“Is that a command?” she asked. She had intended it to be light, but itcame out deadly serious. She looked anxiously up at him. It was as if shehad lost the connection between her will and her words.
He was frowning slightly, but with puzzlement, not anger. “What hashappened to you recently, Elizabeth? You’re like a whip-shy horse. Hassomeone done or said something to upset you?”
“No,” said Beth quickly, too quickly. The last thing she wanted to talkabout was the duchess’s explanation of the marriage act. To move theconversation on she asked, “What would you do with a whip-shy horse?”
“Feed it to the hounds?”
“What!” Then she saw the teasing light in his eyes.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “Of course I’d try to repair the damage first.”He stopped and turned to face her, putting a hand up to cradle the side ofher face.
Beth flinched and tried to pull away. He tightened his hold. “For God’ssake, stop that! What’s the matter with you?”
The matter was that every intimacy made her think of Venus and Mars.She had no notion of how to deal with it graciously and was terrified ofwhere it might lead. “I don’t like to be handled,” she said stiffly, hishand a burning brand against the side of her neck.
“Why not?”
Beth stared at him. “Surely it is normal ?”
“No, not particularly. You’re intelligent enough to know we have tolearn to be comfortable with one another, and yet you’re making no effort?”
“I’m sorry it’s such an effort,” Beth snapped.
He sucked in his breath with irritation but took his hand away. “Is itbecause of how I touched you that night?” he asked.
Beth swallowed. “Yes.” It was a lie. It hadn’t helped, for it had givenvivid force to the duchess’s talk, but it wasn’t the main problem.
He actually looked uncomfortable, almost guilty. “I’m sorry for itthen. At the time it seemed necessary, but it was not good of me,regardless of your ...” He took a careful breath. “I won’t do that again,Elizabeth. You have my word.”
Beth was aware of a mixture of hope and disappointment. “You won’ttouch me there again?”
“You know that’s not what I mean.”
He seemed to be once again implying she had vast knowledge of men. “AllI know, my lord,” she snapped, “is that you had better keep your hands toyourself until I am legally obliged to endure your loathsome maulings!”With that Beth stalked away, ignoring the muttered curse behind her,nerves twitching for fear of attack.
He let her go, however, and over the next few days Beth was allowed tohide away between events without his interference.
Then one day she found herself carelessly alone in a carriage with themarquess as they returned from a visit to the village school. They hadgone with the duke and duchess, but the marquess’ parents had accepted aninvitation to take tea with the vicar. It was only as she realized theconsequences that Beth thought it might have been a deliberatemaneuver.
The marquess lounged back ? if he was feeling any irritation of thenerves it wasn’t obvious, thought Beth waspishly ? and looked at the giftthe children had presented to them. It was a carefully polished board witha design made of brass nails. It had the de Vaux coat of arms and theinitials E and L. “Do you have any idea what we are supposed to do withthat?” he asked lazily.
“Hang it over the door, perhaps?” she suggested, knowing full well thede Vaux arms were carved in granite over the main door of Belcraven.
“Or over our bed?”
Beth couldn’t help a start.
“There you go again,” he said. “We are going to have to deal with thisone of these days, you know.”
Beth could feel her color flare. She glanced nervously at the coachmanand groom. “I am naturally nervous,” she muttered.
“Or worried about what I will discover.”
Beth stared at him. Was that what he thought? “You promised never tomention that again.”
He met her eyes. “I apologize then. But your reactions argue a verystrange state of mind. I am bound to be suspicious.”
Beth looked again at the servants. Did he know they couldn’t hear sucha soft-voiced conversation, or did he just, with de Vaux arrogance, notcare? She couldn’t let his insinuations go unchallenged. “You mightsuspect,” she hissed, “that I am suffering from normal maidenlymodesty.”
