His eyes darkened, and he stalked to her, standing even closer than when she’d bandaged his hand. “Did you just threaten to allow another man into your bed?” Oh, this was new. It seemed he had a temper too.
She ought to be frightened—and part of her was, the part that was still reserved and soft-spoken, afraid of her own shadow, no matter how badly she didn’t want to be. This new part of her, however, the one that was tired of being alone and desperate for someone to care for, wasn’t scared. She was emboldened. Or perhaps even…excited. A reaction from him meant she was gaining ground. She hoped so anyway.
She arched a brow and gave him what she hoped was a saucy look. “Would that encourage you to do your duty?” How she hated that word. As if she were a required task instead of a woman. His wife.
But wasn’t a wife—and a husband—merely a duty personified? Her mother would say so, and everything her husband had said and done led her to acknowledge that he would believe the same.
He frowned. “I don’t find your attempt at lightheartedness or flirtation remotely amusing or enticing. Indeed, I am shocked by this change in your behavior. Where is the woman I married?”
“Gone.” She leaned forward and inhaled, catching his scent—an elusive combination of cedar and spice. The heat she’d felt earlier returned, climbing into her face but also spreading lower and making her body…tingle.
He jerked back from her. “If you’ll excuse me, I need to retire. I have an early morning appointment.”
Sabrina’s body, taut with apprehension and expectation, relaxed. The battle was over for now. A draw, which was better than a defeat. Uncrossing her arms, she turned and left his chamber, closing the door gently behind her.
Now that she was gone from his presence, all the bravado slipped from her body like jelly sliding from a spoon. She gripped the doorframe of her chamber as she staggered inside. She swung the door closed, more forcefully and loudly than she had her husband’s.
Then she slumped back against the wood, closing her eyes and taking deep, rapid breaths.
Slower.
It was a mantra she’d often repeated since the first time her breathing had become too fast, her head had gone dizzy, and her chest had felt as if a horse were standing on it. She’d collapsed to the floor, terrifying her mother. That had been the day before she’d been presented to the Queen two years ago.
Regaining control, Sabrina opened her eyes and moved into her bedchamber. Smaller in space and in the size of furnishings, her room was soft and pale when compared with her husband’s. A palette of light pinks and greens soothed and comforted, reminding her that she was a delicate flower, as her father called her.
The young woman who’d been promoted to act as Sabrina’s lady’s maid came in through the dressing chamber. Charity Taylor was perhaps a year or two older than Sabrina, with dark, chocolate brown hair and wide, tawny eyes. “I thought I heard you come in. Can I offer any further assistance, my lady?”
“No, thank you. I do appreciate you stepping in to help me this evening.”
“It is my privilege,” she said with a bob of her head. “I may not be trained to be a lady’s maid, but I could learn if you decide I suit you. My sister is a lady’s maid to one of the patronesses of the Phoenix Club. In fact, she’s the one who was able to secure this position for me.”
“And how did she do that?”
“I suppose it wasn’t her specifically. Her employer, Mrs. Renshaw, and the owner of the club assist people—sometimes with employment and sometimes with other matters. If you need help with something, you go to the owner of the Phoenix Club.”
That was Lord Lucien Westbrook, Sabrina’s husband’s younger brother. This new information clung to Sabrina’s mind even as she focused on the young woman in front of her. “I’d be delighted to have you train to be my maid, if you are inclined.” Finding a lady’s maid was not something Sabrina wanted to spend time on. Besides, Charity seemed a pleasant and eager sort, so why bother looking? However, that didn’t mean Sabrina knew her or what type of person she truly was. Summoning her newfound courage, she forced herself to say, “I do have one requirement. I don’t tolerate gossip of any kind. Anything I say to you or that you overhear must not leave your lips. Is that understood?”
Charity’s eyes widened briefly as a shadow of apprehension flashed within them. “Yes, my lady.”
Sabrina offered her a smile. “Please don’t fret. I’m sure you’ll be discreet. I just find it’s best to communicate expectations at the start.” If only she and her husband had done that. But then she hadn’t known enough about anything to do so and still didn’t. Except to demand a child. That was the single expectation they both shared—or should anyway.
Shoulders relaxing, Charity nodded. “Thank you, my lady. Good night.” With a curtsey, she departed the chamber.
Staring after her, Sabrina’s mind went back to what the maid had said about Lucien. He helped people with “other matters.” Sabrina certainly needed help if she was going to make the changes she wanted to.
The heaviness of her thoughts pulled her mouth down as she strode to the bed and cast her dressing gown to the floor. Responsibility told her to pick it up and lay it carefully across the end of the bed, but she tore the coverlet back and flounced onto the mattress instead.
She reclined against the pillows and stared up at the canopy, reliving the encounter she’d just had with her husband. The look on his face when she’d demanded a baby… A devilish giggle burst forth, and she clapped her hand over her mouth.
That was most uncharitable of her. Did he even deserve her charity? He’d been nothing but condescending and aloof since just before their marriage. Yes, she’d been reserved, but would it have killed him to try to reach out to her? Her mother had said that her new husband would guide her, that she need only follow his direction. How could Sabrina do that when he gave her none?
You haven’t really tried either. No, she hadn’t, but how could she when she was utterly ignorant of marital relationships, particularly in the bedchamber? Not just ignorant, but afraid.
She wasn’t going to be afraid anymore. Or shy. No more “Wallflower Countess,” the nickname some had called her last Season. She couldn’t be any of that if she wanted to entice her husband into her bed and have a child. And since he had a mistress, she was going to have to work even harder to gain his attention. She only hoped she could.
It would require the drastic change she planned. A complete rejection of the woman she’d been, one who lived in the shadows and clung to propriety, wielding it like a shield against, well, everything.
The new Lady Aldington would be witty, charming, and daring. She would garner attention and admiration, even if it didn’t come from her frigid husband—and she would have a child to love.
Chapter 3
The crisp, late winter air bit at Constantine’s cheeks as he thundered down Rotten Row. He’d slept horribly, his mind and body awash with thoughts of his wife’s demands.
She’d actually demanded he visit her every night until she was with child. He still didn’t recognize the woman who’d arrived at his house unannounced.