by Rose Gordon
Shedding her clothes, she crawled into bed, heedless of needing a bath. She was so tired she feared she might fall asleep in the tub and drown. And with her luck, he’d be the one to find her dead, naked body.
Today wasn’t all bad, she thought pulling the covers up. He’d been rather nice in the carriage. Perhaps Madison and Brooke were right and he was nice, or perhaps, it was all a ruse and his real personality would present itself the next day. It didn’t really matter, she told herself. No matter what atrocious thing he did, she was determined to be as sweet as sugar in return, even if she seethed on the inside like she was doing just now.
After what felt like an extended blink, Liberty’s eyes opened to see the sun shining through her uncovered window. Rubbing her sleepy eyes, Liberty gained her feet and looked around for her clothes.
Selecting a green day gown out of the one trunk that had been brought up, she draped it over the dressing screen then went to where she thought the bell pull was only to find it was disconnected. “Now what?” she muttered. How was she supposed to get hot water for her bath?
She searched through her trunk and found there wasn’t a single dressing gown in there. Deciding it wasn’t worth it to try stuffing herself back into the gown from yesterday, Liberty left her room in only her chemise and tiptoed to the stairs. “Hello,” she called.
Nobody answered.
Last night she’d been introduced to Mrs. Siddons, their only fulltime house servant who worked as their cook and housekeeper. Perhaps she was in the kitchen and couldn’t hear her calling. She wasn’t worried about Mr. Grimes seeing her, he wouldn’t be home at this hour. He’d be out teaching Latin or doing whatever it was that vicars did during the day. Her own Papa had never been home during the day, so why would Pa—Mr. Grimes?
Liberty carefully walked down the stairs and to the kitchen where she found a large copper tub full of steaming water. This wasn’t where she would have liked to take a bath, but it seemed she had no choice in the matter since she couldn’t carry the large tub full of water upstairs.
With a sigh, she pulled her chemise over her head and stepped into the tub. Letting her feet and legs get used to the heat, she slowly sank into the warm tub. Not terribly comfortable with the idea of bathing in the kitchen, Liberty made short work of getting clean.
Right next to where she’d placed her chemise on the towel rack was a clean towel waiting. Gripping the end of it with her fingertips, she gave it a gentle tug. With ease, the towel slid off the rack and she wrapped the fluffy cloth around herself and was drying off when she heard footsteps outside the door.
Worried she wasn’t going to be able to escape without being seen, she spotted a halfway opened pantry door and quickly dashed behind it.
The kitchen door creaked open and Liberty heard heavy footfalls walk across the room. Panic caused her chest to constrict. What would happen if he opened the door to the pantry and saw her? She shivered, and not necessarily because she was cold.
Inside the pantry was darker than night, and there was absolutely no room to move about. She stood there for what seemed like forever listening as her husband splashed around in the tub like a child, humming the tunes to popular American songs. He must have figured out she was in here, she thought, leaning against the shelves. There was no other explanation for why he was now singing the chorus to Yankee Doodle.
Shaking her head in irritation, she considered going out there and giving him a piece of her mind for playing with her this way. That’s when she realized two things: one, she couldn’t go out there and give him a piece of her mind because she was hardly any better dressed than he was, because two, she’d left her chemise on the towel rack.
Agitation welled up inside her. It was her own fault he knew she was in there. If only she’d snatched her chemise on the way to the pantry he’d have been none the wiser and probably would have been long gone by now.
Silence finally filled the air and Liberty opened the door to the pantry as slowly as she could so it wouldn’t creak. Relieved to find the room empty, Liberty stepped out of the pantry and darted over to the towel rack to get her chemise. Surely he wasn’t such a cad that he’d take it with him, was he?
He was.
***
Paul went to bed the night before with a lot on his mind. Though he’d only been married for twelve hours, he’d already drawn two major conclusions. First, something was different about Liberty. For the majority of the day she hadn't been herself. Part of that could be chalked up to the fact they didn’t know each other, but that didn’t account for all of it. The woman he’d met last year was fiery and somewhat quick tempered. The woman he spent most of the day with was as docile as a newborn kitten. Something was definitely wrong. It seemed her spirit was broken, and he wasn’t sure why, but for some reason that didn’t set well with him.
The second thing, which actually was closely linked to the first, was that he could tell it was possible for them to create an enjoyable life together—but only if they both tried hard.
The few times they’d spoken, Paul had actually enjoyed the conversation. He’d wanted to talk more while they were in the carriage and found himself rather disappointed when she took his suggestion and started to read her book. As much as he hated to admit it, he would have even enjoyed it if she had read the book to him. It wasn’t that he had any great interest in romance novels; he just would have liked to have heard her read.
Their conversation outside his room had reminded him a little of the old Liberty. Especially when she got angry and snapped at him. He hadn’t meant to laugh at her. He’d known what she was talking about the whole time, but every time she said something, he couldn’t help but want to hear more. As much as it pained him to even think it, he would have rather fought with her all day than sat there in silence.
Before he extinguished the last candle on his nightstand he vowed that come tomorrow he’d try to get another glimpse at the old Liberty, even if he had to purposely agitate her. He’d never done it on purpose before, it seemed his mere presence had been enough in the past. The difference was, in the past she hadn’t been trying so hard not to get her feathers ruffled.
Without any effort on his part, an opportunity presented itself first thing in the morning.
He’d gotten in the routine of taking a bath in the kitchen before breakfasting. It seemed odd at first bathing there, but Mrs. Siddons couldn’t carry the pails of water and since it was just him, he soon got over the awkwardness of it.
Paul had no idea Liberty was in there before he strolled into the kitchen, and if she had been in the open, he would have apologized and looked for another opportunity to hassle her. But since she had gone through the trouble of ditching her chemise and hiding out in the pantry, he decided to take full advantage of the situation.
At first he just thought to take a long time and act childish by splashing around loudly. When that didn’t seem to work, he upped the ante by humming tunes he knew she had to be familiar with. Though his knowledge was lacking on the subject of her homeland, he did know the melodies to a few of their songs. He hummed through two of them, not sure he’d gotten the tune right. But there was one song he knew the chorus to and most of the verses, Yankee Doodle.
Of course he knew that song because he’d grown up hearing people sing it in a taunting way against the Americans. The verses he’d heard were about them being cowards and getting devoured. Whereas she was likely to only be familiar with the ones praising George Washington and his stallion as he commanded a million. Judging it best only to spike her ire, not have a full-blown war, he stuck to just singing the chorus.
Five times he sang the chorus. Each time he sang it, he got just a bit louder. After the fifth time, he frowned and decided to get out of the tub. He’d have to do something else. Mrs. Siddons would soon be back and she’d need the kitchen to cook breakfast.
Drying off, his eyes kept straying to her chemise. He knew she’d have every right to be furious if he swiped it. That wasn
’t exactly what he wanted. He wanted her to get her dander up, not give her a reason to scalp him.
One step away from the door, he turned around and against his better judgment, he swiped her chemise and stalked out the door before he could change his mind.
***
Liberty pulled her towel around her as tightly as she could. There was nothing for it, she was going to have to make a mad dash to her room and run by Mr. Grimes wearing only her towel in the process.
She scowled. She’d never been more convinced he was a jacknapes as she was just now. Inclining her head with pride she didn’t feel, she opened the door quietly, falsely hoping if she were quiet he wouldn’t realize she’d left the kitchen.
Padding down the hallway, she couldn’t help but smile when she reached the first step without seeing or hearing him. Surely she would have encountered him already if he planned to taunt her. Just as her foot landed on the third step, she glanced to the right and saw him standing in an open doorframe across the hall. “Missing something?” he drawled, shaking her chemise in front of him.
Startled, she froze momentarily before tightening her grip on her towel. She knew she should run up the stairs like she’d originally planned, but seeing his face-splitting grin while he shook her chemise only infuriated her more. “Give it back,” she said in a low, fierce tone.
“Come and get it,” he drawled, extending it in her direction only enough to taunt her, not enough for her to actually be able to reach it.
Though anger burned inside her, she wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of seeing her beg or play a silly game in order to get her clothing back. “Keep it,” she said casually, giving him an insincere smile.
Paul’s hand lowered. “You know what? You’ve a beautiful smile, but only when it’s genuine,” he said softly, tossing her chemise on the banister before walking away.
Liberty’s body froze. Her eyes drifted back and forth from her chemise to his retreating back. Had he meant what he said, or was he only mocking her? Sticking to her original opinion that he was an awful villain, she quickly decided he was mocking her. With a sharp exhale, she grabbed her chemise and went to her room.
Chapter 9
Throughout the rest of Paul’s day he couldn’t quit thinking about the events of the morning. He’d tried so hard to provoke her, and he thought he’d finally broken through her barrier when she demanded her chemise back. But once she flashed him that false smile, he knew he was no closer than when he’d started. Agitated, he gave up the battle and went for a ride.
The ride hadn’t helped him to let it go and all during his Latin lessons and home visits, thoughts of his wife kept niggling in the back of his head.
Dismounting his horse, he decided tonight he’d just apologize for his rude behavior and any future attempts he made to break down her defenses would be more tasteful. He could only imagine what a fool he’d looked like shaking her chemise and grinning like an idiot.
Dinner that night was served in the kitchen. Since it had always been just him eating, he’d seen no reason to use the dining room. Perhaps now that he was married he ought to ask Liberty where she preferred to eat.
“Good evening, my dear,” Paul drawled when Liberty walked into the kitchen. “Care to join me?”
She nodded her acceptance of his invitation, but said nothing.
“Mrs. Siddons, why don’t you go home early? We’ll worry about the dishes,” Paul said to the housekeeper.
Mrs. Siddons bobbed a quick thank you and was out the door before Liberty could object.
“Why did you send her home?” Liberty hissed, clearly uncomfortable being completely trapped alone with him.
“Because I wanted to talk to you,” Paul said earnestly, spearing a piece of chicken.
“You could have just asked her to leave the room,” Liberty said testily.
Paul smiled at her. “If you’re worried about being alone with me, don’t. I have no intention of ravishing you.”
Color crept up Liberty’s face. “Good, because I’d put up the biggest fight you’ve ever seen,” she said sharply.
Ah, now they were getting somewhere. “Would you now?” he drawled.
She bit her lip and looked away. He could tell she had a hot retort waiting on the tip of her tongue, but for some reason she wasn’t going to cut it loose. No matter. His intention tonight was to apologize. He’d find another way to bait her tomorrow. “Liberty,” he began softly, catching sight at how she bristled when he spoke to her. “I would like to apologize for what I did this morning.”
“It’s of no account,” she said stiffly, her eyes belying her statement.
Obviously it was of some account or she wouldn’t be blinking so rapidly. “Yes, it is. I went too far when I took your—”
“Don’t say it,” she cut in between clenched teeth.
“I was going to say clothing,” Paul said honestly.
“Sorry,” she muttered, picking up a dinner roll.
“Let me guess, you thought I was going to say chemise,” Paul said, ducking so she wouldn’t hit him if she threw her roll.
But the roll didn’t fly like he expected. Instead, her hands squeezed it so tightly that within three seconds it was unrecognizable. “Mr. Grimes,” she began in a brittle, if not somewhat starch tone, “it’s highly inappropriate to speak of such things.”
“Clothing?” he asked, cocking his head. “Hmm, I may not go to London that much, but I was of the understanding clothing is what a lot of the young ladies talk to gentlemen about.” Paul heard a noise of vexation that would almost pass as a grunt emerge from somewhere within Liberty’s throat. She was itching to yell at him, he could tell.
“Some do,” she said flatly, still clenching her used-to-be dinner roll.
“So then what’s the problem?” he asked, his lips twitching at the sight of her reddening face.
She glared at him.
“Oh, is it because the young ladies talk about gowns, bonnets, ribbons and the like and I was speaking of undergarments?” he asked innocently, taking delight in the way she bristled again. She wouldn’t be able to hold her resolve much longer if he kept this up. At some point those walls she’d erected were going to come down, and not only was he counting on it, he was going to enjoy watching it.
“Mr. Grimes,” she nearly bellowed. “It’s bad enough you had your filthy mitts on it; please refrain from reminding me of the tragedy my chemise suffered this morning.”
Paul grinned at her. “I do believe Joshua has just marched around the city seven times,” he mused aloud.
“What is that supposed to mean?” she demanded, her eyes shooting daggers at him.
“Nothing, my dear; nothing at all,” he murmured, picking up his dinner roll and biting off half of it.
Shaking her head, Liberty ignored him and focused on her dinner.
“Liberty dearest,” Paul said sweetly, causing her angry eyes to snap to his. “Perhaps since you’ve ruined your roll,” he gestured to the mangled piece of bread in her hand, “you should use your fork to stab the beans, instead of just chasing them around the plate like that.” He watched her fingers tighten their hold on her fork until her knuckles were completely white. “You can pretend the beans are my head if you’d like,” he suggested with a lopsided smile.
For the first time in what seemed like ages, he watched a true smile take hold of her lips. The image caused a tendril of heat and desire to coil in his stomach.
“Thank you for the suggestion. I will do just that,” she said sweetly, changing the position of the fork in her hand so that she was holding it with a fist and the tines were pointed down toward the plate. Then, with more force than necessary, she started stabbing at the beans. Loud screeching and scraping noises where her fork was hitting the plate along with the beans echoed throughout the room.
“See, sweetheart, it’s much easier to eat that way,” Paul told her while trying to keep a straight face. She was absolutely obliterating some of those beans wi
th how much force she was using. She must truly hate him, he thought somberly, his smile rapidly fading.
“Stop that,” she said tightly, stabbing at her plate.
“Stop what?” he asked with sincere innocence. What was he doing now that was irritating her?
“Stop calling me that,” she said through clenched teeth.
“What? Sweetheart. I only called you that once, it’s not as if I’ve made a habit of it. Yet.”
“Well, stop. I don’t like it.”
“All right. You don’t like sweetheart. How about when I called you ‘my dear’ or ‘dearest’?” he asked, just to tease her.
She pursed her lips. “Mr. Grimes, I feel you are deliberately trying to anger me. Let’s get one thing straight. We only got married because of my stupidity and my father’s anger. This is not a love match. Therefore, I would prefer if you did not call me any of those terms. Clear?”
“Clear,” he agreed. He’d called her those things only to help fuel the fire of her angst. Until now, he’d doubted they were working. Apparently they were. Good.
“Thank you,” she said semi-cordially.
“You’re welcome, Liberty,” Paul said softy.
She slammed her fork down on the table. “Do not, and I repeat do not, call me that.”
“What by your name?” Paul asked, bewildered.
Her eyes flashed fire. “You may call me Mrs. Grimes.”
One of the corners of his mouth tipped up. She would rather he call her by the name he’d given her than her own name. That was rather amusing if he did say so himself. “Why would I do that?”
“Why wouldn’t you?” she countered.
Of course the majority of married couples addressed each other formally, he knew that. But just because he knew it didn’t mean he agreed with it. “Because you’re my wife,” he returned simply.
Liberty rolled her eyes heavenward for a moment before meeting his again. “Just because I’m your wife does not give you the right to take such liberties,” she blustered, then exhaled sharply when she realized her own blunder. “Mr. Grimes, take that smile off your face before I wipe it off for you.”