Page 54 of An Inconvenient Vow

“Why do you say that?”

She cast a quick glance in the direction of the others riding ahead. “You say you have forgiven me, Sir Jeffree, for what I did that day, in the Great Hall at Ganford Chase.” Her voice cracked slightly, making him feel strangely ill at ease. “But experience has taught me that you will fling it in my face every time I incur your displeasure.”

“What experience?” he demanded. “Experience with me, or with another who came before me?”

When she looked strangely stricken by his words, he almost stopped. Then, suddenly the necessity of being understood seemed overwhelming. “I ask you, wife, is this fair? You are quick to judge me on the standards of another.”

The color in Sabina’s cheeks seemed to deepen. She swallowed. “You may be right,” she answered at last. “If you say all is forgotten, then I will take you at your word.”

He had not actually said it was forgotten, but for the moment, he allowed this to pass. “I meant no allusion to our marriage when I spoke of the May Day tournament,” he continued tersely.

“I knew that already,” she replied at once. “You are not so subtle in your methods.”

Jeffree huffed out a breath. “It is a good thing that I have a strong sense of self-worth,” he said caustically, “or it would surely lie in tatters at my feet, thanks to you.”

She smiled slightly at that. “I hardly think your self-worth is in any jeopardy from me, Sir Jeffree.”

Jeffree was not so sure. “I think you should address me by my name alone now, wife,” he answered with a frown. “Do you not agree?

“And will you use my given name?” she asked. “Or continue to call me madam in that odious manner of yours?”

Instead of pointing out there were worse things he could call her in perfect truth, he held his tongue. So far, she had a way of making him regret any venting he’d ever partaken in at her expense. “Tell me about the time we were introduced at the Bishop’s Palace,” he said instead, surprising them both.

As soon as she had recovered from it, Sabina pulled a face. “Alas, there is not much to tell.”

“Who were you with?” Even he could hear the thread of tension running through his voice. For some reason, he did not want it to have been her late husband.

“My Aunt Mabel,” she answered, and his shoulders relaxed at once.

“And who is that?” he asked after the tiniest pause. She had not mentioned an aunt before, had she?

Sabina looked amused by his sudden curiosity. “My mother’s sister. She lives some five miles from Tipton Hall with her husband, whose name is Jessop.”

“And what do they do, these Jessops?” he pressed when she seemed disinclined to continue.

“Uncle Jessop is a master builder. He designed the new hall for the Bishop’s Palace, which is why we were invited that day to mix in such lofty company.”

Jeffree ignored her faintly mocking tone. “And you say we were introduced?”

“That we were.”

Jeffree shot a quick glance at her. He could vaguely remember visiting the new wing of the Bishop of Ganford’s residence a couple of years ago, but little else. “What were you wearing?” he asked, in a vague effort to spark some remembrance of the occasion.

Sabina opened her mouth and then closed it again. “I do not remember,” she said at last, unconvincingly.

Jeffree found himself suddenly convinced it would have been that shabby red gown she had married him in. It must have been her best gown for at least five years. “What was I wearing?” he tested her.

She laughed. “Something very peacocky, I have no doubt. My aunt said you were the handsomest man she had ever met; I remember that much.”

“And what reply made you?”

She darted a quick look at him. “That too, I forget,” she lied so smartly that he could not check the reluctant smile that sprang to his lips.

“I just bet you do.” Sabina laughed again, looking completely unabashed. Suddenly, he was annoyed that the memory eluded him. He should remember her, gods damn it. He had never met anyone else quite like her.

He continued to gaze at her in bafflement until her laughter abated. “You must have been unaccustomedly well-behaved that day,” he said sounding vaguely accusatory, “else I would have noticed you, to be sure.”

Sabina shook her head. “You have the oddest notions about me, Sir Jeffree. First, you say I am dangerously reckless and then you are convinced I am in some way memorable. I am sure you must have been introduced to dozens of women of my ilk. I am wholly unremarkable I assure you.”