Page 63 of To Bed the Bride
When she didn’t respond he said, “I insist upon it.”
“Is this the way our marriage is to be, Michael? You issuing orders and me obeying them without question? Am I never to have an opinion?”
“This new rebellion of yours is not attractive.”
“Why did you ask me to be your wife, Michael?”
He frowned at her. Quite an impressive scowl at that. She was probably supposed to be quelled into silence by his look.
“What kind of question is that?”
A rational one. An explainable one. A commonsensical one. A normal one.
“Please,” she said. “Allow me a little curiosity on this one matter. I would truly like to know.”
She forced herself to face him, to meet his gaze and endure his study of her.
“You were biddable, Eleanor. Of all the women I’d met you were the most manageable.”
It wasn’t her looks, then, or her personality—although she doubted if he’d had a chance to learn who she truly was before asking her to be his wife. Not her possession of a lovely home in Scotland. Nor the fact that she was related to Hamilton Richards. Michael had selected her from all the other women because she barely spoke in his presence, because she listened to him rather than demand he do the same.
She’d been a ghost of a woman, easily manipulated and ordered about. A timid, frail wisp of a creature who would never dare stand up for herself or espouse her own thoughts and beliefs. The woman he’d met during her season had been that person, a London persona she donned because she had to, because it was necessary in order to survive in this world she disliked so much. That wasn’t who she truly was, however.
Logan was the only person who knew the real Eleanor.
“Your aunt assured me you would be a dutiful wife. I don’t know what happened to you in the past weeks, Eleanor, but I don’t like the change.”
Michael’s words made so much sense. Of course that’s why he’d chosen her. What would he say if she told him that it had all been a lie, that the woman he’d known was dying a little each day?
She had her answer and it didn’t solve anything. Instead, it made the situation even worse.
She fell back on old habits, arranging her face into a calm facade, a half smile curving her lips. She willed her gaze to show nothing of her thoughts. Not her anger. Not her fear. Nothing.
“I want you to get rid of him. Do you understand?”
“I understand.”
The cloud on her horizon, the storm cloud of her marriage, was growing closer and looking even more thunderous. Yet a half-dozen people were expecting to be blessed by that union. Every member of her family was overjoyed that they would soon be related to a peer. Michael’s earldom would spread its influence and that’s all they noticed. They wouldn’t, after all, pay the price. She was the only one who would do so and it was becoming all too obvious that this marriage would be very costly indeed.
“And you agree?”
Of course she didn’t. What he was demanding of her was unkind at the least and barbarism at the worst. What did he expect her to do, simply abandon Bruce within the city? Take him to the park, remove his lead, and bid him go fend for himself? Did he expect her to drown him in the Thames? Or take him to the worst part of the city and allow him to be tortured by gangs of ruthless children? Or, perhaps, give him to someone—like Michael—who would kill the puppy without a thought?
Was it possible to hate someone temporarily? She doubted if hate could be borrowed and then be put back wherever that emotion lived when it wasn’t used.
What would happen if she allowed herself to hate Michael about this situation? She suspected that the hate would bleed over into other circumstances. Even worse, she suspected that the man who was to be her husband could also be her enemy.
She and Logan had talked about lies one day. She’d admitted that she hadn’t always told the truth. Now she lied to Michael while meeting his eyes. She nodded and said, “Yes, I agree.”
He smiled, finally satisfied and generous in his despotism.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Her driver, Liam, was still in London. Eleanor hadn’t sent him back to Hearthmere since he was enjoying his visit to the city. The next morning she sent him to Logan’s home with a note and a request that he keep this errand to himself. It wouldn’t do for the Richardses’ household to know that she was communicating with Logan. Liam had only grinned at her and promised.
“If he’s home, wait for a reply. If he isn’t, then leave the note.”
Knowing how long Logan’s workday was, she honestly didn’t expect to get an answer as quickly as she did. Her note had been direct and short.
