Page 68 of An Inconvenient Vow

“I think you were wise.”

Meliora looked amused. “You think love would have withered in his bosom?” she asked dryly.

“I know it would have!” Sabina retorted. “It would for any sensible man.”

“Dear me, you think your husband sensible, do you? Not the word I would have used for him.”

Sabina felt herself bristle all over at this implied criticism of Jeffree. The gods alone knew why, but it seemed she did not like anyone to criticize him but her! She finished her glass and rose to her feet. “Thank you for the interview,” she said politely. “I believe I must be on my way now.”

Meliora blinked. “You do not wish to know if I release him?” she asked archly.

“No, you were right. It does not make a scrap of difference.” She gazed at Meliora for a long moment. “I am pleased to have met you though,” she admitted, for Sabina had been harboring wholly the wrong impression of her in her mind’s eye. She nodded, then she made resolutely for the door.

“And I, you,” Meliora called after her, still sounding mildly entertained. “Send him back into me and—”

Sabina slammed the door shut behind her, cutting off the other woman’s request. Jeffree was awaiting her on a bench in the outer sanctum. He leaped to his feet as she walked briskly past him.

“Sabina? Where are you—?”

She did not answer but instead hastened her steps toward the large, studded door which she knew to be the way out of the abbey. When she struggled with the unfamiliar latch, he reached around her to pull back the bolt and together they emerged into the night air. Sabina marched straight-backed across the courtyard.

She was a jumble of emotions, all of which needed to be brought back under control or she would make a fool of herself. Jeffree’s gaze was heavy upon her as they made their way back to the stable and reclaimed their horses and afterward during their ride to the village. Though neither one of them spoke, their unsaid words seemed to hang heavy in the air.

Sabina rode blindly; it did not matter in any case since Blitha was clearly being led by the larger horse’s direction and Jeffree obviously knew where he was going. Sabina bit her lip. He had mentioned a previous visit to Fulford Abbey. Was it a regular pilgrimage then? She had no notion why that thought should make her eyes sting.

She thought of Meliora’s rich, deep laughter and felt her stomach turn over. Such a woman would not have suited him as a wife, she told herself again swallowing. They would have been the most loathed couple in Ganfordshire with their insufferably arrogant ways. Then again, Jeffree did not exactly care that other folk thought him proud and arrogant. Likely he would not care if his wife suffered from the same conceit. Maybe she would have suited him after all. There was an acrid feeling in the pit of her stomach.

In vain, she told herself that Jasper and Crispin would not have liked Meliora for a sister-in-law. Lady Maud would likely have approved of someone so majestic and Sir Dudley, she suspected, generally just agreed with his wife. What of Jeffree’s uncle? she wondered a moment. Doubtless, someone as proper and dignified as Lady Meliora would have been duly deferential of the duke and would never dream of criticizing his fussy ways.

Sir Charles, of course, would have loved for his godson to marry a human glacier. He thought the Burrell females wholly beneath him.

“Sabina!” Jeffree barked her name, and she realized they had come to a halt beside a tall shadowy building. “We are here.”

She glanced up and down at the building and then saw Osborn had slouched into the yard to greet them. He looked sulky as always and avoided her eye. She did not care. Jeffree handed the reins to his manservant and reached up for her. She did not want his help. It was true that climbing down from his charger was well-nigh impossible, but Blitha was quite a different matter.

“I can manage,” she told him stiffly and was ignored, seized, and set down on her feet. Once there, he grabbed her arm above the elbow and held her anchored to his side as he exchanged a few words with Osborn. Sabina did not listen, and once he was done, Jeffree propelled her into the dimly lit building and dragged her up two flights of stairs and down a dark corridor where he flung open the door to their room.

Someone squawked and two serving maids looked up in alarm from the supper they were setting out on a small square table. Jeffree ignored them and jostled her into the room. Sabina flung his arm off as soon as they were inside and moved toward the window.

“Leave now!” Jeffree barked at the servants who were eyeing her with open curiosity. Sabina rolled her eyes. He really was insufferable.

One of the maids curtsied. “If you please, sir, your bath lies in yonder corner.” She and Jeffree turned to glance at the tub that had been set up in the far corner of the room. “Will your own servant see to your needs?” she asked with a quick look at Sabina. “Or will ye be needing any assistance with it?”

Sabina closed her eyes briefly and braced herself for the sharp words of correction that would surely follow, but Jeffree said nothing and there was a heavy pause. For some reason, Sabina felt a hot color climbing up her neck. Good thing her wimple was so severe no one would see it. He was going to demean her, she realized at once, to teach her a lesson for going about in her own shabby clothes. He would let them think she was his servant to teach her a lesson.

Sabina tightened her fingers in her skirts and let her face go perfectly blank. She had faced worse humiliation than this in her life; why then did it send such a scalding sensation all down her spine?

Jeffree turned toward her slowly. “Will you require any assistance with your bath, my lady?” he asked with a heavy formality that made her blink and forget to breathe. Oh. He did not mean to humble her. Quite the opposite. She struggled a moment with her reply, then shook her head. “Thank you, no,” she managed.

“That will be all,” Jeffree added, and both maids scurried from the room. “You had better get in the tub while the water is still warm,” he suggested without looking at her. “We don’t know how long it has sat there.” He moved to stand in front of the fire for a moment, gazing down into the flames.

Sabina crossed the room and dipped her fingers in the tub. It was warm but would not be for long. She had taken a bath the previous night and performed the arduous task of washing and drying her waist-length hair. Then again, she had spent a few hours in the saddle since then.

Glancing up at the ceiling, she saw there was no hook to hang a sheet from and preserve her modesty. Was she supposed to sit naked in the tub while Jeffree partook of his supper? She wanted to point out the lack of a curtain or screen, but that would make her sound timid. She was not, nor never had been, timid.

Inspiration struck. “You should take the tub,” she said instead. “I had a very thorough bath last night at Longacre. You have been living in a pavilion for three days, have you not? And competing in the hot sun.”

Jeffree turned to look at her. “I will take a bath later,” he said shortly, then he looked away. “I have to return to the convent,” he muttered.