Read Online The Six Month Marriage by Amanda Grange - Free Book Online Page B

You are mistaken,’ she remarked.
    He leaned back in his chair, his amber eyes penetrating.
‘Don’t try to fool me, Madeline. It doesn’t work. Something is definitely troubling
you. Are you regretting it?’ he asked. ‘Going through with the marriage?’
    She shook her head. ‘No.’
    He nodded thoughtfully. Then suddenly he asked, ‘What
did you think of Letitia?’
    The question took Madeline completely by surprise. ‘She
is . . . very beautiful. And very elegant.’
    ‘Yes. She is. Letitia is the most polished woman I have
ever met.’
    Does he really think so? Madeline wondered with an
unaccountable sinking feeling. Before reminding herself that it was no business
of hers what he thought.
    ‘She seemed to know all about it,’ Madeline said
nonchalantly. ‘Our . . . arrangement.’
    He nodded. ‘She does.’
    ‘And does she not object? To your marrying someone else?’
Madeline asked.
    ‘Would you object?’ he asked. ‘If the positions
were reversed.’
    ‘Most definitely,’ she said.
    He looked at her searchingly, as if trying to read her
thoughts. Then he said, ‘Letitia doesn’t want to be poor any more than I do.
She has plans for the future, as I have, and those plans require my fortune.’
He pushed back his chair and stood up.
    ‘I see.’
    ‘But it seems wrong to you; our six-month marriage?’ he
asked, looking down at her with a frown.
    ‘It isn’t for me to judge. After all, without the
six-month marriage, I would not have been able to escape from my uncle.’
    ‘Yes, you would,’ he surprised her by saying, and the
intensity of his gaze unsettled her. ‘You would have become a governess, or a
companion, and although your life may have been hard you would still have
escaped from your uncle. In fact, I am beginning to wonder if I was wrong to
talk you into this,’ he said, as though speaking to himself.
    ‘No.’ She shook her head forcefully, pushing back her
own chair. ‘You suggested the idea, but I was the one who agreed to it.’
    A faint smile appeared at the corner of his mouth, his
expression one of respect. She gave a shiver. There was something about the
sight of his face softening that made her melt inside. What it was she did not
know; unless it was the contrast between his craggy features and the full lines
of his mouth.
    His eyes lingered on her and she swallowed, feeling a
sudden tension in the room.
    ‘Come,’ he said. He seemed to feel it too, and to make a
deliberate attempt to dispel it. ‘Let us retire to the drawing-room.’
    She nodded. ‘Very well, my lord.’
    ‘Philip,’ he said, dropping his arm and taking her hands
instead. He turned to face her. ‘My name is Philip.’
    She pulled her hands out of his own. She didn’t know how
it was, but somehow his touch made her tremble. He seemed to feel it, too, and
to her relief he did not try to reclaim her hands.
    ‘I can’t call you that,’ she said.
    ‘You’re my wife, Madeline. You can’t go on calling me
“my lord”.’
    There was a hint of amusement in his voice, but she
found the idea of calling him Philip too disturbingly intimate.
    But then she gave herself a mental shake. She was being
foolish. Of course she must call him Philip. He was right. She was now his
wife. ‘Very well . . . Philip.’
    He put his finger under her chin and turned her face
towards him.
    ‘There. That wasn’t so difficult, was it?’
    ‘No.’ But standing there, as his strong fingers traced
the line of her cheek, was.
    Why was she feeling this way? she wondered. She knew
what men were: brutal, controlling and savage.
    Yes. Brutal, controlling and savage.
    She took a step back. ‘If you will excuse me,’ she said,
‘I am feeling rather tired. I will bid you goodnight.’
     
    Once
more in her room, Madeline was relieved to find that Jenny did not notice how
quiet she was. Instead, her maid was full of chatter, a chatter she was happy
to encourage, because whilst Jenny talked she did not have to examine her