sculptured mouth and striking amber eyes. But now she noticed the cynicism in those eyes and a ruthless set to his jaw. She searched his features, but found no sign that this forbidding man had held her and made love to her with seductive sensuality on their wedding night. Now everything about him exuded ruthlessness and brute strength.
She moved to stand directly in front of him, her hands clenched into fists. ‘You know why I have come back to London, so don’t pretend you are surprised to see me. How could you do this?’ she cried in brazen confrontation. ‘I find it contemptible and completely underhand.’
Julius loomed over her, holding himself completely still, his eyes boring into hers. When he spoke his voice was icier than an ice floe, and his words chilled Beatrice more than that. ‘What I find underhand is for you to disobey me. It was foolish of me to expect to find my wife waiting for me to return home, to fling herself into my arms and shed tears of joy at my safe return. And if you’re about to tell me how sorely you’ve missed me, the fact that you left for Larkhill as soon as my back was turned is a little incongruous. If you want to soften my attitude towards you and win my forgiveness for disobeying me, then you will have to think of something else.’
The sweet drift of happiness Beatrice had felt on waking at Larkhill that morning shattered away and her heart hardened and her face turned mutinous. ‘Win your forgiveness?’ she exploded, her colour rising with indignation, anger and confusion warring inside her head. Julius had never cared about her and he had no right to act like a self-righteous, outraged husband. ‘And why, pray, should I want your forgiveness? I don’t want it.’
‘Oh, yes, lady, you do.’ His voice was soft, mild even, but there was a core of iron in it which told Beatrice to beware. His face was like granite, his mouth stern and his eyes had darkened in their fury.
‘The way I see it, I have done nothing wrong,’ she persisted. ‘Your forgiveness is the last thing I care about.’
Julius caught his breath and his jaw clamped with the grinding resolution which had kept him always in control of those with whom he dealt. Show no one your thoughts, had always been his rule, but this rebellious wife of his had a habit of pushing his temper beyond his control.
‘Beatrice,’ he said, ‘if you’re wondering how far you can push me, you’ve just reached your limit. I expect you to understand the rules.’ His eyes challenged her dangerously. ‘The idea of being defied by my own wife is unthinkable. As long as you behave yourself I am willing to let you enjoy the full benefits of your position as the Marchioness of Maitland. So think very carefully before you make the mistake of defying my orders in the future. You’ll regret it, I promise you. I can be ugly when I am crossed. You would do well to remember it.’
Anger at being spoken to like a recalcitrant child poured through Beatrice. She could not believe that this was her husband speaking to her, that he was worse than she remembered—more arrogant, more dictatorial and completely heartless. Despite the cold tingle of alarm his silken voice caused in her, stripping away some of her confidence, she lifted her chin.
‘You cannot bully me into compliance, Julius. I can see that my removing myself to the country has upset you, though I cannot for the life of me see why. What did you expect me to do—sit about all day and slowly go out of my mind?’
‘Other wives seem to find plenty to fill their days.’
‘Ha,’ she scoffed. ‘Running their husband’s house—in the kitchen and the pantry, discussing menus and counting linen, and when all that is done sitting by the fireside embroidering samplers and darning socks. When you left I did all that and found it tedious.’
‘For two weeks, Beatrice. You did that for two weeks, before you went haring off to Larkhill.’
‘And why not?’ she persisted. ‘I miss the freedom of the country—my horse. London is horrid in the summer. Most people take themselves off to the country.’
‘The Merricks don’t. They reside in London all the year round.’
‘Only because Lady Merrick likes London and likes being around people. Besides, they don’t have a country residence to retire to.’
Julius stared down at the tempestuous young woman, her