Authors: Elizabeth Thornton
"All in good time, my dear," responded Ravensworth, his eyes growing cold. "What do you think? Adele has got up a number of people for a house party at her estate in Kent. They leave tomorrow and we have been invited to join them. I had told you, as I recall, that we are near neighbors? The idea has much to recommend it. London is out of the question for the present. Your scrapes there will not be forgotten for some time to come. Bath has neither the allure of the big city nor the rural attractions of the true countryside. For the present, I collect that Kent will suit us very well."
He had been on the point of refusing Adele's invitation, but
Briony's
cutting words and smoldering expression of hostility had goaded him into retaliation.
The angle of
Briony's
chin elevated a trifle, and she regarded Ravensworth with that cool disdain which he found so irritating. "I like Bath, and wish to remain with my cousin. Her company is all that I require."
Ravensworth's jaw hardened. "
Tch
,
tch
, my lady wife," he returned smoothly. "I think you have done enough damage to the frail reputation of poor Harriet. I collect her parents will be happy to see her removed from your influence for a month or two. We go to Kent and there is an end of it." He turned his back on her and gave his attention to Adele, a gesture calculated to wound his intractable wife.
Briony's
hands flew to her mouth. He had injured her where she was most vulnerable. It was too much. She gave a stifled cry and turned on her heel to run back the way she had come. She heard Ravensworth call her name but ignored it. Lady Adele's startled laugh hung on the air at her back. To marry such a rake-shame bounder had been the worst mistake of her life, but she would correct it. She would sue for an annulment, she thought wildly.
She met no one she knew as she made her exit from the Gardens and quickened her footsteps along
Pulteney
Street to Laura Place. As she reached the front door, she was momentarily startled by the sudden explosion of fireworks as they arced overhead. "Paltry squibs!" she muttered brokenly as the door opened to admit her, and she ran convulsed for breath upstairs to her room. She locked the door with unsteady fingers and leaned against it. Ravensworth had been assigned a room along the corridor, but there was no connecting door to their chambers. He would have to break down the door to get to her. I hope he enjoys his wedding
night,
she thought bitterly and, throwing herself upon the bed, cried her heart out.
His lordship could have gladly choked the life out of Briony when he came home after a fruitless search of Sydney Gardens to find her safely locked in her chamber. He had stormed and thundered outside her door but Briony could not be induced to turn the key to permit him to enter. Her muffled threats of seeking an annulment of their marriage, hurled defiantly at him through the protection of the stout door, had him in a paroxysm of anger. When he saw that he was getting nowhere and was moreover attracting the servants' curiosity, he flung into his own room in a flaming temper and threw himself into a chair.
How
dare she
thwart him like this, he asked himself over and over again. He had it in his power to crush her, to cut her off from Society, to send her to oblivion if he had a mind to. What did it take to convince the unruly, hot-at-hand
damsel, that
it was in her best interests to show a more tractable disposition to her lord? She had cheated him of what he had intended to be a glorious night of love. Damn the woman! She ought to be, at this minute, in his arms surrendering to his possession. That she had the barefaced effrontery to threaten him with an annulment of their unconsummated marriage was more than he would countenance. His pride was outraged. His Marchioness would find that she was
sadly mistaken, he thought fiercely to himself, if she entertained the notion that she would prevail in this clash of wills. He would bring her to heel or his name wasn't Hugh Montgomery.
"Who is it?" asked Briony in a timid voice when the rap on her door came for the second time.
"It's Alice, miss, with your morning chocolate."
Briony let out a shuddering sigh of relief and threw back the covers of her bed. She carelessly draped her dressing gown over her shoulders and crossed the cold, uncarpeted floor to unlock the door. Ravensworth, his features set in implacable lines, brushed by her and threw her a malevolent glare. Briony cautiously eased away.
Alice set down the tray with the cup of hot chocolate, her eyes openly examining the couple who held themselves stiffly to attention. "That will be all, thank you, Alice," said Ravensworth, taking her firmly by the elbow and propelling her out of the room. He shut the door on the curious maid and turned the key in the lock.
Briony meantime had thrust her arms roughly into her dressing gown and belted it tightly around her. She pulled herself up to all of her sixty-four inches and faced Ravensworth with a show of confidence she was far from feeling. With the greatest effort, she controlled the tremor in her voice when she addressed him. "I meant what I said last night, Ravensworth," she told him before he could begin to berate her. "I shall ask my uncle to procure an annulment of the marriage." A note of rancor crept into her voice. "I have no wish to deprive Lady Adele of her just reward for services rendered."
Ravensworth's eyes hardened as he looked steadily at her. "I am not going to apologize for past history, Briony," he said tersely. "Adele never meant anything to me. Her place in my life, if one could call it a place, was negligible. You are my wife and I am here to discuss your future."
The sight of the crumpled bedclothes and
Briony's
disheveled appearance were beginning to have an effect on him. He stifled the sudden desire to take her in his arms. He had decided that his bride needed a firm hand, and he was determined not to waver.
"You will observe that we are alone in a locked room," he went on with a menacing expression. Briony licked her dry lips and Ravensworth smiled grimly to see it. His voice dropped to a whisper. "One more ill-advised word from you about an annulment, madam wife, and I shall proceed to consummate our marriage in such a manner that you will wish you had never thwarted my claims upon you. Do you take my meaning?"
Briony did and retreated with as much dignity as she could muster to the other side of the bed, watching him warily.
"Good, I see that you do." His voice was like silk. "I want your word, Briony, that there will be no more foolish talk of an annulment. You know the alternative."
Briony was silent but thinking furiously. It was not the time or place, she thought, suppressing her rising resentment, to come to points with a Ravensworth who looked as if he would do murder at the slightest provocation.
"Do I have your word?" he asked in a voice edged with steel. He took a step toward her and Briony quickly nodded in dumb assent.
When he took her chin in his hand, she schooled her gaze to an expression of indifference, but when his thumb traced the outline of her lips in a slow, sensual gesture, she slid her eyes away to hide the unsettling effect his touch had on her.
He released her abruptly and moved away to stare out of the window. "Briony," he tried in a more conciliatory note. "Don't try my patience too far, and don't argue with me. For once in your life, just listen and say nothing. We leave for Kent in one hour. I shall send Alice to you to help you pack." He seemed to hesitate then went on firmly. "My decision had nothing to do with Adele's house party. It is based solely on self-interest." When he finally turned to look at her, Briony was sure that she saw a softening in his expression. "Perhaps I rushed you into marriage before you had time to accustom yourself to the idea. We need a period of grace away from everybody, some peace and quiet where we can come to know each other." He waited for Briony to make some overture but she stood passively, her crystal-clear eyes regarding him with a somber expression. "
Dammit
Briony, can't you come halfway to meet me?" he demanded, his voice vibrant with emotion.
"Adele?" she questioned softly, trying to keep the reproach out of her voice, wanting to believe the words he was telling her. "If we go to Kent, will it not be necessary to receive her and—"
"Of course I can't cut her," Ravensworth interrupted with rising exasperation. "Why should I? She has done nothing to offend me and we are neighbors. It would create an impossible situation. People will be watching us. I have no intention of giving them something to gloat over. There's nothing better they would like than to see my wife and my— Adele," he amended quickly, "come to points like dogs haggling over some bone. Can't you see that it is your indifference, your handling of the situation, which will take the wind out of their sails? Anything less will set their vicious tongues wagging, and I have no desire to become a laughingstock, the butt of every tasteless jest of lay-about
fribbles
who have nothing better to do with their time."
Briony's
spine straightened as she faced him. She had caught his quick correction and knew that he had been on the point of saying "mistress." "You ask too much, sir," she replied with quiet dignity. Their eyes held, gray eyes flashing with indomitable resistance and blue freezing to ice with unyielding resolve. An angry flush darkened Ravensworth's saturnine features.
"Nevertheless, in this you
will
obey me, Briony." He
turned on his heel and strode to the door. She heard the rattle of the key as he unlocked it. "If you are not ready in one hour," he flung over his shoulder, "I shall personally see to your dressing and carry you off as you are." She waited a moment or two until she heard his footsteps retreating down the landing, but when she went to lock the door behind him, she found that he had taken the key.
One hour later saw them embark on their journey in the same coach that had brought them from London to Bath. It was a strained farewell, although
Briony's
relatives had no way of knowing what had taken place the previous evening. That something was amiss, they could tell by Ravensworth's dark looks at his bride. Briony, however, conducted herself as naturally as possible under the circumstances, courteously inviting them all to visit when they had concluded their stay in Bath. When it came time for the cousins to take leave of each other, Harriet hugged Briony fiercely to her. Briony managed a few whispered, breathless words in Harriet's ear which she was careful to conceal from the assembled company. "Find a way to come to Kent as soon as ever you can."
Harriet held Briony at arm's length and by the briefest inclination of her head showed that the message had been received and understood. All that remained was for Briony to entrust a letter for her brother to her uncle, for Vernon must be
apprised
of what had so recently transpired. That she had also urgently invited Vernon in rather hysterical terms to present himself in Kent at the earliest opportunity, she forbore to mention to her stern-faced husband.
Her eyes flickered to his impassive face as he handed her into the carriage. She had been forced to marry Ravensworth as a matter of conscience. She had never pretended to be other than she was. If he thought he could change her into some passive, prettily behaved, mindless creature, he would soon learn his error.
The day after Ravensworth had spirited away his bride to his estate in Kent saw a decorous and somewhat dispirited Miss Grenfell taking a turn with Lord Avery in the splendor of Sydney Gardens. To a casual observer, the couple gave
every evidence
of being in perfect charity with each other, but to the more discriminating it would have been remarked that Harriet and Avery spoke only in commonplaces when they spoke at all. His lordship's manner was gravely courteous, but his companion, usually so outgoing and vivacious, was very much on her dignity. When his lordship requested the lady to seat herself on a bench overlooking one of the fountains, she consented with a show of formal civility.
Avery removed his curly-brimmed beaver and ran a nervous hand through his neatly brushed locks. The resulting disarray of brown hair shot through with gold gave the gentleman a decidedly raffish air. Harriet quickly averted her eyes, which had been drinking in Avery's boyish good looks. Fortunately, at that moment, the gentleman was unsmiling, for Avery's habitual, self-deprecating grin was, in Harriet's opinion, irresistible and Harriet had every intention of resisting his lordship.
Avery turned to regard the silent lady through the veil of his thick lashes. The air of injured innocence which Harriet assumed whenever she became aware that his eyes were on her,
which
was frequently, she wore like an encompassing cloak to conceal her person from his prying eyes. He had suffered her to keep him at arm's length by this ruse on more occasions than he cared to remember. Lord Avery's patience was wearing thin. He summoned up the remnants of his courage and put his fate to the touch.
"Harriet, I don't wish for a long betrothal," began Avery in his usual, soft-spoken manner.
"What betrothal?" asked his companion in what his lordship thought was a rather churlish tone of voice for one who looked so devastatingly
pretty.
He regarded her calmly for a moment or two as if considering how best to manage such a temperamental filly.