Page 33 of A Kiss Gone Wylde
Payne stared across the breakfast table at his wife. His very cool, very absent and apparently very well rested wife. There were no hollows under her eyes. She sat there, drinking her tea, eating her kippers and appearing to have nary a care in the world. Had he been a man prone to committing violence against a woman, he might well have throttled her. But he was not that man. So he would simply sit there in silence and glower at her as she liberally buttered a piece of toast.
His mother had departed an hour earlier, amidst much protest and hysteria. They were extremes. His mother loud and wailing over the slightest inconvenience or insult—though he supposed eviction was certainly worthy of some degree of upset—while Benny appeared to be unflappable in the face of anything. They had known one another slightly less than a week and already they were at odds. Recalling their initial ride home from Vauxhall in his barouche, he had to admit that they’d begun at odds. Surely that ought to have worried someone other than him.
Payne glanced at the plate before him, his appetite having disappeared entirely. With a sound of disgust, more at himself than at anything pertaining to the food itself, he shoved the plate away.
“Is something wrong with your breakfast? I’d be happy to ask cook to prepare something else for you. That is one of my duties now, is it not? To take care of the menus and to be certain everything is to your liking?” Benny asked, her expression quite sunny and her voice absolutely dulcet.
“The food is fine,” he answered.
She frowned, that slight furrow forming between her brows. But there was something in her eyes that hinted at meanness, at pettiness and vengefulness. “Perhaps you are ill. I can send someone to fetch the physician for you. That certainly falls under the heading of wifely duties, does it not?”
His back teeth were going to be ground into nubs. Fighting the urge to simply throw something, he answered, “If I needed a physician, then yes, I suppose that it would. But I am neither ill nor injured.”
The frown vanished and a smile appeared in its place. Vapid. False. Belonging to one of those creatures on the marriage mart that never had a thought or mood that was not directly and strategically for the purpose of snaring a husband. “Are you certain? Your pallor appears a bit… sickly. And you have deep hollows beneath your eyes. Yesterday was a trying day. Perhaps a tincture for your nerves?”
“Bloody everlasting hell! I do not need a damned tincture,” he snapped.
Benny’s beatific smile never slipped. “Certainly. Naturally, you would know best.”
“What the devil has gotten into you?” Payne asked. “You aren’t even remotely like yourself!”
“With all due respect, husband, how would you know? We are practically strangers, after all,” she replied, her voice smooth as silk. “If you’ll pardon me, my lord, it is past time that I begin seeing to my duties as the current Baroness Davenport. If I am to run your home as befits your station, and now mine, I will need to learn all that I can from your wonderfully trained servants. I’ll bid you good morning and hope, with all my heart, that you have apleasantday.”
Having had his own, albeit unintentionally, hurtful words tossed back into his face with a skill that left him feeling rather like he’d been flayed, Payne watched her sail from the room. She was barely five feet tall. His saddle weighed more than she did. And she’d positively skewered him.
* * *
It didn’t feel victorious. Victory, Benny thought, was not something to be won in a day. But she was fairly certain she’d come out on top in that little skirmish. Now, if she could only stick to it and have at least some semblance of willpower.
All she wanted was his touch—to feel his arms around her again, his lips on hers, and of course all the wickedly wonderful things he did to the rest of her. But for the moment she’d need to hold firm. The only way she knew to be entirely certain that he wanted to be marriedto herwas to show him what it would be like to be marriedto someone else.And since she had absolutely no intention of allowing some other woman to move into the house and take over those duties, temporarily modeling the standards of feminine behavior was the best she could do.
Of course, Benny thought, it could all blow up in her face. What if he liked having such a solicitous wife? What if some simpering and dutiful dolt really was what men wanted? It would certainly explain why spinsterhood had, until recently, been her only option. No one could ever have mistaken Benny as docile.
Retreating to the small sitting room on the second floor, she waited for the housekeeper to arrive. She did intend to change a few things about how the house was run. Payne’s mother had left that morning, presumably for some sort of journey, as her bags had been packed. It was the perfect time to stage a coup.
Benny had no more than seated herself when Mrs. Turley entered, bearing a tray with chocolate and pastries. Given that Benny had walked away from her breakfast before actually consuming much of it, she was grateful for the scones.
“Mrs. Turley, you are a treasure,” Benny said. “Thank you.”
The woman positively beamed at the praise. “Tis nothing, my lady, only a spot of tea on this cold morning. You wished to talk about the household.”
“I did,” Benny said. “Come and sit with me. Tell me everything. I want to know it all, from the attics to the cellar.”
Mrs. Turley placed the tray before Benny and then seated herself opposite her at the small table. “The house has six bedrooms including the master chamber. The nursery is on the floor above, so I suppose it could be considered a seventh bedroom. The other half of the uppermost floor contains the servants quarters. Female staff are on that floor. The male staff have rooms in another area of the house, just off the kitchen. I like them where I can keep an eye on them. Not to be trusted. Most footmen are too handsome and know it. My room is there, as are Mr. Barrett’s.”
Benny felt the panic starting to rise. “Mrs. Turley, I will admit this to you in the strictest of confidence… I haven’t a clue what I am doing. I know nothing of running a house this size. Should his lordship and I ever entertain, I have no idea where to even begin. All I know is that his mother detests me and she will undermine me at every turn unless I have an ally.”
Mrs. Turley blinked in surprise. Then she shook her head.
Benny was utterly crestfallen. “I see. I understand that you have served the dowager for many years—.”
“No, my lady. I am not saying nay to being your ally. But you need not worry about her ladyship. Those trunks you saw this morning were not for travel—for a holiday. She has been moved to another household. Lord Davenport saw to it yesterday. Made all the arrangements and then told her what for. At the risk of being impertinent, we’ve all been waiting for years to see that happen!”
Benny could only blink. “He made her leave?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“But why?”
