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Brighter Than the Sun (The Lyndon Sisters #2) Page 41
Author: Julia Quinn

"Of course not," he replied.

"For the love of—" Ellie caught herself before she blasphemed. Really, her father would have a fit if he'd heard how badly her language had deteriorated in the two days since she'd left his household. Marriage was having a bad effect on her temper, that was certain.

Charles looked at the ground, suddenly feeling rather ashamed. His aunt Cordelia had been crying, "Fire!" once a day since he could remember. He should have had a bit more faith in his wife. "Do you like to garden?" he mumbled.

"Yes. I hope you will not mind if I do some work in here."

"Not at all."

They stood silently for a full thirty seconds. Ellie tapped her toe. Charles drummed his fingers against his thigh. Finally Ellie reminded herself that she wasn't naturally a meek person and she blurted out, "You're still angry with me, aren't you?"

He looked up, clearly surprised that she'd voiced the question. "That might be one way of describing it."

"I'm angry with you, too."

"That fact has not escaped my notice."

His dry tone infuriated her. It was as if he were making fun of her distress. "I'll have you know," she stormed, "that I never imagined my marriage as the dry, bloodless contract you seem to anticipate."

He chuckled and crossed his arms. "You probably never imagined being married to me."

"If that isn't the most egotistical—"

"And furthermore," he interrupted, "if our marriage is 'bloodless,' as you so delicately put it, it is because you have chosen not to consummate the union."

Ellie gasped at his crudeness. "You, sir, are despicable."

"No, I merely want you. Why, for the life of me I don't know. But I do."

"Does lust always make men so horrid?"

He shrugged. "I wouldn't know. I've never had this much difficulty getting a woman into bed before. And I was never married to any of the other ones."

Ellie gasped again. She certainly didn't know the ins and outs of a typical ton marriage, but she was fairly certain husbands weren't supposed to discuss their amorous pursuits in front of their wives. "I do not have to listen to this kind of talk," she said. "I'm leaving."

She made it halfway to the door when she turned around. "No," she said, "I want to garden. You leave."

"Ellie, may I point out that this is my house?"

"It is my house now, too. I want to garden. You don't. Therefore, you leave."

"Eleanor..."

"I am finding it very difficult to fully appreciate the pleasure of your company," she ground out.

Charles shook his head. "Fine. Sink yourself into the dirt up to your elbows if you wish. I have better things to do than stand here and argue with you."

"As have I."

"Fine."

"Fine!" He stomped out.

Ellie rather thought they sounded like a pair of squabbling children, but at that point she was too enraged to care.

* * *

The newlyweds managed to avoid each other's company for two days, and they probably would have been able to continue in this solitary manner for even longer had not disaster struck.

Ellie was breakfasting when Helen entered the small dining room, her face scrunched up in an expression of distaste.

"Is something amiss, Helen?" Ellie asked, trying not to notice that the kitchen still hadn't resumed service of toast.

"Have you any idea what that dreadful smell in the south wing is? I nearly swooned on my way over."

"I didn't notice any smell. I came down by way of the side stairs, and ..." Ellie's heart dropped. The orangery. Oh, please, not the orangery. It was off the south wing. "Oh, dear," she mumbled, jumping to her feet. She ran through the halls, Helen right behind her. If something had happened in the orangery she didn't know what she would do. It was the only place in this Godforsaken mausoleum she felt at home.

As Ellie neared her destination, a terrible, rotten stench assaulted her. "Oh, my word!" she gasped. "What is that?"

"It's awful, isn't it?" Helen agreed.

Ellie entered the orangery and what she saw made her want to cry. The rosebushes—which she had already fallen in love with—were dead, their leaves looking almost singed. Petals littered the floor, and the bushes gave off the most hideous stench. She covered her nose. "Who would do such a thing?" She turned to Helen and repeated, "Who?"

Helen stared at her a moment and then finally said,

"Ellie, you are the only one who likes to spend time in the orangery."

"Surely you don't think I... You think I did this?"

"I don't think you did this on purpose," Helen replied, looking very uncomfortable. "Anyone could see how much you enjoyed gardening. Perhaps you put something in the soil. Or misted something onto it you ought not have."

"I did no such thing!" Ellie insisted. "I—"

"Good God!" Charles entered the orangery, one hand holding a handkerchief over his nose and mouth. "What is that smell?"

"My rosebush!" Ellie nearly wailed. "Look what someone has done to it."

Charles planted his hands on his hips as he surveyed the damage, then accidentally breathed through his nose and coughed. "The devil take it, Eleanor, how did you manage to kill off the rosebushes in only two days? It always took my mother at least a year to do such damage."

"I had nothing to do with this!" she yelled. "Nothing!"

Claire chose that moment to enter the scene. "Did something die in the orangery?" she asked.

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Julia Quinn's Novels
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» On the Way to the Wedding (Bridgertons #8)
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» An Offer From a Gentleman (Bridgertons #3)
» The Viscount Who Loved Me (Bridgertons #2)
» The Duke and I (Bridgertons #1)
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