“I’m sorry,” Lord Lockwood said, turning to look at Alys. “I didn’t realize you were behind me.”
A slap against her cheek took Alys unawares, sending her reeling against the sideboard where the silverware was kept. Her hip collided with the corner painfully. She let out a cry but instantly stifled it, afraid to upset Lady Lockwood further. Her mistress stood before her, shaking with rage, her lips pressed into a thin line.
“Get out, you useless slattern,” she hissed. “And send someone to clean this up. I don’t want to see you again tonight.”
“Marjorie, it was entirely my fault,” Lord Lockwood said. He looked angry as he pushed away from the table and rose to his feet, towering over his wife. “You will apologize to Alys,” he said.
“What?” Lady Marjorie stared at him, uncomprehending.
“It was my fault she spilled the wine,” Lord Lockwood repeated. “You will apologize to Alys for striking her.” Lord Lockwood’s voice was low, but there was steel in it and his wife realized it, her shock evident.
Alys wished the floor would open up and swallow her. Although grateful, she would have preferred that Lord Lockwood not come to her defense. The incident would have been forgotten had he not intervened, but Lady Lockwood would never forgive the debasement of having to apologize to a servant. She wouldn’t take out her anger on her husband; she’d take it out on Alys.
“Sorry,” Lady Lockwood spat out, her gaze not quite meeting Alys’s. Her hands were balled into fists, and her cheeks blazed with humiliation. “I shouldn’t have done that.”
“Think nothing of it, my lady,” Alys muttered, and fled.
She thought she’d hear raised voices as soon as she left the dining room, but all she heard was silence, which was so much more telling.
Chapter 27
Jeremy
Once Marjorie stormed from the room, Jeremy reluctantly followed her upstairs. She flew at him as soon as he shut the door to her bedchamber.
“How dare you humiliate me like that in front of a servant!” Marjorie hissed. Her eyes blazed with anger, an improvement on her usual impassive stare that seemed to pass right through him as if he weren’t even in the room.
“She’d done nothing wrong,” Jeremy replied calmly. “You had no cause to strike her.”
“How like you to take her side.”
“I’m not taking sides. You were unnecessarily harsh.”
“Perhaps you’re not harsh enough,” Marjorie retorted. “You should remember your place as the lord of a great house.”
“You needn’t remind me of my place, Marjorie,” Jeremy snapped. The woman really galled him. “And I would thank you not to raise your voice to me. You will show me the proper respect due a husband,” he added for good measure. “And, since we’re on the subject of our places in this household, you will dress as befits my lady. I don’t want to see you in these drab gowns ever again.”
“I can’t abide frippery,” Marjorie cried, her gaze sliding to the slashed sleeves of Jeremy’s brocade doublet. “Surely you can understand the desire for modesty and restraint over the gaudiness and ostentation that mocks our Lord’s humble origins.”
Jeremy took a deep breath, forcing himself not to react in anger. She was his wife, and he should make an effort to respect her feelings. “I do understand,” he replied patiently. “And it is not my intention to mock your beliefs. All I ask is that you abandon black and gray and choose fabrics and colors more appropriate to your station.”
“But—” Marjorie began, but Jeremy held up his hand to silence her.
“Surely you can acquiesce to blue. The Virgin herself wore a mantle of blue.”
Marjorie opened her mouth to argue but wisely refrained from challenging him. “Yes, husband,” she muttered, lowering her gaze.
“Now, undress and get into bed,” Jeremy ordered. He felt no desire for her, but he had to do his duty, and anger was at times as effective an aphrodisiac as lust. He no longer bothered to try to rouse her but kept a vial of oil by the bed. She was dry as dust otherwise.
Jeremy shut his eyes and allowed Alys’s luminous face to hover before him as he took his fuming wife, praying to God that he’d get her with child so he wouldn’t have to do this anymore. He’d rather remain celibate than spend another moment so intimately connected to this woman who seemed to despise him.
Done with his distasteful task, Jeremy dressed and went in search of Alys. He had no wish to single her out or make difficulties for her, but he needed to see her. She wasn’t in any of the downstairs rooms or the kitchen, where he asked for a cup of ale to disguise his true purpose. It wouldn’t do to search for Alys in the attic, where the servants had their rooms high up in the rafters, so he went out to the stables. His groom, Peter, was there, dicing with a few other lads.
“Is there anything I can do for you, my lord?” Peter asked, springing to his feet. He smelled of strong drink and horses and looked guilty as sin. Perhaps he’d been cheating.
Jeremy was about to ask Peter to deliver a note to Alys but suddenly realized she might not be able to read it. “Can you deliver a message for me?”
“Course, my lord.”
Jeremy opened his mouth to speak, then shut it again. How would it look if someone overheard Peter asking Alys to meet him? Besides, Alys had looked workworn when she’d served them at supper. She might already be abed, and he had no
