The Sherbrooke Bride - Catherine Coulter [76]
Alexandra didn’t say a word. She walked beside Douglas across the entrance hall, looking inadvertently from the corner of her eye where she’d been ignominiously tripped up by Sinjun and straddled on the marble floor.
She felt stripped and exposed and completely alone. She felt defeated. It was a relief to be away from all those dreadful people, but now she was with Douglas, the only person in the world who could truly crush her.
Douglas led her to the library, shut and locked the door. This time, he offered her the key. “To save me from possible further physical attack,” he said. “Although I see no furnishings in here you could use for another attack. Even you could not lift that wing chair. As for that hassock, don’t be deceived by its lack of mass. It weighs more than you do.”
She shook her head, moved quickly away from him, and stood behind a sofa, a dark brown leather affair that suited him immensely well.
He wished she would say something, but she didn’t. He tossed the key to the desktop.
He drew a deep breath and fastened her with his major’s eye. “All right, Alexandra, the time has finally come for us to get a few things straightened out.”
She looked at him, no clue to her thoughts or feelings showing on her face.
He frowned. “You have made me a laughingstock. I am not particularly pleased about that. However, what’s done is done. I am even willing to say that I did play something of a part in what happened, that I am somewhat to blame. Have you anything to say for yourself?”
“Your family made me a laughingstock. I am not particularly pleased about that. What’s done shouldn’t have happened, but it did. I’d further say that you played the largest part available. That’s what I have to say.”
“You’re right, to a point. It wasn’t well done of them. I won’t let it happen like that in future. Now we will get back to you and your behavior.”
She stared at him, mute.
“Were I you, I wouldn’t say anything either. An apology would sound suspect since your behavior has been that of a bedlamite, of a thoughtless, feckless hoyden unworthy of the title of countess.” Douglas came to a grinding halt. The diatribe was merited, indeed it was, but it wouldn’t gain him anything, not after the rounds of fire in the dining room. Aye, given the likely penchant of her current temper, she just might try to hurl the sofa at his head. He moderated his voice. “But, as I said, what’s done is done.” He gave her a smarmy smile. “We must look to the future now.”
“What future?”
“That is what I wish to discuss.”
“I cannot see much hope for a future. Your mother is distressed that you are married to me. It is also obvious that she would dote on Melissande as a daughter-in-law. But since Melissande is out of the running, there is still this Juliette person, who, although second to Melissande in beauty, still rates quite highly in terms of comeliness. As for me, I appear to be off the other end of the scale. Your mother would never accept me. I don’t fancy having to endure humiliation from you and then endure nastiness from her.”
And Douglas said without thought, “I imagine my mother looks at Melissande and sees no challenge to her authority. You, however, are made of sterner stuff and couldn’t be counted on to spend all your time on your clothing and planning for parties and balls. No, you would likely want to oversee the management of household affairs yourself.” He stopped, both surprised and appalled at what had come out of his mouth.
She saw that he was chagrined and said, “Be careful, my lord, else I might take that as a compliment, regardless of your intentions.”
“I didn’t mean it,” he said. “Melissande could most certainly be counted on to do her duty.”
Alexandra could have told him that Melissande would be shown a torn sheet and look bewildered.
Instead, she said, “Melissande also enjoys watercolors. She’s really quite talented. Whilst I am fully able to oversee darning sheets, she leaves such mundane tasks to those who