Ellie entered the orangery and what she saw made her want to cry. The rosebushes—which she had already fallen in love with—were dead, their leaves looking almost singed. Petals littered the floor, and the bushes gave off the most hideous stench. She covered her nose. “Who would do such a thing?” She turned to Helen and repeated, “Who?”
Helen stared at her a moment and then finally said, “Ellie, you are the only one who likes to spend time in the orangery.”
“Surely you don't think I… You think I did this?”
“I don't think you did this on purpose,” Helen replied, looking very uncomfortable. “Anyone could see how much you enjoyed gardening. Perhaps you put something in the soil. Or misted something onto it you ought not have.”
“I did no such thing!” Ellie insisted. “I—”
“Good God!” Charles entered the orangery, one hand holding a handkerchief over his nose and mouth. “What is that smell?”
“My rosebush!” Ellie nearly wailed. “Look what someone has done to it.”
Charles planted his hands on his hips as he surveyed the damage, then accidentally breathed through his nose and coughed. “The devil take it, Eleanor, how did you manage to kill off the rosebushes in only two days? It always took my mother at least a year to do such damage.”
“I had nothing to do with this!” she yelled. “Nothing!”
Claire chose that moment to enter the scene. “Did something die in the orangery?” she asked.
Ellie's eyes turned to slits. “No, but my husband is about to if he utters one more derogatory word about me.”
“Ellie,” Charles said in a placating voice. “I don't think you did this on purpose. It's just—”
“Aaaaargh!” she yelled, throwing up her arms. “If I hear that sentence one more time I shall scream.”
“You are screaming,” Claire pointed out.
Ellie wanted to strangle that child.
“Some people simply aren't very good at gardening,” Claire continued. “There is nothing wrong with that. I myself am terrible with plants. I wouldn't dream of interfering with anything here. That is why we employ gardeners.”
Ellie looked from Charles to Helen to Claire and back. Their expressions were faintly pitying, as if they had stumbled across a creature who, however likable, was completely inept.
“Ellie,” Charles said, “perhaps we should discuss this.”
After two days of silent treatment, his sudden willingness to discuss her apparent failure in the orangery simply threw her over the edge. “I have nothing to discuss with you,” she ground out. “Any of you!” Then she stomped from the room.
Charles let Ellie stew in her room until evening, then decided that he had better go and talk to her. He had never seen her as upset as she'd been that morning in the orangery. Of course, he'd only known her slightly more than a week, but he certainly had never imagined the spirited and brave woman he'd married getting that upset over anything.
He'd had a few days to cool his temper over their last argument. She'd been testing him, he now realized. She wasn't used to the ways of the ton and she was lashing out. She would settle down once she grew more accustomed to marriage.
He knocked softly on the connecting door, then a bit louder when he heard no answer. Finally he heard something that might have been, “Come in,” and he stuck his head inside.
Ellie was sitting on her bed, bundled up in a spare quilt she must have brought with her from home. It was a simple piece—white with blue stitching—certainly nothing that would have fit the overblown tastes of his ancestors.
“Was there something you wanted?” Ellie asked, her voice quite flat.
Charles looked at her closely. Her eyes were red, and she looked very small and young in the voluminous quilt. She was clutching something in her left hand.
“What is that?” he asked.
Ellie looked down at her hand as if she'd forgotten she was holding anything. “Oh, this. It's the miniature of my mother.”
“It's very special to you, isn't it?”
There was a long pause, as if Ellie were deciding whether or not she wanted to share her family memories. Finally she said, “She had two made when she realized she was dying. One for me and one for Victoria. It was always the plan that we would take them with us when we married.”
“So you would never forget her?”
Ellie turned her face to his quite suddenly, her blue eyes surprised. “That is exactly what she said. Exactly.” She sniffled and wiped her nose inelegantly with her hand. “As if I would ever forget her.”
She looked up at the walls of her bedroom. She hadn't gotten around to taking down the dreadful portraits, and the countesses looked even more imposing than usual when compared to her mother's gentle expression.
“I'm sorry about what happened today in the or-angery,” Charles said softly.
“I'm sorry, too,” Ellie said in a bitter voice.
Charles tried to ignore her harsh tone as he sat beside her on the bed. “I know that you truly loved those plants.”
“So did everyone else.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean that someone doesn't want to see me happy. Someone is purposefully ruining my efforts to make Wycombe Abbey my home.”
“Ellie, you are the Countess of Billington. That very fact means that Wycombe Abbey is your home.”
“Not yet. I need to put my mark on it. I need to do something to make at least a piece of it mine. I tried to be helpful by fixing the oven.”
Charles sighed. “Perhaps we shouldn't mention the oven.”
“I did not set the rack incorrectly,” she said, her eyes flashing fire. “Someone tampered with my efforts.”
He let out a long breath and placed his hand on hers. “Ellie, no one thinks badly of you. It is not your fault that you're a bit inept when it comes to—”
“Inept! Inept?” Her voice rose halfway to a shriek. “I am not—” She got into a bit of trouble here, for in her haste to jump off the bed and plant her hands on her hips in offended fury, she forgot that Charles was sitting on a corner of her blanket, and she tumbled onto the floor, landing rather clumsily on her bottom. She staggered to her feet, tripping twice—once on her skirt and once on the blanket—and finally ground out, “I am not inept.”
Charles, for all of his efforts to remain sensitive to her distress, could not keep his mouth from quivering into a smile. “Ellie, I didn't mean—”
“I'll have you know I have never been anything but ept.”
“Ept?”
“I have always been supremely organized, brilliantly capable—”
“Ept?”
“I don't procrastinate and I don't shirk my duties. I get things done.”
“Is that a word?”
“Is what a word?” she burst out, looking very annoyed with him.
“Ept.”
“Of course not.”
“You just said it,” Charles said.
“I did no such thing.”
“Ellie, I'm afraid that you—”
“If I did,” she said, flushing slightly, “then that ought to prove how upset I have become. Using nonsense words. Hmmmph. It is very unlike me.”
“Ellie, I know that you are an extremely intelligent woman.” He waited for her to say something and when she didn't, he added, “It's why I married you.”
“You married me,” she bit off, “because you needed to save your fortune and you thought I would overlook your affairs.”
He colored slightly. “It is certainly true that my shaky financial situation had a great deal to do with the haste with which we married, but I assure you that having an affair was the last thing on my mind when I decided to wed you.”
She let out a ladylike snort. “One has only to look at your list to know that you are lying.”
“Ah, yes,” Charles said caustically, “the infamous list.”
“Speaking of our marriage agreement,” Ellie said, “have you settled my
financial affairs?”
“Just yesterday, as a matter of fact.”
“You did?” She sounded quite surprised.
“Yes, but—”
“But what?” he asked testily, irritated that she hadn't expected him to keep his word.
“Nothing.” She paused, and then added, “Thank you.”
Charles nodded his reply. After a few moments of silence, he said, “Ellie, we really must discuss our marriage. I don't know where you obtained your poor impression of me, but—”
“Not now,” she interrupted. “I'm too tired, and I really can't bear to hear you explain how little I know of aristocratic marriages.”
“Any preconceptions I held of marriage were formed before I met you,” he explained.
“I have already told you that I don't believe that I am so heartstoppingly appealing that you would throw over your notions of what a marriage ought to be.”
Charles looked at her closely, taking in the wild length of red-gold hair that fell across her shoulders, and decided that “appealing” wasn't nearly a strong enough word to describe her. His body ached for her, and his heart—well, he wasn't so experienced with matters of the heart, but he was fairly sure that his was feeling something. “Then teach me,” he said simply. “Teach me what a marriage ought to be.”
She stared at him in shock. “How would I know? I'm as new to this as you are.”
“Then perhaps you ought not to be so quick to scold me.”
A vein very nearly popped clear out of her temple before she said, “I do know that husbands and wives ought to regard each other highly enough so that they do not laugh and turn the other cheek when their spouse is committing adultery.”
“See? I knew you had some firm ideas about marriage.” He smiled and leaned back into her bed pillows. “And I cannot tell you how pleased I am to hear that you are not interested in cuckolding me.”
“I would be pleased to hear the same thing from you,” she shot back.
His smile stretched into a full-fledged grin. “Jealousy never fell upon more appreciative ears.”
“Charles…” Her voice was laced with warning.
He chuckled and said, “Ellie, I assure you that the thought of adultery has not crossed my mind once since I met you.”
“That is reassuring,” she said sarcastically. “You have managed to keep your mind on the straight and narrow for an entire week.”
Charles thought about pointing out that it had actually been eight days but decided that seemed childish. Instead he said, “It seems to me, then, that your role as wife is quite clear.”
“I beg your pardon.”
“After all, I don't want to stray.”
“I don't like the sound of this,” she muttered.
“I would like nothing more than to spend a lifetime in your arms.”
She snorted. “I don't even want to think about how many times you've said that before, my lord.”
Charles slid off the bed and onto his feet with the grace of a cat. He took advantage of her disconcertment by picking up one of her hands and raising it to his lips.
“If you're trying to seduce me,” she said plainly, “it won't work.”
He grinned, the very devil in his smile. “I'm not trying to seduce you, dearest Eleanor. I would never attempt such a gargantuan task. After all, you are noble; you are upright; you are made of stern stuff.”
Put that way, Ellie rather thought she sounded like a tree trunk. “Your point being?” she ground out.
“Why, it is simple, Ellie. I think you should seduce me.”
Chapter 11
She smacked his chest with the heels of her hands, knocking him back onto the bed. “Are you insane?” she screeched.
Charles only smiled. “I assure you that you did not need to resort to force to get me into your bed, dear wife.”
“This is nothing but a game to you!”
“No, Ellie. This is marriage.”
“You don't know what marriage is.”
“By your own admission, you don't know, either.” He reached out for her hand. “I suggest we learn together.”
Ellie snatched hers away. “Don't touch me. I can't think when you touch me.”
“A most encouraging fact,” he murmured.
She shot him a scathing look. “I am not going to try to seduce you.”
“It wouldn't be that difficult. And it is always rewarding to succeed at one's endeavors.”
“It would be exceedingly difficult,” she spat back at him. “I shouldn't be able to summon enough desire to make a good go of it.”
“Ouch. A well-placed blow, my lady, but clearly false.”
Ellie wanted to hiss a stinging retort, but she couldn't think of anything clever to say. Trouble was, she knew her words were false, too. The man had only to look at her and her knees grew weak. When he actually reached out and touched her, she could barely stand.
“Ellie,” he said softly, “come to bed.”
“I'm going to have to ask you to leave,” she said primly.
“Don't you even want to give my plan a try? It doesn't seem fair for you to dismiss my ideas out of hand.”
“Fair? Fair! Are you insane?”
“Sometimes I wonder,” he muttered.
“See? You know as well as I that this is madness.”
Charles swore under his breath and grumbled something about her having better ears than a rabbit. Ellie took advantage of his relative silence to stay on the offensive and say, “What could I possibly have to gain by seducing you?”
“I would tell you,” he drawled, “but I'm not certain your tender ears are ready for it.”
Ellie turned redder than her hair and tried to say, “You know that wasn't what I meant.” But her teeth were so tightly clenched that it came out more like a hiss.
“Ah, my serpentine wife,” Charles sighed.
“I am losing my temper, my lord.”
“Really? I hadn't noticed.”
Ellie had never had the urge to slap someone in her entire life, but she was starting to think that this might be a fine time to start. His mocking, overly confident attitude was too much for her to bear. “Charles—”
“Before you go on,” he interrupted, “allow me to explain to you why you ought to seriously consider seducing me.”
“Have you made a list?” she drawled.
He waved his hand nonchalantly in the air. “Nothing so formal, I assure you. But I tend to think in lists—it's a habit we compulsive listmakers share—and so naturally I have some key reasons organized in my head.”
“Naturally.”
He smiled at her attempt at sarcasm. “They are not ranked, of course.” When she didn't say anything he added, “Just so there are no misunderstandings about the good of England and the possibility of the sky falling in and all that.”
More than anything, Ellie wanted to throw him out of her room. Very much against her better judgment, she said, “Go on.”
“Very well, let me see.” Charles brought his hands together in a vaguely praying motion as he stalled for time. It hadn't even occurred to him to make a list until Ellie had mentioned it. He looked over at his wife, who was tapping her foot impatiently. “All right, here we are, first we must title the list.”
She looked at him dubiously, and he knew she suspected he was making this up as he went along. Not a problem, he decided. This shouldn't be that difficult.
“The title?” Ellie prodded.
“Ah, yes. ‘Reasons Why Ellie Should Seduce Charles.’ I would have called it ‘Reasons Why Ellie Should Try to Seduce Charles,’“he added as an aside, “but the outcome seems most certain to me.”
She offered him nothing more than a stony stare, so he continued, “I meant that there is little reason to fear that you might make a muck of it.”
“I know what you meant.”
He smiled slyly. “Ah yes, of course you did. Shall we move on to number one?”
“Please.”
&n
bsp; “I shall begin with the most elementary. Number One: You shall enjoy it.”
Ellie very much wanted to contradict this, but she had a sinking suspicion that would be a lie.
“Number Two: I shall enjoy it.” He looked up at her and grinned. “Of that I am certain.”
Ellie leaned back against the wall, feeling a bit weak.
Charles cleared his throat. “Which leads rather neatly into Number Three: Since I shall enjoy it, I will have no reason to look elsewhere for comfort.”
“The fact that you are married to me ought to be reason enough!”
“Yes, it should,” he agreed. “But I am the first to admit that I am not the most noble and God-fearing of men. I will need to be taught how blissful and satisfying marriage can be.”
Ellie let out a derisive snort.
“Once I do that,” he continued, “I am certain that I shall be a model husband.”
“You just wrote in your other list that you wanted a sophisticated, worldly marriage, one in which you would be free to stray.”
“That was before I met you,” he said jovially.
She planted her hands on her hips. “I have already told you that argument won't wash.”
“But it's true. To be frank, it had never occurred to me that I might find a wife to whom I wanted to be faithful. I won't tell you that I'm in love with you—”
Ellie's heart surprised her and sank.
“—but I think I might learn to love you, given time and proper encouragement.”
She crossed her arms. “You will say anything to seduce a woman, won't you?”
Charles winced. His words had sounded a lot worse than he'd intended. “This isn't coming out right,” he muttered.
She raised a brow, gifting him with an expression that was eerily reminiscent of his late nanny's—when she had been really annoyed with him. Charles suddenly felt rather like a scolded child—a most unpleasant sensation for a man of his stature.
“Hell, Ellie,” he burst out, jumping off the bed and onto his feet, “I want to make love to my wife. Is that such a crime?”
“It is when you don't care about her.”
“I do care about you!” He raked his hand through his hair, and his expression grew decidedly exasperated. “I like you better than any female I've ever met. Why the hell do you think I married you?”