Her father looked… Well? Happy? No longer jaundiced and sweaty? Michael simply looked smug, but she thought that must be his usual expression. Richard swept her into his arms, carrying her swiftly to the bathing chamber. She could sort everything out once she relieved her bladder and got rid of her headache.
And this horrible nightgown! "And bring me something else to wear. One of those chemises will be fine, or even one of my old work dresses. Anything but this abomination of lace."
He looked crestfallen for a moment, his eyes radiating hurt. "I thought you would like it. I had it delivered from London."
She yanked the offensive garment above her hips and sat down, sighing in relief. He spun around, but she didn't care if he watched or not. She'd lost any modesty long ago, but she had clearly hurt his feelings.
"I appreciate that you tried to find me something I might like, but I sleep better in things like those chemises. I always wore such things to bed before we married."
"I got rid of them all. I didn't want anything to remind you of—"
"Angeline. You can say her name."
"No! And I don't want you to say it, either." He spun around, his face set into hard lines, reminding her of the last time he'd caned her. "Roland tells me that they can hear their names."
"Oh. I wasn't aware, but thank you for finding out for us." She cleaned herself and allowed the gown to drop as she stood, giving a short prayer that Angeline ignored her name being spoken. She wobbled to the basin and washed her hands before filling a crystal tumbler with water and drinking it down. "Could I have something to eat, please? I'll get dressed and we can—"
He swept her into his arms once more and put her down in one of the dressing chairs. "You can have whatever you like, but you will have it in bed. We will talk once you've eaten. I'll bring you something else to wear, but I want you to be still."
She nodded and he hurried from the room, leaving the door ajar. He returned in only a few short minutes and handed her a soft poet's shirt with an open neck. It would suit wonderfully until she could get more comfortable nightclothes. That is unless Richard insisted she sleep nude again. She had quite liked that. Perhaps she would do that anyway once their house guests took their leave.
She looked down at herself and realized the monstrosity she wore must button in the back. Of all the… "Richard, will you help with the buttons?"
He was there in a flash, but she caught his frown in the mirror as he struggled to unfasten the tiny pearl buttons running the length of her back. "Bloody hell, this thing is atrocious," he muttered.
She laughed, though it made her head pound. "There are scissors in the drawer. Just cut the damned thing off me."
"How do the maids do it?"
"Small fingers and a great deal of patience." She huffed out a laugh. "I'm sorry you went to the trouble and expense for me, but I won't wear it again whether it's left whole or not."
Sighing, he fetched the scissors and got to work. The cool blades touched her neck as he snipped through the lace and down far enough to pull it over her head. He also cut the tight leg ‘o mutton sleeves, unwilling to deal with those buttons, either.
She sighed in relief as she tugged it off and tossed it to the floor. "Perhaps we can save the fabric. It would be lovely if we cut it up for table linen."
"No," he said, fingering the fabric with distaste. "It's too coarse. I can't believe I bought this damned thing. It looked pretty in the catalog, I suppose." He helped her pull the shirt over her head and carried her back to bed.
He laid her down as a soft knock announced Sarah with a large tray of covered dishes. Her eyes filled with tears as she saw Elizabeth tucked into bed.
She set the tray down and rushed to the bed, dropping to her knees as she clutched Elizabeth's hand. "My lady, I am so—"
Elizabeth held up a hand and turned to Richard. "Were all the servants affected by A— I mean, her?"
"Everyone except Roland. I think she ignored him because he's Roma. He said he was too old to be of interest to her."
"More likely the man is too damned stubborn."
"You swear like a pirate, my lady."
"I shall endeavor to stop the bloody swearing."
He chuckled and kissed the back of her hand.
She turned to Sarah. "Don't cry. It isn't your fault."
"Do you mean it, my lady?" Her wet eyes went wide with hope, and she clutched harder at Elizabeth's hand. "I said such horrible things to you!"
"I do, but I'm also not going to tolerate any insubordination. You can pass the message along that if anyone would like to leave, I will provide a reference and wages, but I will kick them out myself if they are disrespectful to me or to Lord Shepton."
"Yes, I understand, my lady. I'll tell everyone." Sarah got to her feet and bobbed a quick curtsy before leaving them alone.
Richard laughed, the sound tickling her insides and making her want to join in that gleeful sound. "I believe you will be a countess to be reckoned with, my lady. Shall I bring your breakfast?"
She looked around at the pristine white sheets. "I think I'd rather sit at the table, my lord. We don't need crumbs in our bed."
He coughed uncomfortably. "I've— I mean to say that I…"
"Spit it out, Richard."
"I've moved into another chamber."
She stared at him, trying to keep her face expressionless. She'd suspected it, but hoped… Well, it didn't signify. "Would you care to tell me why?"
He pushed his fingers through his overlong hair, pacing around as he muttered under his breath. "I didn't want to force myself upon you if you didn't want— If you didn't want me."
"I don't know if I want you."
"I see." He tugged on his collar and backed away from her. "I'll leave you in peace, then. Would you like me to send in one of the maids?"
"Sit down. I wasn't finished," she snapped. When he dropped to the bed next to her, she said, "I don't know you. We've been married for months, and I have no idea what kind of person you are. I have known you only when A—" She pressed her lips together and stared at her hands before continuing. "I don't know what person you are without undue influence, and you don't know a thing about me, either."
Taking his hand in hers, she whispered, "But I want to. I want to know if you're the person who let me run barefoot in the grass, or if you're the person who caned me until I bled. Please move your things back into the lord's chamber."
He leaned down and kissed her softly, his tongue probing at the seam of her lips. When she tried to deepen their kiss, he pulled away. "You are a most incomparable woman, Lady Shepton. I probably don't deserve you."
She grinned impishly. "You're probably right. Now, help me to the table. I'm utterly famished. How long was I unconscious?"
She refused to let him pick her up like a sack of oats, so he helped her totter to the table, making sure she was seated comfortably before he answered. "You were knocked senseless when you— When you destroyed the thing that came from me. You were blown backward into the wall and struck your head. You've been out for almost a week."
Her hand flew to her belly and she felt the blood rush away from her head. "Is my—"
"The babe is fine." He picked up her hand, rubbing the soft skin over her knuckles. "Well, we're not sure about that."
"Sure about what?" She couldn't help the panic tinging her voice. "What the hell is wrong with my baby?"
"Nothing! I promise, there's nothing wrong! It's just that—" He scrubbed at his hair and looked at her helplessly. "It's just that the physician thinks there might be—"
"Richard, would you just speak?" Panic filled her at the thought of her babes being harmed and she clutched his hand.
"He thinks you'll deliver twins. He heard two heartbeats with that stethoscope device."
Relief suffused her, making her lightheaded, and the words stalled in her throat. Taking a lungful of air, she exhaled and said, "Oh. Well, I suppose we'll manage." She plucked the cover off of one of the dishes,
inhaling the steam from Mrs. Abernathy's delicious eggs with cheese and asparagus. She pulled it toward her and simply ate from the serving dish, eschewing all manners.
"This is delicious. You should see if she made something for you."
"That's all you have to say?"
"No, you may not have any of my eggs."
He pushed both hands through his untidy hair and groaned. "About the possibility of twins, Elizabeth. Aren't you the slightest bit nervous? I confess, I'm terrified at the prospect."
She sat back in her chair, cradling the bowl of eggs to her chest as she continued to eat. Between mouthfuls, she said. "I had a thing inside me like you did, though mine was quite a bit smaller."
"Is it still there?" He leaped to his feet and reached for her, but she waved him away.
She finished the eggs and reached for the bowl of porridge. "No, I've already gotten rid of it. Would you like to know when?"
"You are a horrible storyteller."
She chuckled and took a bite of her porridge. She loved how Mrs. Abernathy swirled her blackberry preserves through the mixture. It was delicious. "No, I'm just that hungry. I apologize. I got rid of it two days before that person branded me."
He stared at her in horror. "You mean you did all that, the masquerade, the…” He wiped a hand over his face. “Everything without a spell forcing you to obey? How could you?"
Sucking the last of her porridge from her spoon, she said, "I think the better question is how could I not?" Setting the bowl and spoon down, she thought about working her way through the plate of scones.
"I don't understand."
"If I had given her any indication that her spell had gone from me, she would have replaced it. I got very lucky once and had a great deal of help from Roland. I couldn't trust that I'd be strong enough a second time."
His eyes closed and he nodded. "I understand."
"Indeed. And I would have had no way to protect my children. It's likely I would have given them to her." She poured herself a cup of chocolate and sipped at the sweet brew as she looked outside, reminded of the last time Richard had given her chocolate. She thrust the thought away. It served no purpose to dwell on unpleasantness.
"I think I would have eventually taken my mother's course of action. She drank too much laudanum when the pain became too great." She stared at him, but didn't see him. The horror of those last few days would haunt her for a very long time. It was perhaps God's greatest gift that the memories of the pain she'd suffered were already growing rather fuzzy. However, it would be impossible to escape the memory of her debasement.
"I will not say that the time was easy. It was a nightmare. It was horrible and awful, and it will plague my dreams. The stench of my own flesh being cooked…" She coughed and looked down at her hands. "I had no choice."
He stretched his arm across the table and gripped her hand, his fingers tightening almost painfully. "You could have done something to make her give you another spell. It would have eased your pain, and you could have gotten rid of it again."
"It was all I could do to rid myself of the first one." She laughed, the sound dry and without mirth. "And what if she'd placed a stronger one that I couldn't remove?"
He nodded and lowered his eyes. "Yes, I see your point."
"I wish I hadn't burned my mother's journals. I would have liked for you to see them." She poured herself more chocolate, stirring the mixture to cool it. "She suffered for years from the loss of my brother and from being forced to give birth to me when she hadn't wanted to give my father another child."
Tears pricked her eyes, but she brushed them away. "She hated me for that and left me a message telling me that she wished me torment but hoped that I'd find redemption." She coughed out a sob. "She'd considered mixing her laudanum with sugar so I would take it."
He gasped in shock, his expression horrified. "I can't even imagine a mother doing such a thing to her own child!"
"I think my mother was ill. She mentioned feeling broken after A— I mean she, did that horrible thing. I made the only choice I could."
She yawned widely, surprising herself. Her head felt better now that she'd eaten, and the movement, though painful, had relaxed her muscles. "I believe I'd like to rest now. We can finish our discussion later."
He helped her to visit the necessary and waited outside the door. When she'd finished, he tucked her into bed and laid down beside her. She stiffened in surprise as he pulled her into his arms, spooning himself around her body.
"You're wrong, Elizabeth. I do know something about you."
"Oh?"
"I know you're the bravest person I've ever met."
Her lips twitched into a smile as she closed her eyes.
Chapter 15
In marriage do thou be wise: prefer the person before money, virtue before beauty, the mind before the body; then thou hast a wife, a friend, a companion, a second self.
William Penn
Someone had shut the window she'd demanded be left open, yet she could see the last rays of the setting sun as twilight blanketed the estate. Richard's warm body was still pressed against hers, yet when she rolled over to face him, she found him awake, his head propped up on his fist.
"I hope my rest didn't keep you from your duties."
"Not at all. You and our babies are the only duty I care about."
His eyes never left hers, and she began to feel a bit uncomfortable. Part of it was, of course, her bladder. Yet a greater portion was his intent blue gaze. She sat up, feeling much stronger than she had earlier. Her legs didn't even wobble when she stood. She felt quite proud of herself, but Richard caught her up into his arms and carried her into the bathing chamber.
"I can walk, you know."
"You couldn't earlier."
"It is no longer earlier."
He laughed, setting her on her feet next to the commode. "I believe you could argue the stripes off a tiger, my lady."
"Perhaps. I've never been allowed to try."
His smile faded, and she felt immediately sorry for ruining their good-natured sparring. She looked away, cursing herself for her ill-considered words. She'd only meant to tease.
He touched her shoulder. "You shall have plenty of opportunities, my lady."
"I'm sorry. I—"
"Don't be. We'll talk about it after you dress. Mrs. Abernathy is in a tizzy because of your avoidance of meat, but I hope you're pleased by her offering."
"She shouldn't fret so hard. I can simply get used to it."
"Elizabeth, hush." He tapped her nose firmly, his expression stern and unyielding, and she caught her breath. It was almost as if he'd become the kind, yet rather domineering earl she'd so loved to please in the early days of their marriage.
"I know why you won't eat it.” His jaw tightened and he was silent for a moment. “When you described your branding…” He shook his head and took her hand, dropping a kiss on her palm. “We won’t speak of that again. Mrs. Abernathy believes your aversion is because of your pregnancy. Neither of us will allow you to have meat right now. Perhaps after you give birth, you may try again."
She leaned against him, seeking his warmth and comfort. "I scarcely know what to say. I feel so weak and inept. Imagine a silly thing like food making me tremble and grow ill."
He wrapped his arms around her waist, leaning his head against her hair. "Mrs. Abernathy told me she couldn't abide the scent of lemons while she carried her children."
"Oh heavens! How did she manage? Servants use lemon to clean!"
"She muddled through, just as we will do." He kissed her forehead, his masculine scent of lime and sandalwood soothing her. "You may wash while I fetch you a dress to wear to supper."
When she'd finished in the bathing chamber, he played lady's maid for her, dressing her in a lovely pink frock the modiste had brought all those weeks ago, tightening her abdomen to allow Richard to fasten it. She sighed, knowing she would have to bring the woman back for things to fit her expanding waistline.
>
Despite her protests, he carried her down the stairs, through the halls, and into the dining room, ignoring the servants' gaping stares. He put her into a cushioned chair, sliding it in once she was seated.
The table was already set for the two of them and she glanced around in confusion. "Where are my father and Michael? Should they not be dining with us?"
"They've already dined. Michael will be leaving early tomorrow." He coughed uncomfortably, but his jaw hardened into stern lines. "I haven't decided yet whether I will allow your father to see you."
"Why not?"
"I don't care for how he treated you at our wedding. He won't be permitted to do it again."
She nodded and took a piece of apple and a bit of yellow cheese from the appetizer tray between them, giving her time to formulate her thoughts. She wasn't sure how she felt about Richard's rather autocratic decision. Shouldn't she be the one to determine whether or not she wanted to see her own father?
Yet she couldn't help but feel warmed by his concern, despite the argument she'd considered voicing. "I confess that I hadn't been looking forward to renewing our acquaintance."
Scowling darkly, he shook his head. "Your very words convince me that my decision was correct. If you feel you must renew an acquaintance with your own flesh and blood, I will tell him he must write a letter if he wishes to communicate."
"I see." She chewed on the apple and swallowed. "Thank you."
It was a relief not to be forced to deal with her father, yet she wondered if she should give him a chance to say something. There must be a reason he hadn't returned to his own home after so many days.
And perhaps she wasn't being entirely fair to him. If he'd suffered under A— If he'd suffered under the same geas she and Richard had, should she not give him a chance to make amends? She would have to think on it. Decisions made in haste always ended badly.
Mrs. Abernathy bustled in, followed by several servants bearing trays. "It is so good to see you up, my lady!" Her hands fluttered like nervous pigeons, and she clasped them to her ample breasts. "I hope you enjoy what I've prepared."
Wicked Deception (Wicked Magic Book 1) Page 17
