The Husband Trap (9 page)

Well, he’d certainly handled it last night, Adrian thought with a rueful grimace. How could he, and Toddy’s information, have been so drastically wrong?

Mercury, his big gray gelding, danced a few steps sideways on the gravel turnpike, spooked by a covey of wood pigeons flushed from some nearby brush. Without the faintest break in concentration, Adrian reined his mount back under control, the gentle pressure of his knees against Mercury’s side enough to reassure the steed and return him to his proper forward path.

He caught Jeannette observing the tableau through the coach window. He raised a hand in greeting. She nodded in reply then lowered her eyes and turned away.

Still annoyed, he supposed, about his choice of destination. Another black mark on his slate. Though thinking upon it, he couldn’t recall her voicing a single derogatory word since the wedding about spending their honeymoon in Dorset. Odd that. Up until that point, she had done little but complain and mope. He sighed to remember her behavior. As though the canceled trip to the Continent had cast a permanent blight upon her life.

Since the wedding, however, a change seemed to have swept over her, one of unexpected serenity and acceptance. Mayhap her father had sat her down for a meaningful talk on her wedding eve. Although knowing what he did of the earl, it seemed unlikely. Wightbridge took little interest in anything other than his club, gambling and sport—the Hunt his favorite pastime. The man had never struck Adrian as a terribly involved parent. Then again, perhaps he was mistaken in that as well.

He observed Jeannette again out of the corner of his eye, watching the pretty feather that decorated her bonnet bounce as the coach rolled over a rough patch of road.

Tonight would be different, he promised himself. He would use a gentler hand with her. Try to regain some of the trust he had abused last night. She would know nothing but pleasure and fulfillment when he took her to his bed tonight.

Mortifying as it was to admit, he’d lost his usual control last night, there at the very end, in a way he had not done since he had been an innocent sprig. She had an effect upon him he could not explain. A disturbing effect. Although he had longed to awaken her with kisses this morning at dawn, to show her his reputation as an experienced, considerate lover was not an exaggeration after all, he’d known she needed to sleep more.

A virgin. He still could not believe it.

A fist of primal satisfaction clenched inside him at the knowledge, spread in a hot wash through his belly. It should not matter, such things never had before. Yet knowing he was the only man she had ever lain with made him hunger for her all the more.

And she wanted him as well. Even in her innocence, there was no disguising the passion that ran deep inside her fiery core. He would tap that heat. Coax it. Coax her. Teach her everything she needed to know and more. He smiled, greatly looking forward to the instruction to come.

His prurient thoughts had him shifting uncomfortably in the saddle, rolling his shoulders to dispel the sudden strain. He frowned and forced himself to think about something else. Something dull and tedious. Or something worrisome, such as the recent unfortunate incidents on his estate.

The unusually cool spring and wet summer they’d had in Derbyshire was causing the rivers and streams to swell and overflow their banks. Several tenant homes had been damaged in the floods, forcing families to flee and seek shelter with their more fortunate neighbors and friends. Three of his farmers had been made to look on, helpless, as their homes were swept completely away in the raging waters. Those families, with his assistance, were even now working to rebuild.

The crops in the fields suffered as well, leaving many fearful of a poor harvest come fall. Hopefully, the clear skies many were praying for would arrive soon. If not, he would see to the welfare of his people this winter. Even if he was forced to import grain to make up the shortfall.

Given that, he hadn’t felt comfortable traipsing off to the Continent, not even for his honeymoon. Jeannette would simply have to understand his responsibilities. Hers now as well since she was his duchess. They would embark on a grand tour next year. Visit all the places she most longed to see and a few more too. Until then she would have to be patient.

He rode on, their party stopping at an inn a short time later to change horses and enjoy a hearty midday meal.

Violet climbed from the coach into the bustling yard, relieved to stretch her legs and have something of a more active nature to occupy her mind. A pair of hostlers ran up to see to the horses, exchanging greetings and instructions with the coachman and footmen, who jumped to the ground.

She had been bored senseless with nothing to do but watch the blurry scenery roll past and think her own dreary thoughts. Even watching Adrian hadn’t proved as entertaining as she might have hoped. He had ridden ahead of the coach most of the journey. Nearly out of sight—especially her sight, impaired as it was. Her stomach grumbled, her breakfast of toast and tea long since gone. She would be glad of a meal.

Aware Quality had arrived, the innkeeper hustled out the front door. A beaming smile of welcome creased his spare cheeks. Tall and thin as a maypole, his bar apron wrapped double around his narrow waist over the thick leather jerkin he wore. On his head, a thatch of rust-colored hair that looked bright enough to light a fire.

“Good day to you, your Grace,” the innkeeper said. “And to your lady. Welcome to my humble establishment. I hope your journey has been a fair one so far.”

“Thank you, it has. You have a private room, as requested, do you not?”

“Of course, of course. All is ready. If you will come this way—”

At that instant, a loud crash sounded, followed by a thunderous bellow of pure rage. From the rear of the inn charged a huge black and white dog. Running fast behind him came a large man, red in the face and waving a cane. The dog would have outrun the man for sure if the animal hadn’t had the misfortune to skid on a slick patch of muddy earth at just the wrong moment. His legs slid out from under him, long enough for the man to reach out and grab his collar.

The cane came down upon the dog’s flesh with a horrifying thud. The dog let out a painful howl, shivering and cowering even as he struggled to get away. Violet didn’t pause to think, acting wholly on instinct as she raced forward. Her only thought was to prevent the abuse she saw unfolding before her. “Stop that! Stop that this instant,” she demanded.

The man ignored her and struck the dog another blow. The animal yelped, then issued a series of furious barks, showing his teeth and snapping at the hand wielding the cane.

“Try to bite me, will you?” The man raised his cane high into the air.

Oblivious to the danger, Violet reached out and wrapped a gloved hand around the base of the cane. “I said, stop.”

He turned, his eyes flashing cold as night at the unexpected interference. He shook her off as easily as a gnat. “Who the hell are you?” he roared. “Leave off. This is no concern of yours.”

He was a beefy brute of a man, the kind who likely beat women as well as animals. Fear clutched in her belly. She shivered but stood her ground, spine straight, her outrage too great for caution. “I am making it my concern. Release that dog.”

“This here bastard stole my supper, and I’ll be givin’ him exactly what he deserves, without any sass from the likes o’ you.”

“If he weren’t starving, I am sure he would not have stolen anything.” Even Violet with her less than perfect eyesight could see the terrible condition the dog was in. Sharp bones covered in taut black and white fur, painful to witness.

“He’s a thieving beast, that’s what he is. And I’ll thank you to mind your own business, woman.” He shook the cane again, waving it in her direction this time.

“And will you thank me as well?” a voice interceded, smooth and deadly as a silk-covered fist.

Chapter Six

Adrian towered over the trio of man, woman and dog, magnificent as an avenging archangel. Even the dog stopped his impassioned barking and fell quiet.

The man had the good sense to gulp. He bobbed his head. “Sorry, guv’nor, didn’t mean to offend.”

Adrian stared down the length of his nose as if he were viewing a particularly disgusting insect. “Your very existence offends. Apologize to my wife.”

The man swallowed tightly. “Your pardon, missus.”

“Your pardon,
your Grace,
” Adrian corrected in a frigid tone.

The man’s eyes widened, protruding as though they might pop right out of his head. He now sensed the importance of the personage with whom he dealt. “Your pardon, your Grace.”

“Now release that poor, unfortunate animal,” Adrian ordered.

The man hesitated for the briefest of instants, as if working up the nerve to refuse. Then, with a small pugnacious curl to his upper lip he couldn’t quite hide, he did as Adrian demanded.

The dog raced away.

“Now your cane,” Adrian said.

“My cane? What do you want with me cane?”

“Hand it over and I shall instruct you.”

Reluctantly, the man passed the cane into Adrian’s hands.

Without revealing so much as a hint of his intentions, Adrian took the cane and snapped it smartly in two over his raised knee.

The man gasped.

Jeannette goggled.

Nonchalantly, Adrian passed back the pieces. “I hope this will serve to remind you that a cane is not a weapon. Certainly not one to be used on the defenseless.”

“You broke me cane. That there cost me ten quid.”

“Far less, I suspect, than it will cost you should I decide to press charges and have you sent to the local gaol. If you say even one more word, I might change my mind and do that very thing.”

“For what? Beatin’ a dumb beast?”

“For threatening the safety of the Duchess of Raeburn. Although I would press the matter of the dog as well, if I believed the law would punish you sufficiently. Now be gone, and don’t show your face around here again.”

The man flushed and opened his mouth as if he might offer a further protest. Then he seemed to think better of it, turned on his heel and stalked away.

The innkeeper rushed forward, wringing his hands. “Oh, your Grace, I am most profoundly sorry for this unfortunate incident. Nothing of this sort has ever happened before at my establishment. I’ll see to it he receives no additional service from me.”

Adrian inclined his head.

“The man’s trouble,” the innkeeper continued. “A soldier, from what I hear, recently sold out. Has a mean temper. I suppose the war turned him hard.”

“Perhaps.” The brutality of war could damage even the best of men. Adrian had seen it firsthand, seen men’s minds twist and crack beneath the grim, unrelenting horror of battle. Even he’d suffered through his own share of nightmares and troubled memories over the years.

“Still,” he stated aloud, “it’s no excuse for whipping a defenseless animal, no matter what the man’s difficulties may be.”

“No indeed,” the innkeeper agreed.

Adrian turned, intending to speak to his wife. Only she was no longer beside him. Surprised and not a little concerned, he set his hands on his hips and scanned the yard.
What sort of danger has she decided to thrust herself into now?

He found her easily enough, near the stables, where the dog had taken refuge. One of the stable boys—a lad of eleven, perhaps twelve—was trying to prod the animal out from behind a hay cart using the bristle end of a broom. The dog, hunched into a defensive, cowering ball, was having none of it.

“I’ll get him, milady,” the stable lad chirped in an eager voice.

“Please, stop. You’re only scaring him more than he already is.” She bent down, showing an unexpected disregard for any ruin that might come to her elegant attire, apparently interested only in reaching the terrified animal. She murmured soft words, low and soothing. “It’s all right now, love. No one is going to hurt you. No, no, they are not going to hurt you anymore.”

The dog didn’t move but he did stop trembling. His amber eyes moved upward to meet her own.

“That’s right. Come now. Come to me, boy. You’ll be fine.”

“Jeannette,” Adrian said, his voice quiet, even, yet carrying an underlying edge of steel. “What do you think you are doing? That dog is injured, abused. If you are not careful, he will bite you.”

“Oh, he won’t bite me. He is a sweet dog. Are you not a sweet dog?” she crooned to the animal. “Yes, you are.” She stretched out a hand, fingers curled to show the canine she posed no threat.

“Jeannette!” Adrian moved to pull her away but she evaded him, leaning farther in.

The dog sniffed, catching her scent. Slowly, he snaked out a warm, pink tongue and licked the top of her hand.

“See,” she said, “he’s fine. He’s a good boy.”

The dog’s tail thumped in a friendly wave. Up and down against the hard, dusty ground beneath him. He continued to bathe her hand, nuzzling his cold black nose into her relaxed, open palm. Then slowly he rose to his feet, slender dappled tail wagging like a black and white flag of truce. He walked out from behind the cart to huddle against Jeannette’s skirts.