“Contrary to what appears to be your very low opinion of my intelligence, I assure you that I now understand every facetof today. With great futility and dismay, I might add.” Before he could comment, she continued, “But I shall strive to be civil, keep your houses in good order, and be a polite hostess to whatever parties your new title requires of you. However, that is all I can promise. No. Forgive me. That is not true at all. I shall also do my very best to capture the infuriating blackmailer, so I might throttle him myself for throwing my life into such an upheaval.”
Nash jutted his chin higher and narrowed his eyes. “Then I have your word that a real truce between us is now in force? That there will be no more physical attacks?”
A wicked smile twitched at her mouth, begging to be unfurled. With more control than she realized she possessed, she held it at bay. A knee to a man’s pride apparently did wonders to make him fear you. “You have my word, sir. I shall make no more attacks upon your person.” She dangled her soggy footwear higher. “Now, if you will excuse me?”
He pushed past her and marched over to the settee beside the window. Defiance and determination shouted from the set of his broad shoulders. “I shall excuse you long enough to sort your”—he flicked a hand at her slippers and stockings as if shooing them away—“your situation, and then I wish to speak with you.”
“A gentleman would politely ask, sir, rather than force his way into a lady’s room and make demands.” His condescending manner tempted her to send him to the floor again. She glared at him, fighting to control her temper.
His brow lightly puckered, whether from bewilderment or frustration, she couldn’t quite decide. He apologetically tipped his head and offered her a formal bow. “Forgive me, my lady, if my behavior came across as demanding. I assure you, I did not mean it as such. I beg you to realize that today has placed a strain upon us both.”
Deep down inside, the little girl whose heart he had broken so long ago wept uncontrollably because the only reason he was marrying her was to obey the queen and gain a place among the aristocracy. Sophie swallowed hard and gently shushed that poor, foolish child back into the shadows of her memories. She would deal with those silly feelings later because, in truth, she did not wish to marry Nash any more than he wished to marry her. Her past self would do well to realize that and be done with it. Neither accepting nor rebuffing his insulting apology, she went into her bedchamber.
Marie, her lady’s maid, emerged from the dressing room. “Good heavens, my lady. Give me those things, and I shall have you dried and in a fresh gown quick as can be. I am sure that wet hemline is most uncomfortable.”
“Sir Nash is waiting to speak with me in the sitting room.” Sophie rolled her eyes to convey exactly how she felt about that.
The tiny, dark-haired maid who had always reminded Sophie of the woodland imps and fairies from her childhood storybooks shot her a mischievous look. “Shall I order you a bath drawn, my lady? For a long, hot soak after such a trying day?”
“Better not this time. I already kneed him in his pride and dropped him to my workroom floor earlier.”
Marie yipped a sharp laugh before clamping her mouth shut to prevent more from escaping. She tried to calm herself but sadly failed. Her shoulders shook as she sputtered with hissing giggles. “I shall make haste, then, to get you sorted in no time at all, my lady.”
True to her word, the maid had Sophie changed into a lovely muslin gown in record time. She emerged from the bedroom, hoping her future husband had changed his mind and departed. He had not.
“Shall I ring for something?” she asked, attempting to sound as serene and in control as her mother always did. “Tea or something stronger?”
“Not for my sake, thank you. But if you wish for something, then by all means, do not abstain on my account.” He wandered around the room with his hands clasped to the small of his back and the muscles in his jaw flexing as though he was grinding his teeth.
Sophie yanked on the bellpull. This conversation required something stronger than tea. When Thornton opened the sitting room door, she made her wishes known in a single word: “Brandy.”
The butler nodded and left.
“Brandy?” Nash repeated, eyeing her as if she had requested poison.
“Do none of your ladybirds ever drink brandy?” She couldn’t resist goading him.
He narrowed his eyes at her. “I have no ladybirds—nor will I ever have any ladybirds.”
“Never say never, Sir Nash. From what Maman tells me, every man has his needs. Except for priests or monks, of course. Or is it your intention to take a vow of celibacy?”
His expression shifted to one that sent a sudden surge of heat through her and made her swallow hard. “As my wife, you shall fulfill my needs, my lady.” He gave her a smile that made her wounded past self swoon. “As I will fulfill yours, I assure you.”
“I understand the need to consummate the marriage,” she managed to say in an even tone that made her quite proud of her control. “But after that, further”—she flipped a hand—“whatever you wish to call it, shall be unnecessary.”
“We shall see.” He steered his meandering path to encircle her, keeping his gaze locked on her as he walked.
“Must you pace like a caged animal? Circling me as if I am your prey causes me to wonder if our truce was agreed upon too soon.”
He directed her attention to the settee by the window. “Then sit with me, my lady. After all, a true gentleman does not sit while a lady stands.”
She took a seat in the chair beside the settee and folded her hands in her lap. With an overly gracious nod at the settee, she smiled. “Have a seat, Sir Nash.”
He sat on the end closest to her, perching on the edge of the seat as if ready to spring upon her at a moment’s notice. “Do you ever do as you are asked, my fractious swan?”
“It depends on who does the asking.”
“As your husband—”
