Page 11 of Her Beautiful Bastard
“Sinclair,” he said, offering a hand. “Welcome home. I saw you coming up the lane from my window. How was Essex?”
“Quite the same as it was last time I was there, if you must know,” he jibed.
The other man laughed, falling in step with him as he approached the stairs. “I suppose you will want to get settled in before we discuss estate matters, but I thought it prudent to inform you that Lady Clayton has found a new governess.”
He paused on the landing, turning to face Charles with raised eyebrows. “Is that so? How long as said governess been in residence?”
“A fortnight, and the little beastie hasn’t chased her off yet,” Charles quipped. “I had high hopes for this one, and it seems I was right to place my faith in her. I conducted the preliminary interview, and strongly advised Lady Clayton to hire her before introducing them. She must have been impressed with Miss Darling, because the young lady was hired on the spot.”
“Darling?” he said with a little shake of his head. “What a name.”
Charles smiled at that. “Miss Lydia Darling … the surname is fitting, actually. You will see what I mean when you meet her. She and Henry have gotten on well together thus far, and Lady Clayton seems pleased with reports of his progress even after so short a time.”
He nodded his approval. “Very well. They are in the schoolroom, I suppose?”
“They are,” the other man confirmed.
“Good. I will go up to them in a moment. I take it Dru is in the usual place.”
“Of course,” Charles replied.
“Tell me, do I smell like a horse?” he asked, leaning close.
Charles inhaled and then shrugged one shoulder. “Most definitely.”
“Ah, so you are saying that I shouldnotgo into Drucilla’s drawing room just now, looking and smelling the way I do?”
Charles’ lips twitched, and he cast a quick glance at the closed door. “I wouldn’t advise it.”
“Excellent,” he murmured before throwing the door open without preamble.
He strode into the room, making a beeline to where she lay draped on her favorite chaise. His gaze flitted over her in cursory inspection, and he experienced not an ounce of the affection he’d once had for her. In truth, she made him cold, and had for quite some time. It was quite baffling how the pale, delicate beauty that had so enraptured him in his youth now disgusted him. Perhaps it was because he could see through her façade far better than anyone—knew the venom pumping through those delicate blue veins showing on the inside of her white, nearly translucent wrist.
She lay draped in one of her many dressing gowns, along with slippers sporting blue gems on the toes. Always a fashion plate, even when lying-in.
“Hello, my darling wife,” he muttered drolly, leaning down to kiss the top of her head for no other reason than it amused him the way she reared away, scrunching her nose.
“Honestly, Sinclair,” she snapped, waving her hand through the air before her face as she glared at him. “One would think you’d at least have the grace to bathe before coming in here. You know how sensitive I am to smells … and you look like hell.”
With a mocking grin, he dropped to one knee before her, remaining as close as possible. He was aware that his scent was notthatoffensive, but his wife was prone to dramatics.
“My dearest Dru, are you not happy to see me? I came straight to you, as my heart could stand the strain of separation no longer.”
Pulling a lace-edged handkerchief from the pocket of her dressing gown, she sneezed into it. With a sniffle, she glowered at him again.
“The whores you sully your prick with might think you amusing, but I do not,” she grumbled.
“No one would know what a whore finds amusing more than you,” he fired back, his tone biting and clipped.
She looked away from him, turning her gaze to some point across the room, her jaw growing tight. His hand curled into a fist as he rose, his gut churning with the familiar turmoil that never ceased to come over him in her presence. Hehatedwho he was when they were together … hated the sort of man he’d become since marrying her.
“There is a new governess,” she said, her voice edged in frigid scorn.
She saved all her warmth and love for Henry, and for that, at least, he was grateful. They might despise one another, but their mutual love for their son was one thing that offered them common ground. It was why when he’d first suggested Henry might be ready for a governess, Drucilla had agreed and undertaken the hiring herself.
“So Charles tells me,” he replied.
“I do not like how familiar you are with them, as if they are equal to us,” she groused. “Mr. Welbyis a servant and should not be allowed to traipse about this house using your Christian name. Whatever should the neighbors think if they catch wind of such things?”
