Page 58 of Marrying the Wrong Earl (Lords and Ladies in Love 2)

“I’m sorry, but I must see to the animal myself. No one else knows how to stitch him up.”

Mrs. Talbot put her hand to her chest. “Lady Clarendon, certainly you are not going to tend to an injured animal yourself?” She looked as though she were about to faint.

“No, she will not.” Nash glared at her.

Arabella hesitated, then carefully laid her napkin down and stood. “I am sorry. I will return shortly.” She avoided Nash’s shocked expression as she turned and hurried from the room.

Chapter Nineteen

Later that night, Arabella quietly entered the library. The disaster of the dinner party had ended over an hour before. She had spent the time since then with Apollo, checking on his injures. Earlier, she had sewn him up and doused him with whiskey to help him sleep. It looked as though he would recover.

She had rejoined the dinner party, but Nash’s coolness and the other guests’ curiosity had made for an unpleasant finish to the event. Maybe things might have ended differently had he supported her decision.

Nash stood at the window, his back to her, sipping on a glass of brandy.

“Quinn asked that I join you?” She moved farther into the room.

He turned to face her. “Please close the door.”

Raising her chin, she did as he bid. Once the door was closed, he studied her for a minute, his hands on his hips. “Arabella, this has to stop.”

“What?”

He rubbed the back of his neck. “Ever since we married, my life has been in turmoil.” He raised his hand as she began to speak. “Please hear me out. I have dealt rather fairly, I believe, with your animal nonsense.”

A hard lump descended in Arabella’s stomach. Nash looked very serious, and his lowered voice was more reason for concern than if he’d been shouting at her.

“We currently house numerous dogs in the kennel out back that you keep telling me you will find a good home for—soon. Three more animals in various stages of recovery take up one of the bedchambers. At this rate, there will not be room for us to even live in this house.”

“I know this seems odd—”

“Stop.” He walked in a circle, his head down, and then came to stand in front of her, his hands on her shoulders. “I want this all to stop. No more taking in animals. No more surgery. I want you to behave in a manner more fitting of a countess. We need to take our place in Society, and to do that we cannot host dinner parties where the hostess disappears to perform animal surgery. It is your duty as my wife to see to the running of the household and do wife-type things.”

“Wife-type things?”

“Yes. Accept afternoon calls. Go on visits yourself. Take a ride in Hyde Park in the afternoon. Go shopping, paint watercolors, embroider things, play the pianoforte. I know you are familiar with the routine of ladies.”

“Yes. And I have always hated the routine of ladies.” She swept her hand toward the window. “Those ladies hate me. I have never been a darling of the ton, but since the entire ton believes I snatched you from Lady Grace’s clutches, I have become a pariah.”

She wiped a tear from her eye. “The one time I enjoyed myself at a ball, we ended up arguing with each other. At the soiree, I fainted, which I am sure has made the rounds of gossips.” She threw her hands out. “Why can’t you see I don’t belong here?”

…

Nash stared at her, finally realizing with a sinking feeling that this marriage would never work. He had a position to maintain. Already, word was spreading that his wife was less than a proper countess, and he’d been forced to ignore snide remarks in the halls of Parliament about him running an animal welfare home. In fact, much to his horror, his credibility on a bill he was sponsoring had been questioned.

He’d spent all his life doing the proper thing. Not for him had been the wild life of a young noble. Once finished with University, he’d been discreet with his mistresses, never dallied with a married woman, gambled very little, avoided reckless races in the park at dawn, and rarely drank to excess.

He’d wanted a wife who would do all the things he’d just laid out. And do them with joy. Instead, he had a wife who despised Society, had no intention of taking her place among them, and was only happy when she was up to her elbows in animal blood and chaos. They were too far apart in their way of thinking.

“Then it appears we are at a standstill, my dear,” his tone mirrored the sadness in his heart.

She picked up on his tone and echoed it. “So it seems.”

The silence was overwhelming. And sad. Hopefully, the child she carried was a male child, and once the heir was born, they could live their separate lives. His heart twisted with the picture he had of his life. Lonely, frustrating, and empty. Despite a separation, he would not break his marriage vows. But how could he continue his life with the constant barrage of turmoil and the humiliation of his wife’s behavior? It did not suit him.

“If you wish to retire to the country, I will arrange to have the staff at Clarendon Manor notified of your arrival.” He choked on the words.

“My arrival?” The surprise in her voice told him she did not understand what he meant.