To Win His Wayward Wife (22 page)

“Here you are,” he said, placing her onto the seat in the carriage.

She glared at him until their food was brought out by one of the maids. Then she glared at the food. She was hungry. No, starving. No, famished. But she didn’t want to eat. She was too upset.

“Eat,” he encouraged.

“No, thank you,” she said flatly.

He grabbed a sandwich and offered it to her. When she pushed his hand away, he said, “You have to eat something. Madison, I know you didn’t want to go; and I know you’re mad at me for embarrassing you. But you’re only hurting yourself by not eating.”

She looked at the sandwich. It was roasted beef. One of her favorites. Licking her lips, she took the sandwich and devoured it.

“There’s more,” he offered.

“No, thank you,” she said, shaking her head and turning to rest the side of her body against the squabs.

“There’s another inn in four hours or so. We’ll stay there tonight,” he said softly, fruitlessly trying to ease her stiffened body to relax against him.

Chapter 24

“You may sleep on the floor,” Madison informed him primly after he carried her to their shared room and set her on the bed.

“No, I won’t,” he bit off. “Now scoot over.”

“No,” she said, spreading her arms and legs out on the bed like a giant starfish.

“What happened to the woman who said she’d share my bed because it’s what’s expected?” he asked tersely.

“She grew a backbone,” she responded pertly.

He crossed his arms and shook his head. “Scoot over.”

“No,” she said defiantly. “You may find elsewhere to sleep.”

“No, I won’t. Now be the model English wife and make room for your husband.”

“Pffft. Wrong sister,” Madison said laughingly. “If you wanted the model English wife you should have married Liberty.”

“I don’t want Liberty,” he said tightly, sweeping her from the top of her outstretched fingertips to the end of her perfect toes.

She giggled. “I daresay she doesn’t want you, either. Although…” she broke off into a fit of giggles.

“What could you possibly find funny just now?”

“The night before Liberty married Paul she tried to get me to take her place. Just imagine if I had. I’d have married Paul and you could have married Liberty!” she exclaimed, breaking into peals of laughter.

He stared at blankly at her. “Madison, did you have some wine I don’t know about?”

“No. Why?” she asked, trying not to giggle.

“There’s absolutely nothing funny about what you just said,” he told her flatly.

She blinked at him. “I suppose
you
wouldn’t think so.”

“No, I don’t think anyone would think so,” he corrected. “What has gotten into you just now? Don’t get me wrong, I enjoy seeing you laugh and have fun, but you’ve turned completely silly.”

“Oh dear,” she said with a giggle as she swung her far hand up to cover her giggling mouth. “Brooke always said the same,” she said between giggles.

“What?” he asked, staring at her in disbelief. This is what he imagined a candidate for Bedlam looked like. She looked absolutely mad. Fetching, but mad.

She had a fit of giggles again. “Act like a silly willy!”

“Excuse me?” What was this mad, fetching woman talking about?

“Right before I fall asleep,” she said as if that explained anything.

He nodded. “Are you telling me that when you’re tired you act like a madwoman?”

“Yes,” she chirped, nodding so enthusiastically he thought her head might bounce off.

“Then you better move over so we can go to sleep,” he said, not letting her theatrics deter him. Nobody acted this spastic when they were tired. Restless, yes. Insane, no.

Suddenly, too suddenly, her head lulled to the side and a soft snoring noise filled the air.

He shook his head and picked up the hand that was closest to him and tried to move it over, but was met with strong resistance and stopped. “All right, you win,” he said ruefully. “If you’d go through with an act worthy of Drury Lane in order to get me to leave you alone, I will.” He bent his head and dropped a kiss on her cheek. “But I’ll be in the chair by the door. And don’t forget, I’m a light sleeper.”

He sank into the leather chair and closed his eyes. Today could have been better, he mused. It also could have been worse. Robbie could have hit one of them with his bullet. His infection could have been a lot worse. He tried to move his arm and stopped after it moved less than an inch. He’d never been shot before and he prayed it never happened again. At least she’d been kind enough to clean it for him twice more in the carriage.

He smiled. She may be angry with him, but she wasn’t heartless. He just hoped she didn’t keep resisting him tomorrow.

But she did.

The next day was just as uncomfortable. He’d tried to talk to her in the carriage, but she wouldn’t respond. Not that she flat out ignored him. No, she just gave him simple one word answers, which were usually in the monosyllabic format.

Leaving before dawn and having not a lot of luggage, they were able to make good time and he decided they’d push all the way to Glenbrook to avoid another uncomfortable round of bedtime theatrics at another boarding house.

Glenbrook was the seat of his duchy. It was a large E-shaped estate built of red bricks. Three floors stood above ground with the kitchen and unfinished rooms below. He’d been told the rooms below were once used as dungeons, but he refused to acknowledge them as such. Just the idea made him shudder.

The inside hadn’t been refurnished in nearly a hundred years. Some of the things were fixed or replaced if they’d become broken, but the majority of the things were ancient. Except the water closets. That was one thing the previous duke had thought worthy of his money. He wanted—nay, needed—a private privy. Therefore, he splurged and bought the best available.

The estate and surrounding duchy boasted over one thousand farmable acres. There were close to fifty tenants and nearly every service was available in the village he controlled. He had a stable full of thoroughbreds and some of the finest stable hands money could afford. He also had a conservatory and extensive gardens that he didn’t give a fig about.

It seemed Glenbrook had the finest of everything, and now it would have the finest mistress: Madison.

His heart leapt. She was his wife and he was bringing her to his home. To her home. To their home.

She was asleep with her bare feet stuffed in between the cushions. She hadn’t let him touch her all day and he was aching to. Even if it was only her feet. He reached over and grabbed her ankle, carefully sliding her toes from where they’d been resting, then placed her foot on his thigh. He ran his hands along the delicate bones, tracing her arch with his fingers all the way down to her toes. He frowned. Her foot was rather cold. Freezing even. There hadn’t been a warm spot on her foot, not even her toes which had been tightly nestled between two cushions. He gently grabbed her other foot and brought it to his leg. This one was just as cold. 

Earlier he’d given her a small lap blanket to cover with and she’d used it to cover the top of her. He stripped off his coat and laid it over her feet and legs. Then put his hands together and blew on his palms before chafing them together in an effort to warm them up before grabbing her feet again. He wished she’d have said something if she was cold. He would have given her his coat or bought a hot brick the last time they stopped. Nothing for it now. He’d just keep her warm this way. He rather liked doing it anyway.

Around midnight the carriage came to a halt at Glenbrook and Benjamin was filled with bittersweet feelings. He was glad to be home and to bring Madison to the home they’d grow together and share for the rest of their lives. But at the same time, the intimacy they’d been allowed during the past few weeks would be lost due to all the intruding servants and responsibilities. Too bad he hadn’t made better progress in his attempt to win her affections during that time, he thought glumly.

He climbed from the carriage and did his best to carry her into the house in a more dignified manner by using two arms. His right arm still hurt, and it was dreadfully difficult to move it a lot, but for the most part the infection was clearing and he was able to move it just enough to support her legs as he carried her.

At the top of the main staircase was one of the doors that led to the master suites. He kicked open the door and carried her through to darkened sitting room to his bed. With all the care he could muster, he untied the laces of her gown and peeled it off her deadweight body.

With a groan, he pulled the counterpane up to cover her and lit a candle that was by his bureau. Opening the drawers, he rummaged through the contents until he found what he was looking for: a night shirt.

He didn’t trust himself not to wear something and have
some
sort of a barrier between them. A nightshirt would have to do. And so would sleeping on top of the covers.

But that didn’t help. He was able to resist acting out his primal urges. However, he was not able to resist thinking them.

As soon as the first rays of sunshine stole through the window, he jumped up, pulled on clothes and went downstairs to bark out orders to his staff in hopes of keeping himself distracted.

After he was certain Madison would be taken care of when she woke, he arranged for a meeting with his most trusted staff. He explained the situation regarding Robbie and informed them of his speculation that Robbie had an accomplice. They were given explicit instructions on what should happen if they happen to spot him.

Jamison, his burly head footman, was charged with the great responsibility of trailing Madison. She was not to leave Jamison’s sight unless she was with Benjamin. Though he didn’t believe Robbie had intentions of harming her, he might stoop to abducting her. Shame washed over him and he felt guilty for a brief minute. He’d abducted her to keep her safe, he argued with himself. If Robbie were to abduct her it would be for a different reason altogether.

Jamison left to go about his task and Benjamin dashed off a few notes. He sent for Mrs. Cowley, the local seamstress. He asked that she come right away and he’d pay thrice the going rate for the gowns Madison ordered. Then he wrote one to the staffing agency to have Lottie sent back to help Madison.

He sat back in his chair and debated on if he should send one to Andrew. He didn’t want Andrew to get involved in his relationship with Madison and wasn’t sure if sending a letter would help or hurt his chances of keeping Andrew out of his business.

With a sigh, he scribbled out the beginnings of a vague note explaining Madison was safely living at her rightful home, Glenbrook.

“We need to speak a moment,” Madison said tersely, barging into his study.

He nodded a dismissal to Jamison. “Yes?”

“I’m not going to be followed around by that behemoth!” she said sharply, her eyes alight with fiery rage.

 Benjamin folded his hands and closed his eyes for an extended blink. “I’m sorry to inform you this, but yes, you are.”

“No. I’m not,” she snapped, looking all out of sorts. “It’s bad enough you dragged me here against my wishes. But I will not have my personal privacy invaded by him.”

He shook his head and picked an imaginary piece of lint from his pant leg. “Personal privacy?” he echoed with a smile.

“You know what I meant,” she returned hotly, undeniably upset.

“I do,” he conceded. “You don’t like him following you. I understand that. But it’s not going to change.”

She let out a sound of frustration. “Why not?” she burst out. “I don’t intend to be mean about him, but he sets my teeth on edge.”

He shrugged. “You’ll get used to it.”

“I don’t want to get used to it,” she said through clenched teeth. “I want him to leave me alone.”

“No,” he said firmly, shaking his head.

“Then I’ll fire him,” she said with all the dignity of the fairest duchess in the land.

“You can’t,” he countered evenly, watching as her chest heaved in anger beneath the horribly wrinkled bodice of her gown.

She inclined her chin a notch. “Yes, I can. I am a duchess and the mistress of this house. Therefore, he is in my employ and he will be out of a job immediately.”

Benjamin shook his head and chuckled. “No,” he corrected gently. “He is in my employ. As duke and master of this house, I am above the duchess, just slightly, but enough. Therefore, he is in
my
employ and only I can terminate his employment.”

She closed her eyes and swallowed. “And it continues,” she whispered, shaking her head in disbelief.

“What continues?”

“Being treated as if I don’t matter,” she said quietly, sweeping the room in what would have been a grand exit if her gown wasn’t wrinkled from two straight weeks of wear and her feet had some sort of covering.

Benjamin raked a hand through his hair. She did matter. That’s why he’d stationed Jamison to guard her with his life. If only she could understand that.

An hour later Mrs. Cowley arrived and Madison spent the afternoon behind locked doors being fitted for gowns.

Fortunately Mrs. Cowley had a few already made up that needed only minor alterations that could be ready on the morrow.

After dinner, Benjamin steeled himself to go into their room. He had no idea what kind of a mood she’d be in. He’d always thought her to be Mild-Mannered Madison, but as of recently, he was seeing his assumption was wrong. Not that he didn’t like her having starch. He did. He just wished she’d direct some of her fire at someone besides him.

“Are you ready for bed?” he asked, opening the door.

“No.” Her voice was as hard and cold as a chunk of ice. She was sitting on the edge of the bed wearing all the clothes she currently possessed, her arms crossed defiantly across her chest.

He closed the door. “Why not?”

She gave a terse nod in the direction of across the room where an agitated Jamison stood with his arms crossed. It would appear as if the two were having a showdown.

“Jamison,” he said evenly, “you’re dismissed.”

“Thankee, Yer Grace,” Jamison said, walking from his spot.

“Are you ready for bed now?” Benjamin asked.

“No,” she repeated, staring at him in a way that made him feel unwelcome.

He cleared his throat. “Can I help you with your gown?” he offered, ignoring her stare.

“No,” she said, still piercing him with her icy stare.

“It will help you get ready for bed,” he said inanely.

“I’m not going to bed,” she said flatly.

He crossed his arms. “And why not?”

She nodded in his direction.

“Because I’m in here?” he asked with a hint of agitation.

She nodded.

“Too bad,” he said flatly.

She pursed her lips. “I want to be alone.”

“No.”

“Why not?” she demanded.

“Because you’re not to be alone, that’s why,” he explained in a sharp tone. “So, either you’ll sleep with me in the room or I’ll go get Jamison and bring him back in here. Which will it be?” He knew his voice sounded hard and menacing. He also knew she didn’t deserve to be treated that way. But she needed his protection, and this was the only way he could see to offer it. There was no other way.