Edward looked up at his valet and then down at the water, which was by now tepid at best. He glared back at Charlie.
“Go and get me something to eat, will you?” he growled, because there was no way on God’s green earth that he was eating in company today. “I could eat a scabby horse.”
Charlie rolled his eyes. “Right you are, my lord. Let no one say I don’t aim t’ please. One scabby ‘orse, comin’ up.”
Edward grunted and waited until his valet had exited the room before getting up.
With annoyance, he realised an ice bath might have been of more use. No matter how hard he tried to keep his brain occupied, his thoughts returned over and again to the same subject, namely Miss Holbrook.
Miss Holbrook pliant in his arms, moaning with pleasure.
Miss Holbrook with her skirts around her neck, pleading for more.
Miss Holbrook naked and writhing beneath him.
It was surprising just how many variations he could come up with on the general theme, but they all came to pretty much the same conclusion: Miss Holbrook clawing at his skin in ecstasy and screaming his name to the rafters.
And Edward Greyston, Seventh Marquess of Winterbourne, was going to go out of his blasted mind if it didn’t happen soon.
So naturally, he’d made everything so much easier by terrifying his betrothed out of her wits and calling her a hoyden. Oh, and just for good measure, he’d also added wanton, promiscuous, and, not forgetting, abandoned. Actions and accusations that might have been specifically designed to ensure that she that would never be any of those things for him again. Ever.
He should be given a medal for idiocy. Truly.
To his relief, Charlie came back, staggering under the weight of a tray that, on closer inspection, seemed to bear half a cow, a vast dish of Dauphinoise potatoes and various side dishes. Perhaps if he ate it all, he’d be too lethargic to spend any more time considering his infuriating bride-to-be and the ridiculous situation he’d managed to manoeuvre himself into? He doubted it, but it was worth a try.
He watched Charlie move around the room, gathering dirty linen and laying out a fresh set of clothes for him. He placed a pristine white shirt upon the bed, smoothing out any wrinkles with care. The man had a familiar look on his face, his lips moving a little as he muttered under his breath. Charlie had something on his mind.
“Spit it out,” Edward mumbled around a mouthful of cold roast beef.
Charlie turned and pursed his lips before giving a heavy sigh. “What you gonna do about Demorte?” he demanded.
Well, there was a subject that could kill any amorous thoughts. Well done, Charlie.
“I don’t know,” he admitted. “I’m not sure what I can do?”
Charlie shook his head and took a seat on the edge of Edward’s bed, a shiny pair of hessians still in his hands. “I reckon ‘e knows exactly what ‘e’s doin’ next,” he said, his tone dark.
“Why thank you, Charlie,” Edward muttered. “You’re such a comfort.”
There was a snort, and Charlie place the boots down, moving along the mattress a bit as he noticed he’d sat on the sleeve of Edward’s clean shirt. He smoothed it out again before looking back at him. “No laughin’ matter, I reckon. That fellow’s got it in fer ye. Won’t sit by and leave ye be. Know that as well as I do, don’tcha?”
Edward sighed and reached to pour himself a glass of claret.
“Of course I know that,” he replied with irritation. “And what, exactly, would you have me do about it? Assassination isn’t exactly my style; the fellow is a crack shot, so I’d rather not call him out, if it’s all the same to you; and I have no proof whatsoever that he was behind the attempt on my life. So, do please instruct me ...” Edward waved an impatient hand and Charlie glowered at him
“I never said I ‘ad the answers, now did I?” he retorted with dignity. “But the thought of the wicked blighter out there, plottin’ somethin’ nefarious. Well, it’s enough to make ye blood run cold, it is.”
Edward rolled his eyes.
“For God’s sake, Charlie. Do something useful, and go and get some cards. I’m in the mood to win back that twenty pounds.”
“Good luck with that, my lord,” Charlie replied, smirking and avoiding Edward’s eyes.
“Did you fuzz the cards, you tricky bastard?” Edward demanded in outrage.
Charlie looked back at him with an expression of deep reproach, and laid a hand over his heart. “‘Ow could ye, my lord! As if I would?”
Edward grunted.
“‘Sides, don’t need to,” Charlie muttered under his breath with a grin, which broadened further as the marquess scowled at him. “‘Ere, shouldn’t you be goin’ down and doin’ the pretty with your betrothed tonight? If you start playin’ cards, ye won’t stop afore the early hours a tomorrow, I know.” He frowned at Edward, shaking his head. “You might at least ‘ave a few kind words for the young lady the day before ye wed ‘er.”
Edward didn’t look up but continued to work his way through the beef. “Go get the cards, Charlie.
Charlie sighed. “Very well, my lord.”
***
Belle had succumbed to the tray in her room after all, but she knew she couldn’t hide herself away forever. She could hardly spend all evening in her room, too. Sooner or later, she must face everyone, and Winterbourne. God help her.
He’d truly frightened her this afternoon, but yet, after she had slammed the door on him, she realised he had been as horrified by his actions as she had, and to be fair, she had struck him first. He hadn’t actually hurt her, either; it had been more of a shock, a shock which had been reflected in his eyes. He had meant to intimidate and frighten her, for sure, and had succeeded, but not, she thought, to actually do her any harm. Even the warning which followed, gruff and angry as it had been, had held a note of apology, as though he didn’t trust himself.
But there was no getting away from the fact that the man had a horrible temper and he didn’t know how to control it. Belle decided she had best do everything she could to understand the man, and fast. She was not about to spend the rest of her days in fear of her husband, so she would need to figure out a way to manage him. With that in mind, she decided she’d best speak to his sister.
As if she had conjured her up, there was a soft knock at the door, and Belle opened it to find Violette waiting for her, a sympathetic smile on her face.
“I thought perhaps you might like some company?” she asked as Belle returned her smile and gestured for her to come in.
“I would, thank you,” Belle admitted, closing the door behind her. She took a breath and decided to address the elephant in the room. “Also, I need to thank you, so much, for saving me last night. If you hadn’t ... hadn’t ...” Belle stopped, flushing as she remembered exactly what Violette would have witnessed.
The lovely young woman just grinned at her. “Do you know, I tried to ruin myself so that Aubrey would be forced to marry me, but I didn’t do it half so well.”