The Rebel Bride by Catherine Coulter

“Oh!” Lady Sarah jumped back, dropping her arms in stunned surprise.

“Good evening, my lord. I trust I find you well.” She gave her husband a dazzling smile.

Julien was staring at her, not smiling back, not frowning, just staring, as if she were a specter. He said easily, “I go tolerably well, my dear, tolerably well.”

“Now, my dear Lady Sarah, although it is perhaps comforting to think that one’s husband is in such capable hands, I think it time to have a changing of the guard, so to speak. I daresay your own husband would much appreciate such a fond display of affection.”

Although Sarah had never before been confronted by such a calm, contemptuous lady, she was made of sterner stuff than Kate imagined. Yes, she would quickly reduce Kate again to that pale, spineless chit that she’d known just a month before. The earl had been quiet since her arrival, attending to her every word with obvious interest, so it seemed, and had not appeared to be at all disinclined to accept her passionate embrace. Indeed, Sarah was emboldened to believe the earl had been on the verge of succumbing to her. Had it not been for the untimely arrival of his country mouse of a wife, she would have won. Perhaps she would still win.

“I don’t believe you judge the situation quite correctly, dear,” Lady Sarah said. “You speak so easily of fondness and affection. Why, everyone knows that you don’t even sleep with your husband of three months, that you don’t allow him near you.”

Oh, God, she couldn’t stand it. But she had to. Everything came down to this conversation, to his view of her now.

She stiffened almost imperceptibly as Lady Sarah continued smoothly, picking up speed in her growing confidence, “Doesn’t it make sense to you that Julien would most certainly grow impatient with you, which I understand is usually the case when one forms attachments outside one’s class. Don’t you think it time for you to own up to the mistake? Don’t you think it time to release him? Don’t you think it wise, dear, to return to your quiet country life, where surely you will understand things better and be more comfortable?”

Kate wondered briefly how bunches of the lady’s blond hair would look wrapped around her fisted hand.

“Am I more comfortable in the country? I do wonder about that. However, I’m touched by your obvious concern for my welfare. However again, I find you and your observations a dead bore, though I must admit to being a bit curious at your overly lively imagination. Now, if you please, I find your presence quite fatiguing, and must ask that you leave. I am here now. I am home. I wish to be with my husband, alone.”

“Julien, tell her to go away, tell her not to talk to me in such a way.”

“You intrude upon my comfort, Lady Sarah. Leave my house this instant, else I shall personally boot you out. I can too, you know, for I was raised in the country and I’m nearly as strong as my husband.”

“You fool! Your house? I think the earl must have other opinions on that subject, don’t you, Julien?”

“Well, half the house is mine. And indeed, this salon is in the very center of my half.”

“Julien, would you cease this senseless charade and send her packing?” Sarah grabbed his arm and gave it a light shake.

There was a sudden silence, and Kate found that she couldn’t meet his eyes. She had absolutely no idea what he was thinking, for he’d acted the interested but detached onlooker since she entered the room. She wondered with a sinking heart if the unmeasured words she had flung at him their last night together had finally driven him away from her, and if, indeed, he now viewed her as Lady Sarah had painted her. Did he now want to be free of her?

She forced herself to look up and saw that he was looking at her with an oddly keen expression that she couldn’t begin to fathom. She wondered dispassionately if he would allow her a dignified exit.