What Rumours Don't Say (3 page)

            “No, my lord,” she acceded. “Though I have a few requests.”

            “Requests?” His eyebrows arched, his expression a mixture of curiosity and impatience.

            “Yes, my lord,” she said, steeling herself. If it was to be a marriage of convenience, she might as well make it as convenient as possible for herself. “First, I would like to be treated an equal as much as possible when we are in private.”

            “An equal?”

            “I do dislike condescending talk, my lord,” she explained. “I have always believed myself to be a woman of strength and intellect and I would prefer for you to treat me as such. In fact, I do not mind at all if you consult me on some business matters, just as my father did.”

            “We have already established that your father was a most unusual man,” Reeve said. “I would appreciate it if you did not liken me to him.”

            She paid him little heed. “Also, I understand that married men are not averse to keeping mistresses. I would not mind at all if you did – or perhaps I would not mind as much – but I would like to know, my lord, for I despise being made a fool of as much as I do being looked down on.”

            “Rest assured, my lady I have no intention of keeping a mistress,” Reeve said solemnly.

            “I see,” Axelle said, feeling relieved for some unknown reason. “And finally, my lord I would like to be free to choose my own reading materials. Since I started living with my uncle, that freedom has been curtailed, and I should so like to have it back.”

            “I imagine you would.”

            “Oh, and I would like to have your assistance, my lord, in procuring the rest of my father’s books. They are quite valuable.”

            “I’ve already ascertained as much,” he answered. “And I have no qualms in lending you my assistance. In fact, I would prefer that you leave the matter to my hands entirely, seeing as your devices are quite unreliable.”

            “I would have you know, my lord, that before this last…blunder, I was able to secure the other books just fine,” she pointed out.

            “Very well, you may continue to check with the bookshops and make negotiations,” Reeve said. “But I will not stand for picking locks or any of the sort.”

            “I assure you, my lord, I have no wish to go through such an experience ever again,” Axelle said. “Speaking of which, my lord, what were you doing in Lord Elmsmoor’s study?”

            “Suffice it to say that it was a matter of business,” Reeve said.

            “I see.” Axelle scrunched her nose at the curt explanation.

            “Is that all?”

            Axelle looked at him and nodded. “Yes, my lord. I believe that is all.”

            “And if I refuse?”

            “I would have you know, my lord, that I can be a very difficult woman.”

            “I can verily imagine how you can make life hell for any man,” he said, his frown deepening. “Very well, I shall grant your requests.”

            “I am most grateful, my lord.” She inclined her head.

            “However, permit me to make one of my own.”

            “Yes, my lord?” It was her turn to view him curiously.

            “I would like you to conduct yourself in the manner befitting the Countess of Ravenhall when we are out in society,” Reeve said. “That is to say nothing less than an exemplar of proper decorum.”

            “I see no reason why I should not be able to live up to such a request. You may find it difficult to believe, my lord, but I can be most docile and cooperative when I wish to be.”

            “No, I do not find it hard to believe at all that you can accomplish anything you put your mind to,” Reeve said. “Which is not very comforting.”

            “I shall take that as a compliment, my lord.”

            “You may take it however you wish. Now, shall we go on to discussing the wedding ceremony?”

            The wedding ceremony took place at one of the churches in London in a fortnight, as soon as Lord Alexander Barton, Axelle’s father, returned from the continent, followed by a grand reception at the Ravenhall mansion.

            All of the members of the
ton
were in attendance, most of whom, with the exception of a few envious, disgruntled women, congratulated the bride and groom on their union. Axelle, true to her promise, played the perfect hostess, easing into her role as the new Countess of Ravenhall and the very embodiment of propriety as she received each adulation with a gushing smile from behind her jeweled fan – so much so that she moved Lady Barton to tears on more than one occasion.

            Reeve watched her thrive under all the attention, glancing in her direction every now and then. Unlike his wife, he made no effort to engage any of the guests in a conversation or participate in their chatter, although he responded accordingly to every question and remark. Any number of his guests, after all, could have been responsible for spreading the rumours about his supposed undue intimacy with Axelle, just as they had about his first wife.

            At the thought of Anne, Reeve cringed inwardly, feeling a stab of guilt. He had loved her wholeheartedly, even defied society for her, and yet, here he was, among the same people who had rejected her and spoke ill of her, both in life and in death. 

            “You seem ill at ease, my lord,” Axelle remarked during their first dance of the evening, the hint of displeasure on his well-chiseled features not escaping her notice.

            “If you recall, Madam Wife, I was against these festivities,” he answered. Originally, he had been planning on securing a special license for the wedding as he had done with his first, but Lord and Lady Barton had been adamant, insisting that everything be done properly and in public. “You, on the other hand, seem to be enjoying them.”

            “Why, I am merely doing as you asked, my lord,” Axelle said, her emerald eyes peeking at him from beneath long lashes. “I trust you shall keep your end of the bargain.”

            “To suggest otherwise is an attack on my honor, Axelle,” he said, his countenance immediately turning stern.

            “Forgive me, my lord, I did not mean it as such,” she said quickly. “I shall endeavor to exercise discretion in choosing my words.”

            “There is comfort in that,” he agreed, his expression softening.

            “Is that all, my lord?”

            “Is what all?”

            “I was under the impression that you have been contemplating something serious for some time now. Would you mind making me privy to it?”

            “I was simply thinking that someone in this room may have been the one who saw us in Lord Elmsmoor’s gardens.”

            She glanced around. “You may be right in that, my lord. I do see some familiar faces.”

            “We invited the entire
ton
, after all,” he said wryly. “In any case, whoever intended to drag the Ravenhall name into a scandal must be distraught by now, as we have risen above the occasion. I only hope that such an attempt shall not be made again.”

            “Is there perhaps someone in society intent on ruining the Ravenhall house?” she asked.

            “No doubt, I have my share of foes,” he admitted. “As do all the powerful lords in the gentry. Even now, there are perhaps those who resent this union.”

            “But surely that is no reason to spread malice?”

            “Let me give you a piece of advice, Madam Wife,” he told her. “Do not ever be deceived by the fashionable appearances of the men and women of the
ton
.”

            “Very sound, my lord,” Axelle replied. “Rest assured, I shall take it to heart.”

            They shared several more dances throughout the course of the evening and late into the night, dancing with their guests on other occasions or sitting out so they could sample some fresh air in the balconies.

By the time the ballroom had emptied, Axelle was thoroughly exhausted and greatly relieved to retire to her new bedchamber, which, she found was far more spacious than her former one and furnished more lavishly, impressing her current status upon her. Once there, she sent for the maid to help her out of her gown and stays into her chemise, and no sooner had the task been completed did a knock sound on the door, making her pulse leap.

“Axelle?”

Hastily, Axelle moved towards the huge bed, occupying the side farther from the door. “You may come in, my lord.”

Reeve did so, turning to the maidservant. “Leave us.”

The maid promptly obeyed.

Once she had left, Reeve paused to look at his wife, noting how she seemed to be a different woman with her hair cascading freely past her shoulders instead of being held up in pins and ribbons, her slender body with all its curves, until that moment constantly concealed from his view by layers of whalebone and silk, outlined by her chemise and nearly visible through its thin fabric.

Wondering why he was silent, Axelle turned her head to face him but quickly averted her gaze when she realized he was staring at her so intently, causing a light blush to stain her cheeks.

“You seem quite aware of my intentions,” Reeve noticed, coming closer.

“I am not so naïve, my lord, as to not know what transpires between a man and a woman on their wedding night,” she answered, trying to keep the nervousness out of her voice.

“Indeed?” He sat on the edge of the bed. “And where, may I ask, did you acquire such knowledge?”

“I have read of it, my lord.”

“And what exactly have you read?”

“That a man…” She stopped when she met his gaze, her blush darkening, and looked away again. “I would rather not discuss it, my lord.”

“I insist,” he said as he lied down beside her.

“That a man…enters a woman’s body…to sow his seed,” Axelle continued reluctantly, her eyes fixed on the window pane.

“I see.” He frowned abruptly regretting that he had bestowed her absolute freedom in choosing what she read. There were some matters, after all, on which a man preferred to educate his wife himself. “And you have no arguments against this?”

“I am well aware of a husband’s privileges, my lord,” she answered. “Besides, you have made it clear that you wished for an heir.”

“Then I should be grateful I have such an accommodating wife.”

He bent over and kissed her, delighting in how soft her mouth felt beneath his own, which caused a stirring in his groin, while his hand closed around a firm breast, eliciting a shiver and a sharp intake of breath from her. As his lips moved lower, planting a kiss on the small patch of exposed skin below her neck, his hand did as well, his long fingers skirting over her belly, which he hoped would soon be ripe with his seed, and tracing a sharp hipbone, stopping only when they reached the hem of her chemise, at which juncture he gathered the thin fabric and lifted it up to allow more of her pale skin to be bathe in the moonlight.

Once the fabric had been gathered around her waist, Reeve lifted his head to look at her face and what he saw then gave him pause, for her head was still turned to the side, her eyes shut tight, her lips slightly parted and quivering in fear as she fought to control her breathing. He frowned.

“Is anything the matter, my lord?” Axelle broke the silence, realizing that Reeve had stopped and opening her eyes to find him looking utterly displeased.

He moved away from her and lied down. “I am not content with an accommodating wife, after all,” he muttered.

“My lord?” Axelle sat up and pulled her chemise back down, not understanding the meaning behind his words.

“Get some rest,” he told her, his voice still laced with impatience. “We depart for the country early tomorrow.”

 She stared at him, confounded, and was about to insist on an explanation for the sudden shift in his demeanor when he pulled up the sheets to his chest and closed his eyes, making it clear that he would give her none.

At that, she, too, laid back down, though she did not close her eyes. Instead, she gazed at the ceiling, her thoughts churning as she sought to find the answers to her unspoken questions. As far as she knew, she had not done anything wrong. She had stayed still and not let out any word of protest, which her husband had seemed to approve of until he had suddenly stopped. So why did he?

The only thing she knew was that she was somehow at fault, that he had been dissatisfied by something he suddenly saw in her, but what?

And why did she feel a strange weight on her chest? Just moments earlier, she had been terrified, having read, too, that the act of coupling was often accompanied by discomfort on the part of the woman, if not pain, particularly during the initial occurrence, though she strove to keep it imperceptible. So why, now, did she not feel a great sense of relief?

Instead, she felt a mixture of bewilderment, exasperation, dread, and for the most part, an overwhelming sadness, as if something of great value had been right within her grasp and then suddenly snatched away from her.