The Marriage Contract (Marriage #3) - Cathy Maxwell Page 0,43

hair. She knew he’d given her pins.

“What’s in the package?” Hugh asked.

“Nothing important,” Anne answered, closing her fist around the pins. She took her seat.

What was his game now? To embarrass her into returning to London? She tossed her hair defiantly and immediately wished she could crawl under the table and hide.

Aidan and Hugh took their places at the table just as Norval and Fenella started to serve. Fenella wasn’t expected to serve, but even in her uneasy state, Anne noticed she favored Hugh by moving to him first.

Bitterly she wished the girl well. She herself had enough of love. Cupid’s dart stung.

“Anne, are you feeling well?” her husband asked in a low voice.

She glanced up at him sitting beside her, their elbows inches from each other. He seemed genuinely concerned for her health, while uncaring for her feelings. The pain of his rejection was so sharp, it hurt to look at him. She lowered her eyes. “I’m fine.”

“You’re so quiet. And you haven’t touched anything on your plate.”

Anne picked up her fork. The dinner was peas and stuffed grouse. She made a pretense of eating.

She thought it would be enough, that he would leave her alone. He didn’t.

“I haven’t done something to offend you, have I?”

“No, nothing at all,” she answered. “You’ve treated me like a crown princess.”

Aidan leaned back, stung by her scorn. “What have I done to made you angry?”

“Nothing,” she replied, stabbing a pea so viciously with her fork, it split the poor thing in half.

He checked on Deacon and Hugh to ensure they hadn’t overheard anything. Hugh was too preoccupied watching the sway of Fenella’s hips as she carried the serving bowl out of the room to have noticed a herd of elephants if they’d marched into the room.

But Deacon had overheard their exchange. He met Aidan’s gaze with a level one of his own in commiseration and then went back to his meal.

Aidan knew he should leave the matter alone, but he couldn’t. He covered his mouth with his hand so Deacon couldn’t hear and whispered, “You don’t like the pins?”

Her fingers tightened around her fork. “They are…lovely.”

If she thought they were lovely, why hadn’t she said so? And why did he have the distinct impression they were anything but fine?

“I couldn’t get you gold ones. The shop didn’t have any.”

She swerved in her seat to confront him. “I expect nothing from you.” Her voice was hard, tight as if she were held back stronger emotions.

“Anne—?”

“Excuse me.” She cut him off. She lay her fork down and looked to Hugh. “I’m not feeling well. I fear I must go to my room.”

She didn’t wait for a reply, but pushed back her chair and dashed for the stairs. Aidan barely had a chance to rise.

He sat back down. She had taken the pins. She’d had them in her free hand all through dinner. So, she must like them—?

“Did you understand any of that?” he asked the room in general.

“Any of what?” Hugh answered, stuffing another slice of bread in his mouth.

“None of it,” Deacon responded.

Aidan seized upon his answer. “So, you agree with me Anne was definitely out of sorts?”

“She said she didn’t feel well,” Hugh said.

Deacon drained his ale mug and set it aside before answering. “I take it you gave her a gift?”

“Oh, was the package from you?” Hugh asked, as if fitting together pieces of a puzzle.

Aidan didn’t answer. He felt a bit silly, especially since the pins hadn’t pleased her at all…and he was surprised at how much he had anticipated her pleasure in his gift.

“Tiebauld, forget it,” Deacon advised. He sat back in his chair and put one booted heel on the table. “Women are silly creatures. You can’t credit anything they say.”

“I thought you didn’t like her because she was English. I didn’t realize you felt this way toward all women.”

Deacon frowned. “I like women well enough in their proper place.” He grinned and added, “In the bedroom.”

Hugh guffawed at the joke but Aidan didn’t laugh. “You know, Deacon, you’re a snob. I just never recognized it before.”

“I’m no snob.”

“Yes, you are,” Aidan said. “Either that or you’re mad at the world and want everyone to join you.”

Deacon’s chin lifted pugnaciously. “I admit to strong views.”

“No, dogged views. There is a difference.” Aidan stood. “Goodnight, gentlemen.” He left the room.

Behind him, he heard Hugh ask, “What did Tiebauld mean by that, Deacon?”

Deacon didn’t answer.

Upstairs, Aidan headed straight for his room. Anne could truly be ill and if so, he