Page 37 of The Banished Bride
Alex twisted at the gold signet ring on his finger and muttered something under his breath. “One last question.”
A discreet knocked on the paneled door interrupted the earl’s words. Looking greatly relieved, Perkins swallowed hard andtook hold of the polished brass knob. “I believe they are ready, milord.”
But am I?asked Alex as he followed the other man into the next room. It was not that he had any doubts as to whether his decision was the right one. It was just that now, after so many years of not giving a thought to the lady who bore his name, he found himself strangely nervous at the idea of coming face to face with her. Rather like a groom approaching the noose, he added with gallows humor, rather than one seeking to cut the knot that bound the two of them for life.
Her back was to him. Even from that angle, it was clear Perkins had not exaggerated her charms. His wife was indeed tall and willowy, with a mass of silky curls artfully arranged to spill down her back in a simple twist. The stylish cut of her emerald figured silk gown accentuated a slender waist, smoothly rounded shoulders and the graceful arc of her neck. Alex suddenly felt his throat constrict.The devil take it.She reminded him so much of certain other young lady that for an instant it was impossible to breathe.
His step faltered, and he gave a prolonged mental curse, chiding himself for being a complete and utter fool. The memory of Aurora seemed to haunt his every move these days. He heard her laugh in box at the Opera, recognized the exact shade of her hair in the shimmer of silk at a fancy ball, saw the shape of her chin in a Gainsborough painting over his mantel. And right now, he could swear he heard the soft whisper of her voice murmuring. …
This was insane.Alex fought to recover some measure of control. He must stop acting like a moonstruck halfling and concentrate on business. The business of sundering all ties with the stranger before him. Clearing his throat, he forced himself to speak in a firm voice.
“Perhaps, if Lady Woodbridge is ready, we might begin.”
He thought he detected a spasm run through her at his first words. Somehow, the idea that she might well be as nervous as he was helped ease some of the tension in his clenched jaw. “Mr. Perkins has provided you with a copy of the necessary legal papers and the proposed settlement.”
She turned to face him, and all at once, the rest of what he was saying was drowned out by an odd roaring sound that began in his ears and threatened to engulf the rest of his senses.
The silence in the room was deafening. Alex was aware that his lips had stopped moving, as had every other part of him. She, too, stood absolutely motionless, her emerald eyes mirroring the same shock and surprise that must have been evident in his own startled gaze.
Blithely unaware of the tension that had descended over the room, the other man of affairs put down his folder of documents on the large oaken table and pulled out a chair for his client. The rasp of its legs across the polished boards seemed to break the spell. Aurora quickly looked away and sat down without a word. Perkins slanted a look of concern at the earl before taking a place opposite the others. Somehow, the thought that the fashionable reticule looped around her wrist probably contained a new bottle of vinaigrette allowed Alex to gain his own chair without making a cake of himself by falling in a most unlordly swoon.
There was a rustle of papers. Several clerks appeared, armed with fresh foolscap, quills and ink. At a sign from Perkins, they seated themselves at either end of the long table. The advisor hired for Aurora, a distinguished looking older man by the name of Seymour, took a moment to clean his spectacles. As he did so, she leaned over and whispered something in his ear. His brows rose a fraction, but he nodded and turned to face his colleague.
“Before we begin, my client and I should like to clarify one rather basic fact. Mr. Perkins, can you vouch that the gentlemanseated at your right is ….” Aurora repeated something in a low whisper. “… is indeed James Fenimore?”
Perkins nodded his assent. “Yes. Since I have known him from the time he was in leading strings, I can state unequivocally that this is James Hadley Alexander Fenimore. Third son of the late Deverall George Eustace Fenimore, the sixth earl of Woodbridge, and the lawfully wedded spouse of one Elizabeth Jane Aurora Sprague. Now a Fenimore herself, of course.”
Aurora’s lips compressed in a tight line and she leaned back in her chair without further comment.
Seymour shot a questioning look her way, but on receiving a curt gesture to proceed with things, he opened up his leather folder. “Lord Woodbridge, I have reviewed the proposal drafted by Mr. Perkins, and though there may be one or two minor points that I must discuss further with my client, I believe we are willing to cooperate fully with you?—”
A low snort that seemed to emanate from Aurora’s general vicinity cut him off him, but as she made no other sound, he cleared his throat and continued.
“Now, the legal grounds for annulment are, er, rather specific. It says here that the parties are not claiming that His Lordship is incapable of performing his marital duties?—”
This time there was no mistaking the source of the interruption. “No doubt there would be entirely too many of his close female acquaintances willing to step forward and testify to the contrary,” muttered Aurora under her breath, her eyes narrowing but still refusing to meet his.
Alex refrained from reaching out to throttle her.
Both Perkins and Seymour made a good deal of noise shuffling papers before the other man went on. “Rather, the basis for this petition to dissolve the marriage rests in the fact that it has never been consummated. Indeed, the documents further state that the couple has never passed the night togetherunder the same roof.” He paused, then looked up, his features pinched with embarrassment. “Of course, there will have to be the, er, normal sort of examination?—”
“Perhaps we should consider changing the grounds for this proceeding,” interrupted Aurora once more, this time with a deceptively sweet smile. “Instead of asking for an annulment, His Lordship could always sue the courts for a divorce. On the grounds of adul?—”
“Gentlemen!” Alex’s hand slammed down upon the table with a resounding bang. “If you don’t mind, I wish to have a few words in private with my wife.”
“That willnotbe necessary, sir.” To emphasis her point, Aurora took firm hold of Mr. Seymour’s sleeve.
“In private,” he repeated, his voice rising several decibels.
Perkins was already half way to the door, the clerks right on his heels. Delayed by the need to extract his coat from Aurora’s clenched fingers, Seymour took a fraction longer to bolt up out of his chair.
“Stop bellowing! It may intimidate these men but it has not the least effect on me, sir, as you well know.” Aurora folded her arms across her chest. “And stop looking at me with that odious scowl,” she added with a growl. “I find it particularly annoying it when you make that face.”
Alex found himself fighting to keep any semblance of composure. “What face? I am not making a face.”
“Yes, you are. You do it whenever you decide to order people around. Your brows draw together like this, and then your left lip curls up just so.” She mimicked his expression with frightening accuracy.
Both of the advisors stared at her with mouths agape.
