Free Amanda Scott by Madcap Marchioness Page A

Henrietta, getting obediently to her feet and setting her teacup on the side table. “I do not wish to hear what Adelaide will have to say about this uproar.” She left them, adjusting her nightcap and clutching her dressing gown tightly around her thin form.
    Adriana looked up at her husband with a smile. “Will she really?” she asked. “Stay in bed, that is?”
    He chuckled. “She is neither wise enough nor lazy enough to do so. I’ll wager she breaks her fast in the morning room.”
    Morning dawned grimly gray, with large black clouds looming threateningly over the Channel, the waters of which were just as cheerless. Adriana, upon rising, gazed out the bedchamber window in dismay. Her hopes having been raised by starry skies in the middle of the night, she found it annoying to be faced by storm clouds at dawn and informed her husband that Thunderhill’s weather did little to detract from its gothic atmosphere.
    “Content yourself with the knowledge that the weather must be just as bad at Brighton,” he replied lightly.
    “Yes, but all our friends would be there,” she reminded him. “There would be amusements, things to do, and people to talk to.”
    “You will have plenty to do here,” he said. “There are, after all, people and amusements at Thunderhill, too.”
    Surprised by a sudden, sharp surge of anger that threatened to overcome her, Adriana dared not trust her tongue, so without another word she turned her back upon him and hurried to her dressing room, where she found Nancy waiting for her. Before she had finished dressing, however, the door from the long gallery opened without ceremony, and Chalford stood there, his temper apparently unruffled, his attitude seemingly no more than that of a gentleman wishing to escort his wife to breakfast.
    It occurred to Adriana, accustomed as she was to certain nuances of masculine temper, that perhaps he was restraining his annoyance with her out of regard for Nancy’s presence, so once they were alone in the long gallery with the door to the dressing room firmly shut again, she looked at him uncertainly.
    He smiled at her. “Hungry?”
    Her impulsive tongue threatened to betray her again, but she held back the sharp words, aware that she would sound childish if she snapped at him now, particularly when she was not certain why she was angry but had an uncomfortable, gnawing suspicion that it was because her walking out like she had had failed to annoy him. Telling herself firmly that to be married to a man who did not indulge in flights of temper was a vast improvement over what she had known before, she nodded in dignified response to his question, and allowed him to tuck her hand in the crook of his elbow. Thus, they entered the cheerful yellow-and-white breakfast parlor, looking the very picture of connubial content.
    As Chalford had predicted, both aunts were present, sitting opposite each other at the round mahogany table. The silence in the room was nearly palpable, the only sound being the whisper of the middle-aged second footman’s movements as he lifted covers and stirred the contents of one dish after another. At their entrance, he turned from his task to hold Adriana’s chair.
    “Good morning, Lady Adelaide,” she said, sitting.
    “Good morning,” replied that lady with a regal nod. “I trust that Hetta’s nonsense did not undo your rest.”
    “Not at all, ma’am.” She turned to Lady Hetta, who had not looked away from her plate, and said gently, “Good morning. I hope you were also able to get back to sleep.”
    “Oh, yes,” murmured her ladyship, bobbing her head. “Good morning, Joshua dear.”
    “For goodness’ sake, Hetta,” said Lady Adelaide, “stop sulking and sit properly. You’ve made a fool of yourself and been scolded for it, but it is scarcely the first time and I daresay it will not be the last. This cowed attitude of yours is most unbecoming, and I cannot think why you cultivate it. Sit up at once and behave