Marriage of Inconvenience by Cheryl Bolen

Author:Cheryl Bolen
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Publisher: Harlequin Enterprises Pty Ltd, Australia
Published: 2012-12-08T13:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eleven

Aynsley was not in the morning room when Rebecca went down for breakfast. She had hoped to see him, to offer an apology. She could not remember a time when she had been more upset, and knowing that she was the source of their conflict increased her suffering tenfold. Why could she not hold her tongue? Why did she have to be possessed of such strong opinions? She was sure Aynsley must be wishing he’d married a meek, compliant woman. Certainly, he must be wishing he’d never married her.

She went to the cherrywood sideboard and poured herself a cup of tea. She eyed the toast and jams, but she had no appetite. In her state of agitation, she doubted she could keep anything in her stomach.

As was the family custom, the fast was broken each morning at a table that was only slightly larger than a game table and was situated against tall windows that afforded a view of the lake. Perhaps looking out over the rolling, peaceful landscape of Dunton would soothe her after her miserable, sleepless night.

Far in the distance toward the apple orchard she could glimpse her husband riding with another man, a man she assumed to be his steward.

“Have you seen Peter?”

Rebecca spun around to face her stepdaughter, smiling. “No, I haven’t.”

Emily did not return the smile. “I can’t find him anywhere. One of the footmen said he left early this morning. Surely he’s returned.”

Rebecca shrugged, though she had a very good idea where Peter could be found. She was not at liberty to reveal that information to the lovely blonde. “I’ve just come down. Have you eaten?”

“Not actually. I’d thought to join Peter.” Her glance skipped to the rack of toast.

“Why don’t you join me? I cannot think of a lovelier place to eat breakfast.” Rebecca’s glance swept over her stepdaughter. “How pretty you look today.”

Emily wore a simple muslin gown sprigged with tiny blue flowers and tied under the bodice with a pale blue satin sash. Rebecca thought she looked like an angel.

Still, no smile was forthcoming from Emily. “But you’re not eating!”

Rebecca sighed. “I have a digestive complaint this morning, but the tea’s still nice and hot—and most welcome.” It helped to clear her groggy head.

Emily helped herself to a piece of toast and patted marmalade on it before she came to sit across the table from Rebecca.

“I’m so happy to see you this morning,” Rebecca began, “because I shall beg that you do me the most tremendous service.”

The girl’s fine golden brows arched. “Pray, what could I do for you?”

“I should like the lads—as well as you and Peter and possibly even Uncle Ethelbert—to stage a performance in the nursery.”

“What kind of performance?”

“That’s the rub, you see. I thought perhaps you could write a short play especially for the family.”

“I cannot write a play!”

“I believe you can. Your father says you’re a terribly clever writer. I will presume to suggest a topic, but bear in mind, it’s only a suggestion.” If only she’d been as diplomatic on the previous night.

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