Page 11 of The Earl's Scarred Bride

Mrs. Winters' eyebrows rose slightly. "You have experience with household management, my lady?"

"I've been managing my father's estate since my mother passed." Elizabeth touched her scar unconsciously. "Someone had to."

The housekeeper's expression softened with something that might have been approval. "Then perhaps you'd like to see the account books after?—"

A flicker of color through an open doorway caught Elizabeth's attention. She paused, drawn to what appeared to be a small gallery filled with paintings.

"Mrs. Winters, what room is this?"

"Oh, that's—" Mrs. Winters began, but Elizabeth had already stepped inside.

The room took her breath away. Paintings covered nearly every inch of wall space, their gilt frames catching the morning light. They weren't the usual stern ancestral portraits she'd expected in a noble house. These were intimate scenes—gardens in full bloom, children playing by a stream, a woman's hand holding a paintbrush. The style was delicate yet assured, each brushstroke placed with evident care and love.

"Who painted these?" Elizabeth moved closer to examine one depicting a young boy with familiar dark blue eyes, sword-fighting with a tree branch. Something about the child's impish grin reminded her of?—

"What are you doing in this room?"

Cecil's voice, cold and sharp as winter frost, made her spin around. He stood in the doorway, his broad shoulders blocking the exit, his expression thunderous. Mrs. Winters had vanished, Elizabeth noticed, apparently possessing the good sense to flee at the first sign of her master's displeasure.

"I wasn't aware any rooms were forbidden to the mistress of the house," Elizabeth replied, lifting her chin. Though her heart raced at his sudden appearance, she refused to be cowed. "Unless these paintings hold some special significance? Perhaps they belonged to a former...companion?"

The muscle in Cecil's jaw ticked. "You overstep, madam."

"Do I? I merely wish to understand what areas of my new home I'm permitted to enter. After all, we wouldn't want me stumbling upon any...delicate memories."

"You presume too much about things you don't understand."

"Then enlighten me, my lord." The words emerged more breathless than she'd intended. "What am I to make of a husband who demands marriage one day, then retreats to his study the next, speaking only to issue commands about forbidden rooms?"

Something shifted in Cecil's expression—a flicker of something almost like pain before his features hardened again. "You agreed to our arrangement. Three months, an heir, then freedom. My private matters are not your concern."

"Everything in this house is my concern now." Elizabeth gestured to the paintings. "Including these. If I'm to manage this estate?—"

"You'll manage what I tell you to manage." His voice dropped lower, sending an involuntary shiver down her spine. "And you'll stay out of this room."

Their gazes locked in silent battle. Elizabeth felt her pulse quicken at his proximity, hating how her body betrayed her with its response to his presence.

"Is that how you intend to spend our three months?" Elizabeth challenged, emboldened by his reaction. "Issuing commands and expecting blind obedience?"

A dangerous smile curved Cecil's lips. "I can think of far more...entertaining ways to spend our time."

His eyes dropped to her mouth, and Elizabeth's breath caught. She took a step back, bumping into one of the paintings. Cecil's hand shot out to steady both her and the frame, effectively trapping her between his arm and the wall.

"Careful, wife," he murmured, his breath fanning against her cheek. "These paintings are irreplaceable."

"Like their artist?" The words slipped out before she could stop them.

Something dark flickered in Cecil's eyes. His free hand came up to trace the line of her scar, the touch so light it might have been imagined. "You're playing a dangerous game, Elizabeth."

"I wasn't aware we were playing at all." But her voice trembled as his fingers lingered on her neck.

"Aren't we?" His thumb brushed her pulse point. "You're here, in a forbidden room, provoking me with accusations about former lovers. One might think you're trying to make me jealous."

Elizabeth's face flushed with indignation. "Don't flatter yourself, my lord. I'm merely trying to understand what kind of marriage I've been forced into."

"Forced?" Cecil's eyes darkened. "As I recall, you came to me quite willingly at the altar. Or was that another sacrifice for your dear sister?"

The reminder stung. Elizabeth attempted to duck under his arm, but Cecil moved faster, placing both hands on the wall beside her head.

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