Free The Six Month Marriage by Amanda Grange Page B

that there was more to this situation
than met the eye. ‘Crump and I will see to the clearing up. I suggest, Countess,
that you go back to bed.’
    ‘I –’ She was about to protest when she realised that he
would not, or could not, say any more for the present; and besides, she was
growing cold. ‘Very well.’
    Now that she knew the house was not in any danger she
felt her presence was no longer necessary. And she would find it easier to be
away from Philip’s unsettling presence. It was bad enough in the daytime: by
night it was even worse.
    She turned round and left the room, making her way back
to bed.
     
    Philip,
watching her go, felt a sense of relief when she had departed. He sat for some
minutes, watching the space where she had been, and wondering why he had
reacted so strongly to the sight of her in her night-gown; so strongly that he
had had to turn away.
    True, he had reacted strongly to the sight of her in the
crimson gown she had been wearing when he had first seen her, but then he had
mistaken her for a harlot. But now, knowing that she was as innocent as she was
chaste, the reaction still remained; and he realised that for one uncontrolled
moment he had almost given in to an impulse to steer her back to her bedroom
and reveal to her the passions of a normal wedding night.
    Why was he reacting like this? he asked himself with a
frown. It was not as though he were an untried boy, losing control of himself
because a passably pretty woman – a beautiful woman, a deeply beautiful woman,
he thought, his eyes tracing the delicate curve of her cheek in his memory –
happened by chance to enter his life. He was a thirty-four year old man, with
all the experiences that thirteen years of maturity entailed.
    But still, she stirred him.
    No matter what his feelings were, however, he could not
give in to them. Because in order to have the marriage annulled he had to make
sure it was not consummated.
    He was beginning to realise just how difficult that was
going to be.
     
    Madeline
woke early, despite her broken night. As she thought over the events of the
previous day, she realised that it was her first morning as a married woman. It
was something she had thought would never happen, but to her surprise she did
not feel alarmed. She felt more concerned about the events of the previous
night.
    She washed in rose-scented water and dressed in a fresh
cambric gown, with Jenny’s help. Then she went downstairs.
    Philip had just finished eating when she entered the
dining-room, and as she sat down to hot rolls and a cup of chocolate he said, ‘I
am sorry you were disturbed last night. I hope you managed to sleep when you
went back to bed?’
    ‘Yes. Thank you.’
    ‘Good. Madeline . . .’
    She looked at him enquiringly.
    ‘For reasons I cannot disclose I would rather you did
not mention the break-in to anyone. Apart from ourselves, the only other person
who knows about it is Crump, and he will not speak of the matter without my
leave.’
    ‘Very well,’ conceded Madeline, ‘if it’s important.’
    ‘It is.’
    ‘But won’t the servants wonder how the vase was broken?’
she asked.
    ‘If they do, Crump will say he broke it himself by
accident.’
    Madeline frowned as an unwelcome idea occurred to her.
She laid down her knife.
    ‘What is it?’ he asked. ‘You are not eating.’
    ‘I just wondered . . . Are you in any kind of danger?’
she asked.
    ‘Of course not.’
    ‘If you are in danger I have a right to know,’ she said,
not convinced by his denial.
    ‘Forgive me, Madeline, but no, you don’t,’ he remarked,
politely but firmly. He pushed his chair back from the table and stood up,
bringing all further discussion to an end. ‘Finish your breakfast. We will be
leaving as soon as the coach is loaded. I intend to set out within the hour.’
    He left the room. Madeline drank her hot chocolate and
ate her rolls before retiring to her room, where she directed Jenny to finish
the packing.
    She