Free The Duke's Reform by Fenella J Miller Page B

specimen
and it was hardly surprising he had failed to father further children.
          He punched the
wall, the pain sending shockwaves up his arm. He was master here and whatever the
provocation Isobel must pay. His anger grew with each step he took. He had been
too lenient with her and allowed her to run wild when he was absent, to ignore
her duties as chatelaine. She had become impertinent, not at all the submissive
wife he thought he'd married.
     From tonight everything
changed. He'd lavished money and gifts on her, had not overburdened her with
his demands in the bedroom, and what had she done? She had thrown it all back
in his face by behaving like a common trollop. A lady would have fainted, run
weeping to fetch him, or possibly slapped the bastard across the face. But no,
she must pick up a candlestick and brain the man in full view of a dozen
people.
          Having left the
butler to supervise the departure of those three men he was free to take the
necessary action that would ensure no further breaches of etiquette occurred.
His valet was hovering nervously. Alexander smiled grimly. When his evening
coat had gone, his cravat, boots and waistcoat also, he held up his hand. 'Leave
me, Duncan, I can do the rest myself. I shan't require you until the morning.'
          'Your grace,
allow me to help you into bed. You're trifle unsteady.'
          'Silence. Know your place or lose it.' What was it about
tonight that all about him were defying his every order?
         
He glared and his valet collected the discarded garments and retreated into the
dressing-room. The door clicked shut. What was going to take place in the
adjoining apartment needed no eavesdroppers.
    ****
    Isobel tensed at every passing footstep, but so
far he had not burst in through her sitting room door to berate her. The house
was quiet, even the most recalcitrant of the guests had retired to their bed
chambers. He was not coming tonight. Thank God for that, he had been drinking steadily
for hours. With luck he had passed out in his study and would wake with a sore
head in the morning and no recollection of what had transpired.
     She turned, plumping the
pillows and finally relaxing. On the verge of sleep she heard the distinctive click
of the door that led from his bed chamber. He entered quietly, pushing the door
closed behind him. She held her breath. If she feigned sleep would he retreat?
Her heart was hammering—a wave of nausea engulfed her.
    Through the slit of her eyelids a flickering
light showed he was in his shirt sleeves and pantaloons. When he came to her in
the usual way he wore only his silk bed- robe, was
naked underneath. She could not welcome him into her bed when he was angry and
in his cups. Here was the only place she could still cling to the faint hope
that one day he would learn to love her and this marriage would become like his
first. If he took her in anger, it would be over— with no children to keep them
together she would have nothing to hope for. The rest of her life would be
lonely and miserable, trapped in a marriage that had failed them both.
          Perhaps he was
not angry about had come to check she was unharmed from the unpleasant
experience. She dare not raise her head to look at him for this would reveal
she was awake. The sound of further candles being lit could mean only one thing . S he could no longer dissemble. He had
not come to make love to her or to check if she was distressed— he had come to
punish her for besmirching his precious name in public.
          Would it make
things easier if she apologised ? Pushing herself
upright she forced her lips to curve in a smile of welcome. His face was
unrecognizable. His eyes glittered strangely, an arctic grey— he was a stranger
to her. She tried to find words to mollify him. He was not himself, anger and
drink was making it appear as if he hated her. Her words remained locked behind
her teeth. Her mouth was too dry to release her