She gave a gasp, and went still, her gaze catching on his. “What did you say?”
“You had some sort of encounter, did you not? What man was involved?”
Rosina backed away, looking up at him with sudden fierceness in her black eyes. “How — involved?”
Raith paused. That had been foolish. He wanted to pursue the subject, but the change in her dictated caution. More in that strain, and he would alienate her utterly. He felt his breath release and only now realised he had been holding it in, along with the raw need within him. His voice came out ragged.
“I meant nothing untoward. Not on your part.”
Rosina’s heart squeezed tight in her chest. He was suspicious! How could he think it? But of course he could. She had known how it must be, which is why she had been careful to conceal it all. Men could not be trusted in the matter of the honour of their women. Mama had taught her that, when she was preparing her for, as she then thought, a normal married life to be looked forward to. The least hint of lightness would arouse a demon of jealousy. Men, Mama had said, might be as unchaste as they pleased — had not Raith even spoken to her of his amorous adventures when he had talked of the effect of his scar upon women? — but their wives must be beyond reproach. Nevertheless, the intimation that he thought it, even if he believed her innocent of blame, hurt her so much that, in that moment, she hated him.
All at once she recalled how he had put her from him. Not physically, but mentally, earlier in this dreadful discussion. The barrier was now explained. He thought her impure, and he would not touch her. There was nothing she could say. It mattered little what she said, if she were to try to explain. Without proof, he would never believe her.
She looked at him, a dead feeling entering her bosom. “Well, you have made up your mind, I suppose.”
About her guilt, Rosina meant. But Raith took it differently. Yes, he had made up his mind. There was no escaping the burden. No matter her fears, she would have to face the inevitable.
“I will take you to Banbury tomorrow. It is the nearest large town, and there are one or two modistes from whom you may purchase gowns a trifle closer to current fashion.”
Her gaze burned at him. When she spoke, the note of sarcasm was rife. “You command me, my lord. I must obey.”
Upon which, she walked out of the room, leaving Raith prey to a rise of resentment. Whether he was more furious with Rosina or himself, he did not know. How he had bungled it! Had he not guessed how it would be? All his careful plans for nothing. He had drawn Rosina’s enmity.
The chaise bowled comfortably along the road to Banbury, for the lack of rain had left the ground dry. It was a dull day, and if only things had been different between them, Rosina would have been glad to be travelling in a closed carriage rather than her husband’s phaeton when driving would have offered him enough distraction not to notice how she did. As it was, she could feel him simmering beside her, but in her present mood she refused to care. The expected protest came.
“Is it your intention to hold to this attitude indefinitely?”
Rosina did not answer, maintaining her fixed gaze out of the window, but her rebellion gave voice in her head. He could make her come with him, but he could not make her speak. How dared he complain of her “attitude”? What of those days when he had withdrawn into his ice castle, refusing to deal her more than polite civility? Let him now have a taste of his own medicine.
“It is of no use to sulk, Rosina.”
Oh, and had he not sulked? With what unmitigated injustice had he not taken himself out of her orbit for an offence he could only have imagined? Rosina could not forgive him for the unspoken accusation, for condemning her, for his lack of faith. Most of all, for withdrawing without the slightest attempt to communicate with her. If he had been gentle, open with her, tried to win her trust, she might have told him all. Instead, he had bombarded her with question. Now he complained of her silence. Could he not see that she was too hurt and angry to converse with him?
“Rosina, I warn you, I will not endure this. You forget yourself!”
It was too much. She turned on him, rage building. “Do your w-worst, sir! I care not.”
“You will care soon enough, I promise you, if I have much more of this.”
She threw him a flashing glare. “Are you threatening me, my lord? What will you do, b-beat me?”
“Don’t tempt me!”
“It is no more than I would expect!”
Raith’s gaze burned, and he seized her wrist. “I have done nothing to deserve that from you.”
A choked sob escaped her, and she dragged her wrist from his hold. She stifled the onset of tears, clutching her fingers together in her lap. Husky, she spoke without looking at him. “The rules have changed, my lord.”
He was silent for a space, and Rosina struggled for control. When he spoke again, his tone was a good deal less harsh.
“How so?”
Rosina’s fury dulled, leaving a dead weight in her chest. She wanted to say that he had forfeited her esteem, and therefore she had no longer any desire or purpose to be the conformable wife for which he had advertised. But she could not make her tongue say such words to him. Already she had wounded him by an undeserved rebuke. Better to say nothing. But if she again relapsed into silence, he would only provoke her out of it. She found a distraction and used it.
“How much of my allowance am I permitted to spend, sir?”
He apparently accepted the change of subject. “The expense will not come from your allowance. You will need whatever it takes to create the right impression. Do not stint, and tell the modiste to send the bills to me.”
Rosina instantly resolved to spend as little as possible.
