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Authors: Mary Balogh

BOOK: Tangled
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"It sounds like a good idea," he said. "I will leave you to organize it, Rebecca.''

"I plan to visit the school tomorrow," she said. "It is under your patronage, David? I want to see if it has all the necessary supplies and if it is equipped to take more pupils if I can persuade more parents to send their children. Mrs. Appleby told me that it is poorly attended."

"Rebecca," he said, "I wish to speak to you about these plans for renovation." He set a hand on top of the pile of her lists.

Her eyes rested on his hand for a moment before she got to her feet, apparently in some agitation. "David," she said, "I can't ... I know it was why you needed a wife. I know it was why you married me. And I promised." He heard her draw breath and expel it. "Well, I

144Mary Balogh

married you and now you are my husband. What is your will, then? What have you decided?'' She turned and sat down quietly again.

He felt some of the dread and tension ease from his body. He might have known. Of course, she was Rebecca. He might have known.

"Which items on these lists are absolutely necessary?" he asked.

She clasped her hands in her lap. He could see the whiteness of her knuckles. She thought for several moments. "The chimneys need sweeping," she said. "It seems to be generally agreed among the servants that there is danger of a fire in them if they are not swept soon. Mrs. Matthews should have seen to it before now."

He waited for more but she seemed to have finished.

"It must be done immediately, then," he said. "Before winter. You will see to it?"

"Yes, David." She looked up into his eyes.

"Those cottages have to be made habitable before winter sets in,"

he said.

She nodded.

"And their wages need to be raised so that they can buy wholesome food," he said. "They cannot rely wholly on charity from the house."

"No," she said. "I was a little concerned about that. I thought they might come to resent me if I arrive too often with baskets. I understand that people's pride is sometimes more important to them than comfort."

"And I am going to have to reduce the rents," he said. "To last year's levels at first, I think. And more later if it is possible. I am going to have to help with outstanding repairs."

"Yes," she said.

He looked away from her and stared down broodingly at the pile of neatly penned plans and estimates. "I brought you here under false pretenses, Rebecca," he said. "I offered you a secure life of luxury as my viscountess. I offered to allow you to create that luxury for yourself.''

“I do not remember the word
luxury
being used,'' she said.

"Did it not go without saying?" he asked. "I warned

Tangled145

you of the shabbiness of Stedwell, but I promised that it would be only temporary.''

"I married you so that there would be a sense of purpose in my life," she said. "I think I am getting far more than I bargained for, David. My duties as your viscountess are threatening to quite overwhelm me. I have more enthusiasm for the future than I thought it would be possible to have ever again."

He raised his eyes to hers once more. "There just will not be the money for all the work of restoration if I am to set right the wrong of years with my people," he said. "Not at present anyway. Perhaps next year."

"Besides," she said, "it would be criminal for us to be seen setting up a life of luxury when your dependents are barely subsisting, David.

I have never particularly thought of it before. It is rather criminal, isn't it?"

"We must live the life we were born to," he said. "And try to do it at peace with our consciences."

"But we might as easily have been born in one of those cottages,"

she said. "We did nothing to deserve our life of privilege, did we?"

"You will not mind, then," he said, "if we put these lists away for a while?''

She shook her head. "It is such a relief," she said. "I thought you might not understand. I am sorry, David. You do have compassion for those in your care. Thank you."

He got to his feet, embarrassed and absurdly pleased with her praise. "It must be teatime," he said. "Shall we go up? Is this the first afternoon we have had no visitors?''

"People have been very attentive," she said. "We returned those first three calls but have five more to make. We already have two dinner invitations—to the Sharps' and to Mr. Crispin's."

He set a hand at the small of her back as they left the room. She felt warm and feminine despite the restricting stays she wore. Such dispassionate touches were all he had allowed himself of her in several days—since that disastrous night when she had walked into his waking nightmare, in fact. He offered her his arm when they reached the staircase.

146 Mary Balogh
It was an enormous relief to know that she had accepted his decisions concerning Stedwell. He had been very much afraid that he would have to deal with sullen-ness at best, tantrums at worst. And yet his fears seemed absurd now. He could not imagine Rebecca either sullen or in tantrums,

She was the perfect lady. The perfect lady of the manor.

It was the reason he had made the sofa in the library his bed for the last three nights. Although he had apologized to her and made his peace with her, he could neither forgive himself nor trust himself close to her again. He had used her to punish his own conscience.

Give me some of what you used to give Julian.
He could still hear himself saying the words. He could not rid his mind of them. They had never yet invaded his dreams, but they were there like a constant nightmare in his waking mind.

He was still jealous of Julian. He would never put his ghost to rest.

And he could not after all be contented with only what she was able to give. She gave that— without hesitation or complaint. Even when he had assaulted her so cruelly she had given her body without shrinking.

But it was not enough. He had fooled himself ever to think that it would be. His father had seen it, but he had refused to. He had wanted her so badly that he would have taken her on any terms. And of course he had needed to marry her, to offer her the protection of a married name and a home.

He was glad at least that they seemed to be in harmony over their duties as lord and lady of Stedwell. That was one small comfort in a largely comfortless existence. But he knew that there could never be anything more personal between them. If he was to put her interests first— and for a long time it had been the focus of his life to do that—then he must give her the comfort of a home of her own and all the activities that went with it but leave her to her memories of a perfect, love-filled marriage. Perhaps he owed Julian the ultimate victory. Perhaps. Though he always felt an impotent sort of fury when he thought of how fickle Julian's love had been.

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They conversed during tea, as they always did, like polite and not unfriendly strangers. He let his eyes feast on her as they talked—the only part of him that he would now allow to do so. He had always been fascinated by her very disciplined deportment. Her spine never touched the back of any chair on which she sat but was always ramrod straight. The high-necked bodice of her dress molded her corseted figure and ended at a small waist. Corsets must be dreadfully uncomfortable, he thought, and were quite unnecessary. Whose idea had it been, he wondered, to imagine that men would find a caged figure enticing?

And yet Rebecca looked enticing. Her full skirt was arranged neatly about her. Her golden hair was in its usual smooth style. He could remember how it felt spread over his bare arm, and how it smelled.

She could be incredibly voluptuous if she chose to be. But then, of course, she would not be Rebecca. It was her very discipline and neatness and even primness that he had always loved.

He had tried so hard to impress her during his boyhood. But Julian had kept on doing thoughtless and sometimes even cruel things, and it had been impossible to break the childhood habit of taking the blame himself so that his father would not turn Julian off—foolish child that he had been ever to have feared that that might happen.

And so she had never been impressed with him. Perhaps he should have done things differently from the start, been more concerned with his own reputation and future prospects. But then he could not go back. It was useless to wish that he could.

They had fallen silent without his even realizing it until he saw her flush and her cup rattled slightly against the saucer as she set it down.

"David," she said, "I should have thought of it in your study earlier when you asked. Perhaps there is one other matter that is urgently in need of doing."

"Yes?" he said.

"Perhaps we should have a new mattress purchased for my chamber," she said. "I have already instructed Mrs. Matthews to throw the other one out. I would be

148 Mary Balogh
able to move into my own room if it were replaced. Would it be too much of an expense at the moment?''

"You have a room," he said. "The master bedchamber."

"But it is yours," she said. She hesitated. "Where have you been sleeping? Have you made sure that the bed is well aired?"

He got to his feet. "It does not matter where I have been sleeping,"

he said. "In the library actually. I do not need much sleep. I am restless at night. And I often have bad dreams. I'll have Mrs.

Matthews prepare another room for me. Perhaps you would care to see to it?"

She had stood up too. "Yes," she said quietly. Again the hesitation.

"David, have I done something to displease you?'' -

He closed his eyes briefly. Yes, she would see it that way. She did not enjoy sex—with him. She found it repugnant although she had denied doing so. He had felt her steeling herself for the ordeal. And yet she saw it as her duty to provide him access to her body for his pleasure. She had probably been brought up to see that as her most important marriage duty.

"Nothing," he said, forcing himself to walk toward her. "Nothing at all, Rebecca."

"If I have," she said, "please tell me. I did not mean to upset you the other night. I thought perhaps it would help you to talk. It won't happen again, David. Now that I know you prefer to be left alone, I will not interfere. I know that sometimes it is hard to adjust one's life to the loss of privacy that marriage brings. Marriage is not easy. I can understand that sometimes you would rather be alone. I am trying to learn your ways and your preferences as quickly as I can."

"And I have no obligation to learn yours?" His voice was harsher than he had intended it to be.

She bit her lip.

"Marriage is all give by the wife and all take by the husband?" he said. "It makes for a very smooth relationship, I suppose, and a very satisfactory existence for the man."

She swallowed.

“I do not need to have you debasing yourself for my

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sake," he said. "You must have ways and preferences and opinions and feelings too, Rebecca. If you disagree with something I say, then say so. If I tread on your toes, stamp on mine. If I am angry with you, as I am now, yell back at me. Slap me. I have no business being angry with you. You have merely expressed the wish to please me."

Anger had taken him completely by surprise. There was no cause for it at all. He was quite bewildered by it. It seemed almost that the very qualities for which he had always loved her—her quiet, ladylike submissiveness— were now causing him fury. He wanted her angry with him. He deserved her anger. Perhaps he would feel better if she lashed back at him.

Better about what?

"You have always been difficult to understand, David," she said. "I knew that living with you was not going to be easy, but I thought that after I had married you and taken on the relationship of wife to you it would be a little less difficult. I would know my role and my duties and responsibilities, I thought. But I seem incapable of pleasing you. I am sorry."

"You are sorry." He grabbed her wrist. "Goddammit, Rebecca.

Don't ever be sorry about anything. If it is commands you want from me, then heed that one. Don't ever be sorry. You have nothing to be sorry about.''

"I think," she said quietly, "that you are carrying around terrible demons inside you, David. But I cannot ask what they are. You find it impossible to reveal yourself to anyone else, don't you? Least of all to me."

"Why least of all to you?" He released her wrist.

"Because I was Julian's wife," she said, "and you cannot stop blaming yourself for his death, can you? You cannot stop thinking that there must have been some way you could have saved him. I know now why you married me. It puzzled me since you could have waited for love. You might have had almost any woman you wanted.

But you married me because you felt guilty about Julian. You thought you owed him something. You thought you owed me something."

His face was turning cold as if all the blood were draining out of his head. The air he breathed in felt icy.

150
Mary Balogh

"Well, it is an accomplished fact now," she said. "You have paid your imagined debt to both Julian and me. We are married. Julian is dead and you and I are married, David. If you do not like having a wife who is determined to live up to her duties, I am sorry. I cannot change to the extent that you ask. I cannot learn to answer you back or to fight with you. I can only be what I have been brought up to be."

God. Oh, God!

"You were a dutiful wife to Julian," he said.

"Yes, I tried."

"And are now a dutiful wife to me."

"Yes, I am trying."

"With one essential difference," he said.

She bit her lip again. "Don't David," she said, her voice pleading.

"Please don't. We have been married only a week, but I have held nothing back from you. I am not brooding on the past. The past is gone. I want to be a good wife."

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