The Sherbrooke Bride - Catherine Coulter [48]
“I wanted . . . you’re thinking about what to do with me, aren’t you?”
“Yes, that and other things. I am also worried about Ryder voyaging to the West Indies. It is never a safe sailing. But he insisted that he be the one to go.” Douglas turned then to look up at her. “Ryder said I should remain here and come to grips with myself and my marriage to you. He believes you a perfectly fine sort.”
She said nothing.
Douglas looked over at her then. He brooded, stroking his fingers over his chin now. “Your nightgown is a little girl’s, all white and long and high-necked.”
“I don’t have any others.”
“The brass I will have to spend on clothing you begins to boggle the mind.”
“There is nothing wrong with my nightgown. It keeps me warm and it is soft against the skin.”
“It is a virgin’s nightgown.”
“Well,” she said reasonably, “that is what I am.”
“No self-respecting woman would wear such a garment.”
Alex sighed.
“What do you want? Ah, I see. You wish to plead with me some more. You wish to further detail how indispensable you can be to me. You wish to bray on about your housewifely accomplishments. I beg you not to tell me you will also sing in the evenings to me and perhaps accompany yourself on the pianoforte. Why the devil do you have your hair braided? It looks absurd. I don’t like it.”
Alex never stopped looking at him. She hadn’t thought about her braid; she should have, for a braid couldn’t be considered remotely seductive. Melissande never braided her hair. Alex would learn. She set her single candle down on the table by his chair. She raised her arms and slowly began to upbraid her hair. As the plaits came loose, she tugged her fingers through the deep ripples, smoothing them out. He merely sat there, watching her, saying nothing.
When she finished, her hair was loose to the middle of her back.
“Bring some hair over your shoulder.”
She did.
“There. Your hair is a nice color and it is of a nice thickness. At least the hair hides some of the hideous nightgown. Now, what do you want?”
There was really no hope for it. Either she opened her mouth and told him, or she left. He appeared impatient with her and saw her as naught but an unwelcome intrusion. It was daunting.
“Well? Get on with it. I can take anything except whining and wheedling.”
She said without preamble, chin up, back straight, “I’ve come to seduce you.”
“Ah, the female’s final weapon,” Douglas said. “I really shouldn’t be surprised, should I? If naught else, I put it in your mind this morning. I should have known, should have guessed. When all else fails, bring out the female body and parade it about in front of the randy man’s nose.”
“My only problem is that I’m not certain how to go about doing it.”
“That’s twaddle.”
“Perhaps if you could help me just a little bit, I could figure it out.”
“Let me make something clear to you, something it’s obvious you haven’t considered in this plan of yours. I can still have this farce of a marriage annulled even if I take your virginity. Do you understand me? Who would know, after all? Would you or anyone in your family announce to the world that you were damaged goods?”
“You make me sound as if I would be a mangled parcel. Surely that is absurd.”
“Oh no, a virgin who has lost her maidenhead is much worse off than a mangled parcel. Imagine your father’s reaction. He would be appalled but would remain silent, for he would know that if he opened his mouth and announced what I had done, you would be utterly ruined and he would be a laughingstock. As for me, why, no one in our great land would regard me with one less whit of consideration.”
“But why? That seems absurd. It seems hardly fair.”
“Fair rarely has a meaningful place in anything. The fact is that men of our class aren’t anxious to afflict themselves with wives who don’t arrive in the marriage bed pure and untouched. Thus, if a female slips, it is kept quiet so the poor fool who does marry her is well and truly trapped. So, you see, no one would know what I did or didn