Lord Clayborne's Fancy Read Online Free PDF Page A

probably could think of no way to explain such an action to Hawkins.”
    Nonetheless, she kept to the estate for the first few days, and thereafter took a groom with her when she rode beyond its confines. There was no sense in exacerbating his anger, though she would dearly have loved to shock him. She dreamed of imprisoning him in the stables and jumping every fence in sight, bareback as she had as a child, and him impotent to do anything about it. Such visions gave her strength to face him when she had to.
    Most days he was at home to dine, and before the servants he kept up an appearance of sociability with his wife. In detailing the trivia of the estate to her, he conveyed more information than he thought. Obviously he was concerned for his land and his tenants and his responsibilities weighed heavily on him. It had been otherwise with her father, and she tried to convey her appreciation.
    “My father took little interest in his land, and has suffered from his carelessness. The Hall could be far more productive, as Gray Oaks appears to be,” Rebecca offered one evening.
    Clayborne waved the servants from the room and regarded her with steely eyes. “Your parents were obviously negligent with their daughters as well. I hold them very much to account.”
    “You are mistaken, sir,” she replied through clenched teeth. “Negligent my parents may have been, but you have no one but yourself to account to for your ludicrous misconception. I fear for your reason, my lord.”
    “Go to your room!” Shocked at himself for blurting such a thing, he immediately retracted. “No, stay. I will not have my household upset by our disagreements. Finish your meal.”
    Rebecca, her appetite hardly stimulated by this atmosphere, toyed with her food. The enormous dining hall was so quiet that even the sounds of forks on plates seemed swallowed in the silence. She assumed a martyred air to cover her shame and anger, sighing pitifully as she pushed the remnants of her meal about her plate.
    There were few attitudes that could have more infuriated her husband. Her injured, self-righteous bearing, given the circumstances, disgusted him. Had she no shame? She should be begging him on bended knee to forgive her! And, after a judicious amount of time, and sufficient repentance on her part, he would have been prepared to do so. But this! Adding insult to injury! There was obviously no hope for her, and his pride rebelled.
    Since her husband made no further attempt to visit her suite, Rebecca soon adopted the habit of retiring to her room immediately after her meal, to draw or read sometimes, but usually to search her mind for a solution to this unbearably oppressive situation.
    When this state of affairs had continued for several weeks and Rebecca was looking rather peaked and thin, Clayborne announced at dinner one evening, “I leave in the morning for my estate in Yorkshire. I have no idea when I shall return.”
    “I am to remain at Gray Oaks, I presume,” Rebecca said timidly.
    “Certainly. Mrs. Lambert has been instructed to have a care for you and grant you any indulgence within reason.”
    “You are too good, my lord. Does this indulgence run to my refurbishing some of the rooms? Not the library or study, of course,” she hastened to add.
    “I cannot imagine why you should wish to do so.”
    “I plan a lengthy stay, my lord,” she replied sweetly, her hands gripping the table edge for courage.
    “I don’t care what you do to the house. It makes no difference now,” he retorted angrily.
    “I am sure you will have no objection to any improvements I might make. I am thought to have exquisite taste,” she taunted, desperate for some sign of interest from him.
    “No doubt,” he replied dampingly. “I shall mention the matter to Bridge.” He refused to be drawn into any further conversation with her. It was painful for him to talk with her, to even see her in his home. When he had found, on their wedding night, that she was