Page 18 of Miss Vincent’s Vow

Even worse. His supposedly genteel wife took pleasure in slaving over a hot oven. “Thank you. I appreciated the meal, and am loath to deprive you of any amusement, but I insist you stay out of the kitchen in future. I believe I explained my motivation to marry. If I am to do my part, then you must do yours too. As a gentlewoman in reduced circumstances, your presence in the kitchen was excusable. A necessity. Here, it is not.”

Cassandra folded her hands in her lap and raised her eyes to meet his gaze. “Very well. I will do as you ask. But so I don’t repeat my mistake, what do you consider is an acceptable way for me to spend my time?”

Was his wife serious? How was he supposed to know what a lady did all day? Her question sounded reasonable, as if she genuinely wanted to please him, but no answer flew to his mind, and it made him feel inadequate. It had been a long while since he had felt lacking, and he did not care for it.

“Do whatever ladies do. Buy some new clothes. Have tea with your friends. I thought you were a gentleman’s daughter. Surely you know how to behave like one?”

Cassandra paled at his harsh words, and when he saw the hurt in her eyes, Jethro wished he had curbed his unruly tongue.

She dropped her gaze, saying nothing in her own defence. After several moments of silence, which he was unsure how to break, she rose from her seat.

“If you’ll excuse me,” she said in a calm voice, “I will retire for the night. It has been a long day.”

He stood as well. Should he bow to his wife or shake her hand? Kiss her on the cheek?

“Goodnight,” he said, standing awkwardly, unsure what he should do and waiting for Cassandra to give him the lead.

But she didn’t make a move toward him. She bid him goodnight and left.

Jethro couldn’t blame her, but he wished she had stayed. His anger disappeared as fast as it had come, seeing her look so sad, so vulnerable, when he’d snapped at her. He hated knowing he was responsible.

He could have thumped himself for his clumsiness. This woman was his wife, and he had vowed to love her, but so far, he’d only shown her what a bad-tempered, ungentlemanlike oaf she had married.

Was he breaking his wedding vows already? Kindness was part of love, and she had shown him plenty, but all he had done was to throw it back in her face.

What had he been thinking? To suppose that marriage could be a business arrangement, to achieve his aims without impacting the rest of his life.

He had a responsibility toward the woman he had married that went beyond giving her a home. He had promised to love and cherish her—yes, cherish.

How in heaven’s name was he supposed to do that?

Chapter 9

That night, Cassandra slept in fits and starts, not because the bed was uncomfortable, but because her mind would not be still. She could not stop thinking of her husband, who lay on the other side of the door.

What manner of man had she wed? She had convinced herself marriage to Jethro was God’s answer to her problems, but it had not started well. He seemed as displeased with her as she was with him. She hoped they would not both come to rue the promises they’d made.

Cassandra was relieved when morning came and with it, new hope. She would try harder to be the wife that Jethro wanted. It couldn’t be that difficult, could it?

She realised she’d forgotten to ask him what time he ate breakfast. She supposed Jethro was so used to eating alone he had not thought to tell her.

For a moment, she considered knocking on the adjoining door and asking, but her courage failed her. She would dress and go downstairs, and hope breakfast would be served soon.

Cassandra could have dressed by herself, as all her current gowns fastened at the front, but she dared not risk offending Jethro by refusing the maid he had provided, and rang for Sally to help her.

It took rather longer for the girl to answer her summons than Cassandra had hoped. No doubt Sally needed time to adapt to her new role, just as her mistress needed time to adapt to hers.

When Cassandra finally made it downstairs, she discovered Jethro had breakfasted without her and already departed for the warehouse. She quashed her disappointment and prepared to spend a day of leisure. Obedient to her husband’s wishes, she did not venture into the kitchen again, but spent the hours reading and working on her embroidery.

She would have been glad of company, but she could not face the prospect of leaving the house and risk facing the shocked reaction of others to her marriage. If she could delay her first outing as a married woman until Sunday, at least she would not have to deal with such reactions alone.

Jethro didn’t return home until shortly before five. She did not need to remind him to change his dress. It was as well, for she was not sure she would have dared, as she had no wish to provoke another fiery outburst.

Over dinner, Jethro enquired after her day, and she described how she had employed her time, but when she asked the same question of him, she received the briefest of answers in reply, as if it was none of her business.

He didn’t join her in the drawing room for coffee, and when she retired for the night, she felt even less satisfied with her marriage than she had been the day before.

The rest of the week passed in the same manner. If she hadn’t seen Jethro over the dining table each evening, Cassandra would have supposed she was his lodger, not his wife.