Lisbon: Richard and Rose, Book 8

by Lynne Connolly

  Paul smiled fondly at his wife. “It is considered one of the most beautiful houses in the country. My grandfather built it. It is about twenty-five miles outside the city, maybe a little less. We can travel there easily in a day.”

  Richard gave him a friendly smile. “We would be honoured. Rose has missed you, Lizzie, and it would give you time to catch up.” He exchanged a telling glance with Paul. “No doubt you’ll want to discuss any number of matters with each other.”

  Lizzie’s infectious giggle set me off, and I only stopped when I realised we were probably behaving more like schoolchildren than the grown women we were meant to be. I hadn’t felt that way in a long time. Something lifted away from me right then. Lightness of spirit returned. I didn’t even know I’d lost it until I got it back.

  The coach drew up outside the town house, and I sat back, gazing at the façade before I let Richard hand me down. By now the ground felt steady under my feet, but I took a moment to ensure it. If I fell now, or even stumbled, Richard might insist that I go to bed and rest. I’d seen enough of my bed to last me a long time, except at its proper hour.

  I breathed deeply, taking in the air of this place. “I like it here.” The air tasted slightly of brine. Although I’d lived inland at Devonshire, we weren’t far from the sea, and the land ensured the tang of salt wafted over our estate from time to time. Only when I savoured it did I realise how much I missed it.

  “You will recover well here.” Richard placed his hand gently under my elbow, supporting me. “It was a good decision.”

  “Whose decision was it?” I couldn’t remember, but the thought of seeing Lizzie again had buoyed me in the days when I was sad in spirit.

  “I suggested it and you accepted it with alacrity,” he reminded me. I had to take his word because I could remember little of that time.

  A wide and airy hall decorated in light colours greeted us inside the relatively modern house. I detected the odour of fresh paint in the air, very faint, but my sense of smell sometimes seemed more acute than it had ever been before. A butler, housekeeper and two footmen awaited our presence, and to my surprise, I recognised our blue-and-silver livery. “Who arranged the costumes?”

  Richard laughed. “Paul asked, and I supplied the details. I’m afraid I omitted to tell you.”

  He’d done it to make me smile—a recollection of our home and something that reminded me of how very thoughtful he was. I found it so touching that if I hadn’t smiled, I’d have wept. As it was, tears filled my eyes, but I blinked them away, not wanting to enter our new abode with any kind of sadness.

  We inspected the house, followed by our little entourage. I was relieved to discover that the butler spoke serviceable English. The housekeeper too, but the other servants only had a few words. No matter. My maid would deal with them for the most part, although I wondered if we would need an interpreter. No, I would enjoy learning the words I needed. Something new stimulated the intellect, and after months of total ease, my mind was begging for something to do. The prevailing thought seemed to be that during times of physical distress, the mind needed resting too. Not something I agreed with, and in the endless parade of novels and sermons my attendants allowed me, I managed to conceal a few more demanding tomes.

  Now I could read what I pleased and temper my usual fare with the accounts and histories that I felt heightened my knowledge. I had always read a mite indiscriminately, and I would prefer to continue in the same way. I was delighted to discover a well-furnished book room, with books and bound magazines, all in English, rather than carefully tooled and bound volumes of tedious sermons and the like. Some maps of the country made me vow to study them further.

  Of course, Lisbon was the destination of many ailing British people. It had a reputation for mild winters. Our good friend Henry Fielding had died here last winter, a subject Richard had assiduously avoided mentioning recently. But people still travelled here to convalesce, so perhaps this house was previously hired by a British person, which would explain the library.

  We had a suite of rooms. Two bedrooms, as usual, but Lizzie must have seen my face fall because she asked me, “Have we forgotten anything?”

  I pasted on my brightest smile. “No, nothing. The bedrooms are beautiful. Facing the garden, and in colours I enjoy.” This I knew was where the scent of fresh paint had originated because the room was decorated in an ivory and blue that would become me. “Were they orange before?”

  Lizzie laughed. “Not far off. A strange shade of peach. But it was a small matter to change them.”

  “How thoughtful, thank you.”

  But Lizzie would not be put off by my effusive thanks. As soon as we’d finished our tour of the house and settled the children in the nursery, she bore me downstairs, back to the small sitting room attached to the bedroom suite, and ordered tea. The maid brought it to us, and I was charmed when she gave me a sweet “My lady,” as she placed the tray on the low table.

  “Paul will take your husband out of earshot,” my sister assured me. “I’ve been watching him. He is so solicitous I don’t know how you stand it.”

  I spun around to face her, my skirts whirling. “Exactly!” As usual, she had hit the matter dead centre. “He cares for me, Lizzie. Every minute of every day. Well, except at night.” I hadn’t meant to add that last comment. I knew how perspicacious Lizzie could be.

  “Ah!” She paused, frowning, probably wondering how to broach the subject. But I knew what she must be wanting to ask.

  Since our time here was limited, I made it easier for her. “We no longer share the same bed.” I got up and walked to the window, staring out blindly at the street below. “He won’t touch me intimately.” The scene in the yacht came back to me in vivid detail. The memory was enough to heat my blood, though I fought to get the vision out of my mind of Richard kissing my throat. I was starved for such memories.

  Lizzie broke the silence with an exclamation. “But I’ve seen you—” She bit off her words but not before I knew what she was about to say. She had unwittingly witnessed the extent of our intimacy, both before and after our marriage. She knew how close we’d been, how we slept naked together every night, made love with the abandon of illicit lovers, though she hadn’t seen that part.

  She wouldn’t see it now, no matter when she chose to interrupt us. “It’s only been four months. Three since the doctors declared you out of immediate danger.”

  “I know.” I turned around again, my agitation making me as restless as I used to be. Silk swirled against my legs, and almost without conscious volition I straightened the skirts over my panniers with a deft twitch. “I’ve been patient, Lizzie. I’ve waited. I didn’t expect to resume—” It was my turn to break off, more in respect for her feelings than for mine.

  I could not share this information with anyone else in the world, not even Martha, my sister-in-law. I couldn’t do it out of respect for Richard, but I needed to talk to someone so badly, and I knew Lizzie wouldn’t tell anyone else, even her husband, unless I told her she could. “Not right away, anyway. But barely a kiss. As if he can’t bear to touch me. His every touch is solicitous, and he doesn’t linger. It makes me feel like a leper. I know he doesn’t mean that, but every time it chips away at what we had, and what I want back. He won’t discuss the matter with me, either. I’ve tried several times in the last month to talk it over with him. He won’t. I’m at my wit’s end, Lizzie.”

  She sat, her hands folded neatly in her lap, regarding me in the way I knew meant she saw right through to every nuance of what I was telling her. “What do you want, Rose? What do you really want?”

  “I want him back in my bed. I want him to hold me like he used to, not as if I’m made of porcelain.” The rest would flow from that. If we never made love again, I could bear it, if he gave me back some of what we had lost recently. “I’m afraid that if we don’t get it back soon, it will become habit, and then it will never return.”

  Distress filled her heavenly blue eyes, but
she considered, a small frown creasing her brow. “Yes, I see. You need to force him to take that first step, or his careful reserve will remain.”

  “You remember how it was when we met?” I swallowed, choking back the tears. “He took that step. One step, in the coach house at Hareton Abbey. That’s all I need, just that, and a willingness to remain. That day he forced through the barrier he’d erected around himself. For me, Lizzie, he did it for me. He told me it was the first time in so many years that he didn’t know if it could be done, but he saw in me his last chance to achieve personal happiness. He’s throwing that away now. I don’t even know precisely why he is keeping his distance, if he wants to preserve me, or if he wants to ensure I’m completely well. I need to know, and I need him to tell me.”

  “I can understand him caring for you enough to stay away, enough to ensure you’re perfectly well before he shares a bed with you again.” A wry smile twisted her mouth. “I can probably understand it better than you.” She gave a short laugh. “You’re very hot-blooded, my dear.”

  Heat rushed to my face, suffused my cheeks, but I couldn’t hide from my sister. It would be a waste of time to try. “Yes I am. It’s an important part of our marriage. It’s part of what we are together. But it’s more than that. We used to talk in bed, about anything, everything. You know, from politics to domestic details. I don’t get that anymore, either.”

  I shook my head in despair. “He is afraid of losing me, I know that’s part of it. His mother instilled in him a terror of childbirth. She had a hard time giving birth to Richard and Gervase, and she never allowed them to forget it. She went on to give birth again, but I don’t think she intended to have another child. I don’t think she allowed her husband back into her bed after Georgiana was born. It accounts for her coldness, the way she appears to be solely reason and behaviour, with no inner life.” I paused, and the silence lay heavy on us both. “Richard could get like that. If I let him, if I don’t do something to change his behaviour. But if I try to do too much, too soon, I’ll drive him away.”

  She stared at me, frowning. Then the frown disappeared. “I have an idea. You’re staying here tonight. If you can manage two nights, then I’m sure I can arrange something for the palacio too. We will pretend that I know nothing of this, that I’ve noticed nothing, if you please.”

  So later, we informed our husbands that we needed to stay another night. Lizzie insisted on taking me shopping, to ensure I had the latest clothes and to acquaint me with the most fashionable areas of Lisbon. When her husband laughingly protested that we had only spent a matter of a month or so at sea, she responded, “Fashion can change completely in a month, meu amor, surely I’ve taught you that.”

  He held up his hands in a gesture of surrender. “I am content. I’ll take Richard to the coffeehouses and introduce him to some people who, they inform me, are aching to meet him.”

  “Not all of them respectable, I hope,” Richard added, smiling.

  It was indicative of our new relationship that for a bare moment I recalled the ladies of the demimonde who never failed to cast their lures out to Richard. At one time he would have accepted, but recently, more secure in my relationship with him, I had stopped worrying.

  Now that had come back. After all, as a red-blooded male, his baser urges wouldn’t disappear overnight because his wife wasn’t available. My husband wasn’t about to turn into a monk.

  This had to stop, and quickly, before we became like so many other couples. I was learning that a successful marriage meant hard work. But it was so very worth it.

  Chapter Five

  The two nights remaining before we traveled to the palacio would be the last time I’d have at drawing him back without subterfuge. The door opened almost silently, and I saw his reflection cross the mirror before he walked forwards to where I sat. He’d taken off his formal wig and donned a light banyan instead of his coat. I could see that he’d shed his stock and neckcloth as well. A hint of bare flesh showed at his throat, and I yearned to taste it. I welcomed the informality, but I couldn’t take it as a sign that he’d unbent. Not yet.

  Nichols was unfastening my hair, taking the pins out and dropping them in the pretty china dish set on the dressing table. Nichols finished her task and reached for the brush. Her hand hovered over the handle for a telling moment. But no quiet command came, no, “You may go, I’ll take over.” Just silence.

  She picked up the brush and began to disentangle my curls. Before the advent of Nichols, I had sometimes ended the day leaving my hair in its tangles, just gathering it back in a straggling bunch so I could sleep. No more. Nichols could turn my hair into a shining sheet of chestnut waves. So could Richard. I loved it when he brushed my hair, but he hadn’t done so for a while. Perhaps because more often than not he would begin by using the brush but would end using his hands. And not only on my hair.

  We tended to conclude the business in bed, or somewhere near it, too impatient to take the few steps we needed to get there. Richard had introduced me to making love on chairs, standing up and other delicious variations. Heat blossomed between my thighs at the remembrance, and I lifted my gaze to meet his, reflected in the mirror. He blinked, his eyes opened wider and darkened as the pupils spread. He’d recognised my arousal, and whether he liked it or not, it lay between us now as an unspoken challenge.

  I hadn’t meant to approach him before we arrived at the palacio, but my instinctive reaction had brought the issues between us into startling focus. I couldn’t ignore it. Neither could he. But I would do my best not to drive him away, to push him into erecting a barrier I had no chance of breaching.

  I had seen him do that in the past. Against people who had proved themselves his enemies, but worse, some who had treated me badly. His response had devastated them, and they had found themselves on the outskirts of him and the circle of his influence, which was much larger than some imagined.

  I had revelled in his protective attitude in the early days of our marriage. I had needed it then—I knew very few people and stood in awe of persons I was only aware of by reputation. Richard ensured that I entered the centre of society and did it with little disturbance, as if I were entering a place reserved for my use. I was confident enough to find my own way in society, and while I appreciated the shield he and his family provided, I wanted more freedom to make my own choices and stand by them, even if they went wrong.

  Until that moment I hadn’t realised how deep our problem lay. But we could get past it. Energy returned to me with that decision. Vigour surged through my body, making me feel stronger than I had in months.

  I tore my gaze away from his and gave my attention to Nichols. “Leave us, please. I’ll do that.” I took the brush from her unresisting fingers and caught a flash of approval in her gaze before she left the room. Nichols attended me as a good lady’s maid should, in silence when I wished it, but if I asked her, she would give her opinion on more matters than just the way I should wear the latest gown. She had lived an eventful life, one I found myself drawing from indirectly from time to time. Her advice was worth listening to.

  Now she left me to my own devices.

  “You wish me to act as your lady’s maid again?”

  I rose from my seat and turned to face him before I responded. “There’s no need.” Nichols had already helped me off with my gown and into a light robe. Now I shrugged that off, and I kept his gaze while I unhooked my stays—at the front.

  To my relief, a slow smile curled his lips. “Witch. Did you wear the same pair the other day?”

  I nodded and smiled back. “Sorry.” Perhaps I could charm him into it, but not by applying any false airs and graces, just by being myself and showing him what I required of him. “I wanted you to touch me.”

  “I touch you every day.”

  “But not like you used to.”

  He closed his eyes for a moment. “No.” He opened them again. “I can’t. I daren’t.” I saw something I’d never seen in them before my illness. Fear.
And I hated it.

  “Daren’t?” I needed him to tell me. I needed to hear the words.

  “I didn’t leave your side when you were ill.” He glanced away, then back at me. I finished unhooking my stays, not attempting flirtatiousness. This discussion was far too important for any games. We needed honesty. Although perhaps later, we might play. I still hoped, even though our discussion had turned grave. But I had to listen to him. It was what I had asked for, after all, and he had never told me before but left me to guess at the level of his pain.

  “I watched you, prayed for you, wept over you. I promised that I’d never allow you to fall pregnant, that I’d never, ever put you in that position again. I can’t bear the thought of you…leaving me.” Even now he couldn’t say the word. He didn’t want me to die. Neither did I, come to that.

  “You can’t keep me wrapped up forever, Richard. There are any number of ways I could die. What if I were to slip and fall? What if I’d fallen overboard and drowned?”

  “I know that.” He turned away and tunnelled his fingers over his scalp. His short hair stuck up in unruly spikes, so unlike the Lord Strang the world knew. Only I saw him this way. “If you had, I’d have to bear it. I’d have no choice.”

  He faced me once more, anguish etching his eyes into blue flames. His expression seared into me, and I wanted to hold him, love him, make that look go away. But I did nothing, just listened to him. “But this I can do something about. This I can affect. If I can care for you without the temptation becoming too much, I can have most of you.”

  “Is that what you reasoned while you sat with me when I was ill?”

  “It’s what I thought of.” And more, I’d wager.

  “Then you’re trying to preserve me rather than keep me. You don’t want what we have, you’re trying to make it into something else. I can be a wife to you, appear at balls and routs, go to the opera and court, and I can be a mother to your children. But I can’t be your lover? I can’t hold you at night? I can never see your body again?” I fought my emotions down. If I shouted, if I grew too upset, he’d leave me alone, I knew it. I couldn’t let him do that now, erect another impenetrable wall for me to break through. One day the wall would prove too well built and he’d be lost to me. And to his children.