The Inconvenient Elmswood Marriage. Marguerite Kaye

to London for a new wardrobe of clothes, and you’d struggle to find anything more sartorial than a fleece shirt and brogues in the village. There’s your father’s clothes, of course, they are packed up in the attic, but—’

      ‘I would rather dress as a farmhand,’ he snapped.

      There were so many questions raised by that one sentence—questions she’d asked herself over the years since they had married—but now was hardly the time. Perhaps there would never be a time.

      The last time he’d been home, eleven years ago, Daniel had remained at Elmswood barely long enough for her to promise to love, honour and obey him. They’d married by special licence, because technically, he’d been was in mourning, though she had known he hadn’t been able to bear the thought of waiting another six weeks for the banns to be read.

      This time she hadn’t exactly dragged him back to England kicking and screaming, but if he’d been strong enough to do more than protest weakly then she doubted he’d be here—despite the orders he’d received.

      How long would he remain? Lord, look at him—he was hardly in a state to go anywhere. The florid dressing gown was far too large for him. He had, she suspected, put it on in an attempt to disguise his loss of weight, not realising that it merely drew attention to the fact. He had shaved too. She wasn’t surprised. As she had tended to him on their protracted journey from Cyprus to Crete, then on to Malta and Gibraltar, Lisbon, Portsmouth and finally home, one of his biggest bugbears, in the intervals when he had been lucid enough to have bugbears, had been his unkempt beard.

      He had not permitted Kate to wield his razor for him, and she had not allowed him to try to use it himself, having visions of him accidentally slitting his own throat, so she had been forced to beg the services of a weird and wonderful assortment of stand-in barbers on his behalf.

      ‘What? Have I nicked myself?’ he asked her now.

      She realised she’d been staring and shook her head.

      ‘Then you’re thinking that I look like death warmed up.’

      ‘I’m thinking that you look remarkably well, all things considered.’

      Which was true, and if anything an understatement. He looked gaunt, and there were shadows under his eyes, new lines on his brow, but somehow they suited him. It was unfair, for the lines she’d acquired in the last few months simply aged her, while with Daniel the changes served to accentuate the fact that he was a lethally attractive man. Dammit!

      ‘I didn’t expect to see you up and about so soon,’ Kate said, her tone made acerbic not by his presence but by her reaction to it.

      ‘You can’t keep me secreted away in my bedchamber, no matter how much you’d like to.’

      As he closed the door behind him and made his way carefully over to the chair opposite hers by the empty grate Kate remembered that behind the attractive façade there was an extremely infuriating man, and gritted her teeth.

      ‘I don’t know why you are so convinced that I want to imprison you here.’

      ‘Not you—them.’ He showed his teeth. ‘The irony is not lost on me that I’ve been sprung from one gaol only to be forced into another. I will concede that you are a reluctant warder, but you are charged with keeping me here nonetheless.’

      ‘I trust you won’t put me to the test. Having travelled halfway across the world to bring you home, I’d rather not chase you halfway across Shropshire to drag you back.’

      ‘Would you really do that?’ He grinned. ‘I’d rather like to see you try.’

      ‘I won’t have to,’ Kate replied tartly. ‘Go on—why don’t you leave right now? Walk down to the village…hire a post chaise.’

      ‘I have no need to do any such thing. I have horses and a post chaise of my own.’

      ‘Actually, you don’t. There’s a carriage, but it’s not been used in heaven knows how long, and aside from my mount, and the pony who pulls the trap, and the farm horses, the stables are empty. So you’ll just have to walk. Please, don’t let me stop you.’ She smiled sweetly at him.

      For a moment she thought he might actually call her bluff, but then he gave an exasperated sigh.

      ‘You know as well as I do that I’m under orders to remain here. Hopefully it won’t be for long, for the terms of our marriage did not anticipate any form of cohabitation. I’m sure you don’t want me here, getting under your feet and treading on your toes, and I assure you that I have no intention of doing so. This is your domain, not mine.’

      ‘This is your home, Daniel.’

      ‘No, it’s your home and my gaol, albeit a considerably more comfortable one than the last. I wish to hell they hadn’t embroiled you in this diplomatic mess.’

      ‘I’m your wife,’ Kate said tightly, ‘the most obvious person to become embroiled, as you put it.’

      ‘My wife in name only. I married you to look after Elmswood, not me.’

      ‘You were at death’s door, for heaven’s sake!’

      Kate gazed down at her hands, counting slowly to ten. It was the same refrain he’d uttered on and off since he’d first recovered consciousness in Cyprus almost two months ago, and it was beginning to grate. Seriously grate.

      ‘I won’t apologise for doing what was asked of me. You’re my husband, and it’s my duty to take care of you to the best of my ability. That’s what I did, and as a result you are alive to berate me for it. If that is the price I must pay for what I did, then so be it.’

      A tense silence followed, in which they both glowered at each other, and then, to her surprise and relief, Daniel laughed. ‘I’ve married a despot! And I should know—I’ve met a few!’

      She didn’t know what to make of that, so instead said, ‘If you would be a little more co-operative and conciliatory then I wouldn’t have to fight you every step of the way.’

      ‘Ah! So you admit that you have been imposing your will on me? In my book, that’s a despot. Or a tyrant, if you prefer.’

      ‘I prefer—’ Kate stopped short, narrowing her eyes. ‘Are you teasing me?’

      Daniel grinned. ‘Only a little. Do you mind?’

      She smiled reluctantly. ‘I suppose if I say yes it will only encourage you.’

      ‘Which would be extremely churlish of me. I rather think it’s me who’s been the tyrant.’

      ‘You’ve been very ill.’

      ‘That doesn’t mean my temper is obliged to follow suit. You’re a diplomat, as well as a despot. Have I said thank you at any point?’

      ‘There’s no need to thank me. We are married, I was doing my wifely duty.’

      ‘And your duty to your country, as they doubtless pressed upon you,’ Daniel said, rolling his eyes. ‘But there are very few wives who would have done what you did. Diplomat, despot, whatever other qualities you have, you are a very remarkable woman.’

      ‘Thank you. I think.’

      ‘Oh, it is a compliment—you must not doubt it. And as to thanks—it is I who owe you profound gratitude,’ Daniel said. ‘I wish you had not been involved, but I do understand that the powers that be gave you little choice in the matter. I wonder—’ Daniel broke off, shaking his head. ‘It doesn’t matter.’

      ‘You wonder how they came to decide that I could be trusted to do what they asked? I have wondered the same myself. I had plenty time to fill, after all, as they shifted me from pillar to post to preserve my cover story. I decided that they must have sounded Alexander out. He would be the natural choice. I presume I am right in thinking his previous position at the Admiralty masked the fact that he was in the same line of business—do you