Jenni Fletcher - Reclaimed By Her Rebel Knight

She hadn’t been able to read his expression at first, but the way that he’d scowled as she’d crossed the room had made his feelings abundantly clear. Obviously he’d been disappointed with his first sight of her, no doubt comparing her unfavourably to her cousins, though he might have tried to hide his reaction a little. Almost the very first words out of his mouth had been about her appearance and then all he’d said was that she’d grown ! As if she wasn’t already keenly aware of the fact!

She’d entered the chamber determined to hide her true feelings and be ‘modest and obedient’ like her aunt had told her and then done the exact opposite, answering his questions with retorts and being generally belligerent instead. But how else could she have responded to his behaviour? ‘Modest and obedient’ were all very well, but surely that didn’t mean she had to tolerate disparaging looks and comments? Yes, she might have grown since their last meeting, but she could hardly do anything about that! And, yes, she might have been young when they’d married, but she certainly hadn’t been a child! She’d been more than capable of managing Lacelby! It was what she’d been trained for! Which her husband would have known if he’d actually bothered to speak to her on their wedding day. If he hadn’t just stolen her inheritance and left!

It had been too much to bear. All of the resentment and bitterness of the past five years had seemed to catch up with her at once, rendering ‘modest and obedient’ impossible. So she’d been rude and over-sensitive, misinterpreting his words and then insulting him in the worst way possible, but she’d never been so mortified in her life, first at what she’d thought he meant by her charms and then at his mirthful response.

The inevitable result was that he was leaving and she could hardly blame him. She didn’t particularly want to stop him either, but after what her aunt had said about making her and her uncle proud, Constance didn’t want to let them down either. If her husband left so soon after their reunion then the news would be around the manor in less than an hour and the banquet would be even more of an ordeal. Everyone would be talking about it and watching them, speculating as to why he’d left so soon and what had—or more precisely had not —happened between them and why. It would be hard to regard their marriage as anything other than a dismal failure and she’d promised to do her best...

‘I mean, please don’t go.’ She could hear the stiffness in her own voice. ‘I didn’t mean to be so abrupt, but...’ she sought for an excuse that didn’t involve resentment or abject rage ‘...I’m nervous.’

‘Nervous?’ He drew his already scowling brows even closer together, regarding her suspiciously for a few seconds before dropping his hand from the door handle. ‘Very well, then. Shall we sit?’

To her relief, he gestured towards the window seat instead of the daybed, almost as if he were making a point of avoiding it, and she perched on the far edge, resisting the urge to start chewing her fingernails again as he sat down beside her.

‘I should not have called you a liar.’ She folded her hands in her lap, waiting for some words of reproof, but to her surprise he sighed and spread his own hands out in a placatory gesture instead.

‘I should not have laughed.’

‘It was a misunderstanding.’

‘It was an attempt at a compliment, believe it or not. Perhaps I need more practice in making them.’

‘No, it was my fault. I did not...that is, I’m not accustomed...’ She faltered mid-sentence, wondering how to explain that she was used to a different type of comment, from men anyway. ‘I mean, both of my cousins are so beautiful...’

‘I suppose so...’ his brow creased as if he didn’t understand quite what she was trying to say ‘...in their own way. As are you, Lady Constance.’

‘Me?’ She was too astonished to even try to conceal it. Beautiful wasn’t one of the words men generally called her. They were usually far more descriptive... ‘But you scowled when I came in. I thought you were disappointed.’

He winced. ‘It’s a failing of mine, I’m afraid. I often don’t know I’m doing it, but it was not my intention to scowl. Believe me, I was not disappointed.’

‘Oh.’ She stared at him speechlessly for a few moments. Hard though it was to believe, he looked and sounded sincere—and he’d said she was beautiful...

‘In any case...’ she cleared her throat, trying to distract attention away from the pink blush she could feel spreading up her neck and over her cheeks ‘I apologise for what I said. I will try to be less... uncomfortable .’

‘As will I.’

His gaze was so direct that she turned her face towards the window, willing her cheeks to cool down as they lapsed into a pensive silence. It had started to rain again and the steady patter of water on the roof and against the windowpane seemed to echo all around them.

‘Your uncle is a good man.’ Her husband—it was still hard to think of him as Matthew—spoke again after a few minutes.

‘He’s been very kind.’

‘Your mother was his sister, I understand?’

‘Yes. They were always very close.’

‘What about your cousins? Are you close to them, too?’

‘Oh, yes—’ she smiled with enthusiasm ‘—they’re more like brothers and sisters to me. I love them all dearly, especially Isabella.’

‘I’m glad.’ He gave a satisfied-looking nod. ‘I hoped that would be the case.’

‘You hoped...?’ The words drew her up short. ‘What do you mean?’

‘Just that I thought you’d prefer living here to Wintercott.’

She stared at him in confusion. Wintercott was his family’s main residence, but what did that have to do with anything? ‘I don’t understand.’

He shrugged as if the subject wasn’t particularly important. ‘There was some discussion about where you should live after our marriage. My father suggested his household, but I thought you’d prefer being with your own family. I didn’t want you to be lonely, so I asked your uncle to take you home with him when I left England.’ He nodded again. ‘I’m glad that I made the right decision.’

‘Oh...’ She pursed her lips, resisting the urge to start another argument by asking why she’d had to leave Lacelby at all. It was true that given the choice between his father and her uncle then she would have chosen the latter, but neither had been what she’d really wanted. Even so, the fact that he’d put some thought into where she might be happiest made her resentment diminish a little.

‘You wanted to remain at Lacelby?’ His expression shifted suddenly, turning to one of comprehension. ‘That’s what you meant about being able to manage an estate at fourteen?’

She hesitated. No doubt her aunt would tell her to deny it and say that whatever decision he’d made had been the right one, but he looked as if he genuinely wanted to know the truth. Besides, she wasn’t that good a liar.

‘It was my home. When I agreed to marry you, it never occurred to me that I’d have to leave.’

‘Ah...’ he leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees ‘...so that’s why you’re angry with me?’

‘I’m not...’ She bit her tongue on the lie. ‘Yes. You never asked me what I wanted. I wasn’t a child and I could have stayed and managed Lacelby on my own. My mother raised me to do it.’

‘Indeed?’

‘Yes!’ She narrowed her eyes at his sceptically raised eyebrow. ‘She ran the whole estate for months on end whenever my father was away on campaign. He called her his rock. She didn’t need any help and she taught me everything she knew.’ She lifted her chin. ‘I didn’t want to be sent away.’