“No, we willnot,” came the petulant response. “At least,Iwill not. And especially if you’re going to be absent all the time. You cannot possibly expect me to live alone in some dilapidated manor in a godforsaken part of England, away from my family and friends. It’s unreasonable in the extreme.”
“The manor is far from dilapidated, Sybella, and you won’t be alone,” Maxwell replied, his voice calm. “The Northcotts are a short carriage drive away at Highfield Hall and will be company for you when I’m gone. And I won’t be absentallthe time.”
“Most of the time, then. Besides, having met her, I don’t particularly like that Northcott girl. She seems a little unrefined. She’s a bit too familiar with you, as well, I think. It’s unseemly.”
Louisa’s eyes widened.Unrefined? Unseemly? Why, of all the—
“Miss Northcott is perhaps a little impetuous, but she’s kind-hearted,” Maxwell replied. “She’s making an attempt to befriend you, Sybella, that’s all. The Northcotts are fine people. You’ll find them to be very welcoming.”
A flush of guilty heat arose in Louisa’s cheeks. Fine people did not eavesdrop on private conversations. Worse, theconversation had just become personal to her. She had made the wrong choice, she realized, squeezing her eyes shut. She should have made her presence known from the start and dealt with the consequences.
“Oh, yes, I’m sure we’ll find them welcoming, Maxwell. We’re paying them all kinds of money to stay in their god-forsaken manor.” Sybella released an audible breath. “It would be interesting to see how welcoming they’d be if that were not the case. Why can’t you lease something down here? Or, better yet, do as Papa suggested. Buy some land, build a house for us, and have someone else do all the work. Give your brother more responsibility. I cannot fathom why you insist on working all the time when you can pay people to do it for you. It’s ridiculous.”
There followed a moment of silence before Maxwell spoke again. “I have always made it very clear, Sybella, that my work is important, and that I need to live close—”
“More important thanme? More important than ourmarriage?”
Louisa winced at the outburst.
“And that I need to live close to my business interests, all of which lie in the north,” Maxwell finished, his tone now a little harder around the edges. “Our marriage is important too, lass, of course, which is why I want you beneath my roof and in my bed.”
A gasp followed. “Must you speak so crudely? And please refrain from calling me ‘lass’. You know I don’t like it. It’s… it’s common. And I simply will not be happy stuck in God-knows-where all summer. Besides, I’ve heard it rains there all the time.”
“An exaggeration,” Maxwell replied. “Look, I don’t want you to be unhappy, so perhaps we can compromise. You can spend several weeks in Yorkshire, and then, if you wish, return to London for a while, or to your father’s Hampshire estate. That way, we can both—”
A squeak cut into Maxwell’s conversation. “Oh, myheavens. How utterlydisgusting.”
Louisa heard the sound of a fan snapping open and couldn’t help but smile. It seemed Miss Chessington had noticed the indelicate decor.
“It’s all over the ceiling,” Sybella wailed. “How could anyone eventhinkof allowing such depravity beneath their roof. I cannot remain here a moment longer. Not with all those unclothed bodies looking down at us.”
“It’s just a painting, Sybella. Don’t look at it if it offends you. Let me finish what I—”
“It’s filthy. An abomination. No, no, no, I cannot risk being discovered in here. What would people think? I swear I feel quite sick.” There followed the sound of the door opening. “I’ll be in the ladies’ retiring room for a few minutes. Wait for me in the hallway, Maxwell. We’ll finish this conversation later.”
There followed the sound of a masculine sigh, and an unintelligible mumble.
Then silence. Then the sound of the door, clicking quietly closed again.
Had Maxwell gone?
The answer came by way of a throat being cleared, and Louisa, at that same moment, realized how chilled she was. The room had been cold enough, but behind the curtains, with only a thin pane of glass between her and a cold March night, it was close to freezing. Yet she didn’t dare move. Not while Maxwell Harlow was still in the room.
Why hasn’t he left?
She suppressed a shiver while silently cursing the fact that her nose had decided to run. But she didn’t dare sniff either. She bit down to stop her teeth from chattering, willing Maxwell to leave before she caught her death of cold. But he was still there.Then, she heard sounds of movement and closed her eyes in relief. At last, he was leaving.
But then, “The show is over,” he said, harshly, making her jump. “You can come out now.”
She blinked. He didn’t mean her, surely.
Did he?
“I’m talking to whoever is hiding behind those bloody curtains.” His voice had hardened even more. “Either show yourself immediately, or I’ll come over there and drag you out by the scruff of your damn neck.”
Oh, dear lord!
Louisa gave a most unladylike sniff, got to her feet, and inched through the curtains like an actress with stage-fright. “Um, I do beg your pardon, Mr. Harlow.” She swallowed and knotted her fingers at her waist. “I… I didn’t mean any harm.”
