Honor's Players - By Holly Newman Page 0,28

announce dinner.

“My lady,” St. Ryne said, offering Elizabeth his arm. Elizabeth looked at it scornfully and moved to walk past him, but he caught her and draped her arm over his, chuckling as he did so. “You have a lot to learn, my spoiled darling.”

Elizabeth chose to ignore him, knowing she had not found a way to get under his skin at all and also knowing he had gotten under hers.

The dining room was in the back of the house with windows on three sides all heavily draped in a dark velvet material so old and discolored that Elizabeth wondered at its original color. A burgundy, she surmised by the silk tassels that still retained some of that hue. It was a large room with a rococo-style ceiling and a large marble fireplace. But if the two rooms she had seen thus far had perturbed her with their layers of dust, the dining room was revolting. The thought of eating any food in such filth was nauseating. Cobwebs covered the ornate chandelier and covered the delicate designs in the ceiling. The table had obviously been given only a cursory swipe with a dust cloth in anticipation of their meals and Elizabeth, looking at the chairs, was certain the dress she was wearing would be more gray than mauve when she rose again from dinner. To her consternation, St. Ryne appeared not to notice the condition of the room but blithely conducted her to a chair to his right while he took the chair at the head of the table.

“We will dine informally tonight, all right, my love?”

Elizabeth glared at him but did not deign to respond. If she could not get the best of him verbally, she would try silence and see how he liked that.

Atheridge served dinner and it was a meal to further depress Elizabeth’s appetite. The soup was thick and floury, but the lamb was revolting, swimming in its own fat and was barely warm. St. Ryne reacted to that, demanding to know why he must serve them cold meat.

“Beg pardon my lord, but it being so far from the kitchen—” the man whined in return.

“Remove it man! If that is your best, we’ll fast tonight and mend matters tomorrow. Come, Bess.” He grabbed her by the elbow and pulling her out of her chair, propelled her before him, stopping long enough for the port bottle and his glass before guiding her into the library once again.

“Sit down,” he said, pushing her into a chair across from his. Without a word she sat stiffly, looking everywhere save at her husband. She was very tired and felt her shoulders long to droop and relax; however, she forced herself to remain rigid. She would have loved to go to bed but was afraid to suggest it fearing what actions he would take then.

She did not feel ready to deal with the intimacies of marriage, particularly to this stranger who was her husband. The day had been a mockery. Would he also make a mockery of the marriage bed? She squeezed her eyes shut to hold back a freshening of tears. Glancing over at him, she noted him drinking steadily and dimly hoped he would drink himself to sleep as her father was wont to do.

She was surprised when sometime later she felt a soft touch on her shoulder and looked up to find the Viscount’s eyes inches away from hers. With a start she realized she’d fallen asleep and was leaning back against the cushions, her cheek pillowed against the chair wing.

“Come,” he said, stretching out his hand.

Without thought, Elizabeth placed her hand in his and allowed him to draw her to her feet. His free arm swept around her waist to guide her toward the door. At his touch, all realization returned to Elizabeth and the color fled her face. St. Ryne dropped his arm as he opened the door for her and followed her out. Elizabeth walked slowly toward the stairs, her heart in her throat. She was surprised when St. Ryne did not take her arm again. She hurried slightly ahead of him up the stairs to avoid contact. He laughed softly and followed her into the bedchamber.

“Are you so impatient for my caresses, my love?”

Elizabeth froze. She began to tremble and crossed the room to the fireplace to warm her hands though she knew full well she was not trembling from the cold.

Behind her she heard St. Ryne breath in sharply. She closed her eyes,