One Wicked Winter (Rogues & Gentlemen #6)

Belle stared at her reflection and decided that she had nothing to blush for – well, except for Aunt Grimble, and surely everyone had a relation like that somewhere? She would just have to prove to Winterbourne that he had made a far better choice than he realised. Longwold might be a vast and intimidating place - so vast and so terribly intimidating - and she may have little experience of running such a household - she had precisely no experience - but she was a quick a study and she would learn – oh, heaven help her!

Belle reconsidered the idea of eating in her room before dismissing it again with regret. She was made of sterner stuff than that. With a deep breath, she replaced one errant curl, pasted an awkward smile on her face, and walked out of the door.





Chapter 15


“Wherein our hero gets angry, our heroine gets furious, the valet gets anxious, and Crecy gets lost.”



Edward stalked the corridor, heading towards his bedroom, his mind overcrowded with a combination of dark thoughts and sexual frustration. The first part was fairly normal; his thoughts were comprised of a permanent snarl of anger and nightmarish memories these days. The second part was new, unwelcome, and he knew just who was to blame, especially since now, not even his usual physical exertion had eased his temper. Usually a good session like that morning’s would at least take the edge off his simmering anger so that he didn’t feel the need to bite the head off anyone who dared to speak with him.

Not so this morning.

This morning, he would need to hide himself away in his study and make sure everyone knew to keep well clear. This morning, he was not fit for company, polite or otherwise. He considered the idea of changing into the clothes he’d kept from the Dials - much to Charlie’s disgust - and heading out to find a tavern, a cheap bottle of gut rot, and a fight. Maybe that would make him feel better? Then he thought of what his sister would say if he attended his own wedding hungover and looking like he’d been run over by the mail coach.

Perhaps not.

Muttering obscenities, and with his temper rising further still, things were not helped as the door he was passing swung open and Miss Holbrook stepped out. He wondered if she’d been lying in wait for him. To make matters worse, there was a slightly odd-looking smile on her face, which made her appear a little unhinged. Though why shouldn’t she be grinning from ear to ear, he thought sourly; she was about to go from a penniless nobody with a bleak future to the Marchioness of Winterbourne. She should be giddy with her triumph at having snared one of the most eligible bachelors in the country. Especially when all she’d had to do was trap him in a compromising position.

Bravo, Miss Holbrook.

Yet when she caught sight of him, the change in her expression was quite comical - that was, if someone who retained a sense of humour had been viewing it. The rigid smile tightened into a grimace, and then fell away with such speed that it was hard not to feel insulted. She looked positively horrified at seeing him.

His temper climbed a notch higher.

“M-my Lord W-Winterbourne,” she stammered, looking for all the world as though she’d been cornered by a rabid dog. “Y-you gave me a start.”

“Evidently,” he growled, staring at her with growing satisfaction. She was quite obviously afraid of him, which was probably a good thing. Best she know now that her victory wasn’t quite as sweet as she might imagine.

He realised that they had not actually seen each other since the grand unveiling of their passion in front of the assembled guests. The high spots of colour that were rising on her cheeks suggested that she was also well aware of that fact.

She swallowed and stared at him, and he glowered right back. If the deceitful little wretch thought he would make this easy for her, she was very much mistaken.

“You ... er ... you’ve been ... umm, hitting those pad things again?” she asked, waving a trembling hand at him as he realised that he was sweaty and unkempt and probably stank to high heaven.

“Boxing, Miss Holbrook,” he growled, with mounting irritation. “I box.”

“Oh, I see,” she said. Though she probably didn’t.

“I ... May I watch you do that one day?” she asked.

For a moment he stared at her, torn between outrage that his future wife should demand something so unladylike and uncouth, and pure masculine pride. He was well aware of why she wanted to watch, and the thought made his body tighten in a not altogether unpleasant fashion. The fact that she had the power to do that to him did not improve his temper one bit.

“No.”

She blinked, and then swallowed, and he glowered at her some more, wondering what it would take to make her run away in terror. But Miss Holbrook was clearly not done yet. He saw the moment she decided that she would not be frightened away as a mulish expression settled into place, and her blue eyes glinted with obstinacy. Great, just what he needed, a woman who didn’t have the sense to turn and run when she faced danger.

“Why not?” she demanded.

He gritted his teeth.

“Because it is a totally unsuitable, not to say shocking thing, for a gently bred young woman to take an interest in. Only a hoyden with no care for propriety would even suggest such a shameless idea.”

He watched with interest as the glint in her eyes grew brighter and sharper.

“How dare you! When have I ever given you cause to doubt that I know how to conduct myself in polite circles?”

Edward just raised one eyebrow. The flush that stained her cheeks was quite remarkable. He almost fancied he could feel the heat from her face from where he was standing.

“T-that was your fault!” she flung back at him. “I have n-never ... would never normally act in such ... such ...”

“A wanton manner?” he suggested, narrowing his eyes as he stepped closer. “Promiscuous?” He lowered his voice, advancing on her as he tore her character to shreds. “Abandoned?”

He shouldn’t have been surprised by the stinging slap she dealt him, but somehow he was.

“Why you ...”

Snatching at her wrists he grabbed hold of her, holding her before him and glaring at her with fury. She gave a little shriek, and suddenly he realised her bravado had fallen away, and he could see real fear in her eyes. Somehow, he hadn’t expected that. The woman actually thought he might physically hurt her, and she was terrified.

He dropped her hands like she’d burned him and stepped back, appalled at both his own behaviour and the belief in her eyes that he would do such a thing. But, then, he’d not exactly given her reason to think otherwise. She had no reason to know he would never ... never .... She knew nothing about him at all.

“I suggest you don’t do that again,” he said, guilt and regret coiling with revulsion in his gut, his voice strained. “Ever.”

She stared at him for a moment, the dawning horror that this monstrous creature was to be her ever wedded husband perfectly visible in her eyes. He almost laughed.

Edward watched as she ran to her door and wrenched it open, slamming it shut behind her. The sound of the key turning in the lock was only too audible

Well, then, it looked like their wedding day was going to be a barrel of laughs. Congratulations, Winterbourne. Well played.

***

“You stayin’ in there all day, then?”

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