pale blue
eyes.


Is the carriage ready?”

He nodded. “Everything's ready, but
you.” He cocked his head to the side. “Are you feeling all
right?”


Just fine,” she lied. Was it that obvious she was hiding
something?

He nodded slowly then flickered a
glance inside her room, to her bed, if she had to venture a guess.
She fought not to scowl and quickly, she closed the door. What was
his obsession with her bed? If he truly wanted to take her there,
all he'd have to do is kiss her properly, with true and genuine
emotion and she'd undoubtedly be at war with herself about what to
do. Of course, she'd then have to tell him of her shame—which would
kill the romance and magic of the moment faster than a stampede of
elephants could trample a rose garden—then they'd be right back in
the situation they currently found themselves.

She sighed and pursed her lips. It was
for the best that he wasn't truly interested in her. Once she knew
whether or not she was increasing she could tell him everything,
and they could start that particular aspect of their marriage with
honesty. Unfortunately, her own uncertainty of the situation might
kill her first.


Are you feeling all right?” Elijah repeated, pulling Amelia
from her fog.

She forced a smile. “I already told
you that I was.”

He cast her a dubious look, but didn't
argue. “Shall we?” He offered her his arm and led her to the
carriage.

Amelia was beyond relief when the
familiar trees and rolling landscape of Watson Estate came into
view, followed by the well traveled lanes to the dowager house and
hunting cabin. Elijah, however, didn't look quite as relieved,
perhaps that was because the curtains were drawn in the heat of the
day, flooding that little building with more heat than might be
comfortable.


Is something the matter?”

She expected him to make a jest about
his asking her that this morning, but surprised her when he didn't.
“No.” He turned to face her, a stoic expression coming over him.
Without consulting his pocket watch, he said, “We'll go into the
main house first and greet our gracious host.”

Amelia stared at him in confusion. He
looked no more fit for company than she did, and he was insisting
they go inside? Why?


What has you grinning like a cat who's spotted the cream?”
Elijah asked with no hint of emotion in his voice.

She put her fingers to her
lips. Indeed, he was right and she was grinning wildly. “Nothing. I
was merely thinking that perhaps
you
do have a scandalous side, after
all.”


And you came to this conclusion because I think we should
greet our hosts?” he asked, confusion marring his handsome
face.


Dressed like we've just spent the last two days—and
nights—wearing the same crumpled costumes, yes.”

His blue eyes lit with
laughter. “Have no fear, my sweet,” he said in a voice that sent
shivers down her spine. “Our dreadful state of dress won't
scandalize them nearly as much as the thoughts that will be cycling
through each one of their heads about
how
we came to be in such a
disheveled state. Don't forget, each and every one of them had a
love match.”

Amelia's cheeks heated as Elijah's
soft chuckle filled the carriage. That scoundrel!

 

Chapter Seven

 

 

Amelia had never felt as nervous as
she did right then walking into the drawing room filled with
Elijah's closest female relatives.

BOOK: His Jilted Bride (Historical Regency Romance)
10.53Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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