Page 19 of An Inconvenient Vow

“Solution?” Jeffree echoed, frowning. “What predicament?”

“If you would only throw your weight behind my claim, then the authorities will surely recognize my rightful ownership of Morecotte.”

“Why should the disposal of your late husband’s property concern me?”

Sabina pressed her lips together a moment and surveyed him grimly. “It is my property, Sir Jeffree,” she pointed out. “That is what I have been telling you.” When he continued to look unimpressed, she plunked her hands on her hips. “What if you tried considering it as an asset that I should have brought into this marriage?” she tried, using a different tack.

Jeffree snorted. What was it Osborn had said about the property? Some piddling estate. It was hardly up to his own standards, he that had been heir to Ganford Chase for twenty-eight years!

“Only consider,” Sabina urged, “how convenient it would be for me to have a home near that of my own family and not too far from Ganford Chase for appearance’s sake!”

Jeffree huffed. “Appearance’s sake?” he echoed. “So, you envisage yourself living life there, unencumbered by a husband, do you?” Even though the idea had decided merit, for some reason, it riled him that she should be trying to find ways to get rid of him already.

“Oh, that is a good idea!” exclaimed Isemay from the doorway. Directly she had said it, she placed a finger to her lips and looked back over her shoulder. Sabina grimaced and slipped back into her seat beside him as his mother-in-law returned to the room bearing a platter of spiced gingerbreads.

“Did I just hear the door?” Thora Burrell said, setting down the gingerbreads next to the honeyed ale that Isemay had brought. “That will be your father.” She bustled back out again, calling “Wilfred!” loudly down the corridor. Sabina leaned forward and started filling the cups.

“What will you do about ridding yourselves of your uninvited houseguest?” Isemay hissed, her eyes gleaming with anticipation. “And by that, I mean Alfred Hendry,” she explained to Jeffree quite needlessly. He wondered if his sister-in-law thought him lacking in intelligence.

Sabina cast him a sidelong look. “We have not had much opportunity for a council of war,” she admitted. “But I am sure we will hit on some stratagem.”

Jeffree opened his mouth to point out he had yet to pledge himself to the cause, but as Thora Burrell chose this moment to re-enter the room, dragging her husband in her wake, he shut it again smartly.

Wilfred Burrell patted his daughter on the shoulder, cleared his throat, shuffled his feet, and managed to greet Jeffree without quite meeting his eye.

“Mayhap you’ll grace us with your presence at supper this evening at Tipton Hall,” his new father-in-law suggested, clearing his throat.

For some gods forsaken reason, Jeffree found himself murmuring some agreement. Maybe he was lacking in wits. When Sabina rose from her seat moments later, he shot out a hand to detain her. “Where are you off to?”

She looked down at her arm in surprise and he released her. “I thought I would go up to my room.”

“To pack your things?”

A look of annoyance crossed her face. “If we are staying to supper, should we not stay the night here with my family?”

Jeffree suffered an unpleasant jolt, realizing three pairs of eyes were now trained on him with varying expressions of anxious anticipation for his reply. “We could, I suppose,” he answered begrudgingly, and instantly his mother-in-law’s face was wreathed in smiles.

“Isemay, Sabina, we must go at once and make the bedchamber ready, for you know the bedspread in your room is not fit to be seen by decent company. We must take the canopy from the guest bedroom at once.”

“Why can Sir Jeffree not just be set up in the guest bedchamber?” Isemay asked ingeniously. Her words were met with a heavy silence.

“Stupid child!” her mother upbraided her, recovering first. “The very idea that newlyweds should be put in separate chambers! Come now, girls, let us make ready!”

To his intense discomfort, Jeffree was left to make awkward conversation with Wilfred Burrell.

7

Their mother talked non-stop as they shook out and changed the bedding in Sabina’s bedchamber. So much so that neither of the sisters could get a word in edgeways.

“I do hope Sir Jeffree finds the room comfortable,” Thora Burrell fretted. “’Tis a vast pity that the view is not a prettier one from this window.”

“I always rather liked the view,” Sabina commented mildly. “You can see Langley Woods in the distance on a clear day.”

For her part, she was more worried about the fact she had no truckle bed or dressing room to stash an unwanted spouse in. She could not be so blatant as to refuse to share a chamber with him, so she would have to simply try and remake the bed so their sheets divided them.

“Do you think Sir Jeffree will be satisfied with a plain pork pie for supper?” her mother carried on uneasily. “I am sure they are used to far grander pies at Ganford Chase. Roasted venison and the like with the pastry all set out in their family crest.”

“He did not seem terribly appreciative of the fine supper he was served last night,” Sabina admitted distractedly.