“I have no intention of applying to you,” she flashed. Checking herself, she bit her lip. “I b-beg your pardon.”
“You need not. I am aware that I have made it difficult for you to speak to me with any degree of ease.”
Rosina looked down at her hands, hardly conscious of her repetitious pulling at her fingers’ ends. “I brought it on myself, my lord. I overstepped the boundaries of our agreement.”
“Yes, you did, by thunder! But you know well that we have long thrown that agreement out the window.”
“I thought so, yes.”
He sighed and she almost weakened. “You need not look at me so. I have already admitted the fault was mine.”
Rosina kept her gaze steady on his. “Do you regret our marriage, Raith?”
“Not that, no!” He took a step towards her, and then checked. “It has been only a week. We must give it time.”
“Willingly, my lord. But what is the use of assigning blame, if there is to be no change?”
A slight smile creased his mouth. “That is why we are here.”
“Oh? I thought you said it was aninterview.”
There was a silence. He eyed her with a resurgence of the emotions he had been keeping in check. Those expressive eyes, with such power to move him. She could sweep him in seconds from desire, to fury, to remorse, to tenderness. She roused him in every possible way. So readily could he become her slave, if he had not so fervid a need to be her master. Yet he would have her confide in him, that he might free himself of restraint. As if he could free himself of his own chains. It would be laughable, if it were not so tragic.
“What is it you want of me, Rosy?”
It was involuntary, said with a sigh, and he did not notice how he shortened her name to a child-like endearment.
All at once, she burst out, as if she had to speak. “I want you to be yourself! I hate it when you retire into your shell. I had rather you railed at me, or threw at me your bitterest acrimony. Anything — other than treating me with this civil indifference. I know it to be a lie.”
He looked away. What would she say if he told her that it was the only way he could induce himself to keep his hands off her? Recoil, belike. If she did not, and he gave in to temptation, the very touch of her would drive him into unwise accusation. Unwise, and unfair.
“Accept my apologies,” he said as gently as he could. “I will try to do better.”
She looked defeated, infinitely vulnerable, become again the waif he had married. Inwardly he cursed, and rose, crossing to the window so that he need not see her. He spoke without turning round.
“You may have more need of funds than you know. We cannot forever avoid meeting with our neighbours, and you must prepare for it. They will soon be returning from London for the winter break. We will have to put up some kind of show together, for the sake of appearances.”
He turned on the words, and saw, with a sense of shock, that Rosina was looking deathly pale, the coal-black eyes regarding him with stunned surprise. Her lip was quivering, and her hands were so tightly clasped together in her lap that the knuckles jutted out white. Concern gripped him.
“What is the matter?”
“You said I should live retired.”
“Yes, but I did not mean without any sort of intercourse.”
“There was to be no social life.”
“That is quite impossible. A man of my rank cannot live as a hermit, especially not in the country.” He came a step or two towards her. “It will not be so very bad, Rosina. There are, unfortunately, few peers in this immediate vicinity, which means that I cannot help but attract the interest of the gentry hereabouts. Furthermore, I have put a notice of our marriage in theGazette, and—”
“Dear Lord, theGazette!”
“It is usual, you know,” he said, puzzled now. “I regret the necessity, but it had to be done.”
“Why had it to be done? Why must anyone know of it?” She sounded frantic, a rise of panic in her voice.
“What the devil is the matter, Rosina? What objection can you have to be seen to be my wife?”
“It is not that.” Her tone was tetchy now.
