by Cari Hislop
“Only because he’s a bore…”
“I’d bore you as soon as you could put my heart in your purse; that’s probably why Oldham chews his nails. I learned years ago to keep my heart well out of harm’s way.”
“You once loved Rosamund Philips; you could fall in love with me.”
“I only thought I loved her.”
“Everyone knows she has her heart set on making her precious Grace the Countess of Carmarthen. You’re going to have a son by that fat ugly lump aren’t you? You married her for revenge. You still love Rosamund…” His lover started to sob. “…she’s been in your thoughts while you’ve made love to me.” With her face pressed into his waistcoat she couldn’t see his expression of exasperation.
“How could I think of another woman when my arms are filled with such beauty?” Penryth sucked on his pipe as he relived the unpleasant moment his nephew has revealed he was in love with Grace Philips; something bad was bound to come of it. The boy’s heart would be broken and Penryth would have to piece it back together. He put an arm around the naked woman and removed his pipe to kiss her upturned lips. “Rosamund could never compete with your superior charms…”
His wet eyed lover tugged on his ill-tied cravat. “Come back to bed and prove it.”
“I must go check on my wife.”
“Stay!”
“If I return to your bed I’ll only fall asleep. I’ll visit you in a few days. If I don’t find you occupied I’ll happily worship your charms.” He tried to kiss her forehead, but she pulled away and tugged hard on his cravat making him cough.
“If you walk out that door you won’t touch me again.”
“You told me to go, I’m going.”
Tears flooded out of pretty blue eyes that looked deceptively innocent. “If you leave it’s over.”
“I’ll call in a few days.” He tucked his pipe back into the corner of his lips and patted her wet cheek. “Don’t upset yourself Melisande; it’ll make your eyes red. Men will think you miss your husband.”
“I hate you!” She pulled free of his arms and raced to pick something up to throw at him, but he was gone before it smashed on the floor. “I hate you!” The words followed him to the front door. He could only hope his timid wife would lose her temper by sulking in silence.
Heading home, he was oblivious to the noise of the city moving past. His thoughts quickly drifted away from his naked mistress and settled firmly on his wife. Even after having his needs satiated by a beautiful woman, the thought of exploring his wife’s ample curves infused him with pleasurable heat. His desire was irrational; the poor woman was bruised and battered, but he’d felt the heat since that first hellish visit with William. Bored with Rosamund’s gossip he’d glanced at Lily knitting in the corner of the drawing room and found her staring at him. She’d flushed a delicious pink and returned his stare with a look that implied his kisses would be welcome. Blowing smoke rings into the crisp air Penryth hummed an ancient song about star-crossed lovers as he walked faster to keep his footfalls in time with the song.
If he never saw Melisande again it wouldn’t bother him. It was odd how some people were pleasant company, but as soon as they were out of sight they were forgotten. Why? He ignored the question and eagerly returned to the subject of his wife. He couldn’t imagine making love to Lily and then walking away thinking of another woman. No, when he made love to Lily… The thought of consummating his impulsive marriage made his heart race as fire coursed through his veins. Of course she found him attractive, most women did, but that didn’t explain the strange warm pleasant feeling in his chest that seemed to flare up when she came to mind or to hand. He’d have to ensure she healed as quickly as possible. At least his bride would never demand to be worshiped and then wish him dead so she could marry a more eminent title; she’d never demand anything. His feet impulsively changed direction towards Bond Street as he hummed a waltz. The woman needed cheering. He’d get her something stunning; something he’d always said he’d never buy a woman.
Chapter 6
Her eyes still closed, Lily inhaled warm air filled with the pleasant scent of burning coal. Opening her eyes she blinked in confusion. She was in a strange masculine room. The only decorations she could see on the pale pea green walls lit by the fire were two paintings of remote hilly countryside. Lying still she was mentally listing her aches and pains wondering if someone was going to offer her another dose of laudanum when she heard a faint knocking. Her heart leapt in shock as Mr Bowen’s voice called out, “Yes?” Turning her head to view a wider aspect of her new room she found she was alone. Sighing in disappointment she strained to hear her husband’s voice drift through the thin brick wall separating their shared chimney flue. “…William, did you…your…?” He had to be sitting near the fire. Was he wearing that red dressing gown? Her curiosity helped her disentangle herself from her blanket and roll out of bed so she could hobble to the fire. She felt like the brazen hussy her sister regularly accused her of being as she ignored the pain of bending over to put her ear near the flames.
“What the devil have you done?” That was clearly William Bowen. He didn’t sound very happy.
“You’ve heard of my recent nuptials. Good…”
“You really married her? Why? She’s fat and ugly. You’ve said a thousand times you’d rather hang than wed…”
“I changed my mind.” Lily waited to hear him refute that he thought her ugly, but the statement went unchallenged causing her heart to drop pumping tears to her red eyes.
“But Grace longs to be a countess; she talks about it all the time. What am I supposed to tell her? Sorry Goosey you’ll have to be plain Mrs Bowen forever now that your Aunt Lily has ruined your dream?”
“Grace may still become a Countess if fate decrees it. None of us live forever.”
“Why are you doing this? Why would you marry a penniless old maid who’d break your leg if she tried to sit on your knee?”
“I have my reasons…”
“Uncle Penryth, you have to annul this abomination and take her home at once. The whole Philips household is in uproar. Grace was so upset that her Aunt Lily had abandoned them she couldn’t leave her room to see me. The servants were running around screaming obscenities. The younger children were sobbing. Mrs Philips was in bed with a migraine. Mr Philips says he won’t have a moment’s peace until you bring Lily home. The house is in chaos. They need her!”
“Finders keepers, losers’ weepers…” Lily wiped away her tears and sighed in relief. The elder Mr Bowen didn’t sound inclined to send her anywhere.
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“It means I’m keeping my wife and I don’t care what happens in the Philips’ household. When you see my wife’s bruises you won’t question my actions.”
“Did she tell you Mr Philips beat her black and blue? It so happens she lost her balance and fell down the stairs. She’s always tripping and falling. She’s tricked you into feeling pity and now you’ve been saddled with a useless woman who brings you nothing, but a higher food bill.”
“She didn’t fall down the stairs William.”
“Is that what she told you?”
“She told me nothing and that nothing was quite revealing.”
“And you assumed she’d been beaten so you rode to her rescue like an avenging knight and chained yourself to a worthless woman?”
“My wife is neither worthless nor a yarn-spinner.” The words had a chill that made Lily shiver. She wouldn’t want him to speak to her in that cold voice. “I don’t care what you think. You’ll be polite to your new Aunt Lily and make her feel welcome. Starting right now; each unkind word spoken or implied in this house or in her hearing will cost you a month’s allowance. I’d rather hang myself then send her back to that hell. If you don’t like my new companion you may marry Grace over an anvil and live with her parents.”
“But Uncle Penryth, what am I to tell Grace? She wants to be a countess.”
“Unless
she was planning my early demise, there was never any certainty that she’d outlive me to bear the honour. You’ll simply have to tell her that it’s become more unlikely.”
“But she won’t be happy.”
“Happiness isn’t having a title. If she loves you…”
“She does love me!”
“As she loves you, she’ll swallow her disappointment and find other reasons to be happy. You’ve a decent inheritance, you’re young, handsome and you have a generally pleasant disposition when you aren’t being a selfish toad; what more could a woman want?”
“A title…what if she jilts me? I couldn’t bear it.”
“She’d be a fool to let you go.”
“But I love her…I want to make her happy.”
“You can’t make anyone happy; you can merely be happy and hope your good spirits will influence others.”
“I feel like I’m in the middle of the ocean with dwindling rations. It’ll be two years before I sight land.”
“I’ll give you five hundred pounds. That should buy something to light up her eyes…” Lily’s eyes went wide. She knew Mr Bowen wasn’t poor, but it seemed almost unthinkable that anyone could casually offer to waste five hundred pounds on Grace. Lily opened her mouth to say Grace wouldn’t be happy if she owned the world, but silently closed her bruised lips. The young man wouldn’t believe anything she said. Wishing she’d stayed in bed with her fingers in her ears, Lily hobbled back to bed feeling even more miserable.
Fifteen minutes later a knock on her door made her start jarring her aches and pains. “Mrs Bowen?” Hearing her husband’s voice made her start again. Jerking her blanket over her head she closed her eyes and prayed she’d die of shame; he wouldn’t be saddled with an unwanted wife and she wouldn’t be tormented with silly thoughts of sharing his kisses. The door opened and then closed. The floorboards merely moaned as he approached the bed. When she’d walked to the fire they’d creaked as if about to crack. The unpleasant image of sitting on her husband’s knee and breaking his leg made her feel worse. “It’s gone eleven. Would you like some supper?”
“I’m not hungry.” The mattress moved. Was he sitting on the bed in his red dressing gown?” The longing to look at him was nullified by the knowledge he found her ugly.
“Why are you covering your head? Do you think I’d visit you unclothed?” Lily could only be grateful the blanket hid her acute embarrassment. “Have I said something to upset you?” Lily’s throat was too tight to lie. “You’re not crying again are you?” Lily’s choking sobs seemed to silence him for several minutes. “Do you need some more laudanum?”
“Yes.” She’d keep taking laudanum; she’d sleep forever then she wouldn’t have to face him.
“You can’t have it on an empty stomach. It might give you nightmares. You’ll have to eat first. I’ll get your tray while you remove your shroud.” The benign dictator had spoken. She was being stupid again. What did it matter if the man thought her ugly? He’d only married her out of pity. After he left the room she sat up too despondent to get out of bed and find her shawl.
Ten minutes later her eyes slid towards the closing door. He was balancing a silver tray on his hip. Her heart begged her not to die, if only to be able to see him every night in his half unbuttoned red dressing gown. The fabric appeared alive as it flowed around his calf length nightshirt and bare legs. Blushing she looked down at her lap where a few minutes later masculine hands protruding from red silk sleeves set down the tray. Instead of leaving he sat down on the bed and stared at her. “Thank you.”
“It was nothing…did you sleep well?”
“Yes.”
“Good. Slaying dragons and rescuing maidens in dreams is beyond even my abilities.” His teasing tone cast a spell on her eyes, dragging them up to his face lit by the candle on her tray. She could easily imagine him slaying dragons.
“Did you have a good day?” It was an inane question. What was the man supposed to say? I married a fat ugly penniless stranger; yes I had a very good day.
“It wasn’t dull. I married a woman who’ll never send me on a quest to India in the hope that I’ll die of fever so she can marry a lover. I had a pleasant luncheon with my bride, battled a dragon and then paid a visit to my mistress who on finding I’d become a husband tried to brain me with ceramics.” Hearing him mention his mistress caused Lily to inhale as she swallowed filling her lungs with chicken soup. She coughed over her tears as a helpful hand tapped her on the back until she was breathing air again. The hand remained on her back. “Good. You’re still on the land of the living.” The hand fondled her thick braid of hair and then retreated.
Lily wanted to sink down into the mattress and disappear, but she had to know. “Do you love her?”
“Her?”
“Your mistress.”
“Do I love Lady Gillingham? No.”
“Is she beautiful?”
“On the surface…you’re not crying again are you?”
“No.” It was an obvious lie as Lily wiped away fresh tears.
“Good. I insist you eat and breathe separately unless you want people to think I killed you.” Lily found it difficult to swallow as images of Mr Bowen holding a beautiful naked woman in his arms were papered on the inside of her brain. “Is something wrong? You look upset.”
“It’s nothing…”
“Ah, that evil nothing again; does it bother you I have a mistress?”
She stared at her tray wanting to scream, ‘Yes it does!’ “It’s none of my concern.”
“When the lady insults you by hinting she’s intimately acquainted with your husband it will be your concern. Will you take a lover if my company proves…unstimulating?”
“Of course not…that would be wicked.”
“Do you think me wicked for bedding another man’s wife?”
“Yes.” Her husband smiled in amusement as his eyes trailed over her chest. She shivered as two strange fires collided in her spine.
“Shall you attempt to reform my evil ways Mrs Bowen?”
“No.”
His eyes widened in exaggerated disbelief. “But you’re my wife…” The words had a teasing tone that felt like a taunt. “…wives always try to reform their husbands. I understand it’s inevitable as sunrise.”
“I rather think it’s the other way round.” Lily blushed at her temerity as she glanced up to see if he was angry. An amused smile egged her to continue. “Men are always trying to change the women in their lives with unpleasant consequences. I couldn’t change you any more than I could change Rosamund. And what good would it do if I could? Just because I don’t think you should be…you know. Who am I to tell you how to live your life?”
“True, I’d have to assent to the reformation and why would I do that?”
Lily glanced over her spoon heaped with bread pudding. The teasing tone was suddenly serious as if he genuinely desired an answer. “I’ve no idea.”
He abruptly reached out and lightly caressed one of the bruises on her face. “Your sister did this to you, didn’t she?”
Her eyes filled with tears blurring her pudding and his sudden look of irritation. “Grace had one of her rages. I had to stay with her so she wouldn’t harm herself or leave her room. It’s part…was part of my duties. Afterwards, Rosamund blamed me for…for letting Grace fall asleep on the floor. She lost her temper.” Her spoonful of bread pudding visibly shook as she sniffed back more tears. “If anything went wrong it was always my fault.”
“They both hurt you?”
“Yes.”