by Cari Hislop
“Are you sure he didn’t burn them in celebration?”
“I hate you. My uncle is desperate to bed my Aunt so if there was a fire he’d save me before he saved you because she’d be more upset at my death than yours so there.” Lily flushed deep red in horror as her eyes slowly traveled over the floor and up her husband’s dusty clothes to his livid expression.
“Miss Philips, what I do or do not wish to do with my wife does not make a fit topic of conversation for a dependent. Repeat it and you’ll be eating porridge and water for a month. That means no sugar, no butter, no milk…porridge and water for every meal. Do you understand?”
“It’s not my fault. William…”
“It is your fault Miss Philips because you opened your mouth and flapped your tongue.”
“Ei! You flapped your tongue and jilted me you silly goose and now you’ll be lucky if some smelly old squire will take you as his fifth wife. Ha! I wouldn’t ask you to marry me again if you put a pistol to my head.”
“You heartless beast, I’m practically an orphan.”
“I’ve been an orphan for years. I’ve suffered longer.”
“Your mother didn’t tell you, you were a bastard minutes before she was ran over by a mail coach. I’d be dead too, but my uncle saved me.” Lily’s eyes sprang in horror back to Mr Bowen’s face. He hadn’t mentioned anything in his letter about saving Grace. All he’d written was that he’d been unable to save Rosamund. Mr Jones’ assertions that Mr Bowen was in love with her and that he wouldn’t risk his life had haunted her thoughts. If Mr Bowen had risked his life to save Grace, someone he didn’t even like, did that mean he wasn’t in love with her? The thought brought tears to her eyes as her heart started to deflate.
“Cariadon? Are you feeling ill?” She shook her head as he approached, his nearness causing more tears. “Of course you’re upset, you’ve lost a sister. That brat has upset you hasn’t she?”
Grace turned her head so she could glare one eye up at her rescuer. “Maybe you’re upsetting her with the stench of your dirty linen.”
Lily was relieved to see she wasn’t the only one with red cheeks as Mr Bowen choked on his embarrassment. “Mind your tongue Brat or I’ll hire a cab and send you to Grayson with my compliments and perchance you get any silly ideas; William is effectively penniless for the next nine months. He can’t afford a new hat let alone a trip to Scotland.”
“Why would I want him? He’s a beastly bore!”
“Because Morley will be canting into every available ear that he’s deflowered you which will considerably narrow your choice of husband.”
“Morley’s a lying snake turd!”
“That truth won’t save your reputation.”
“I hate you!”
“Good. Now if you’ll release my wife you can remain here exchanging insults with William while I talk with my wife in private elsewhere.”
The young woman sobbed harder as she clutched Lily. “Don’t leave me Aunt Lily! You’re all I have.”
“I’ll come as soon as I can Mr Bowen.”
He didn’t look pleased. He glared at his niece and then sighed in resignation. “She’s not to hurt you in any way. I’ve warned her; if she loses her temper she’ll wish she hadn’t. He caressed Lily cheek and sighed again. “I’m going to order a bath. As soon as you can detach Miss Grace, would you come to my room?” The enchanted swan was suddenly blushing again as he bashfully tipped the brim of his hat down over his face as he whispered. “I have a confession I wish to give in private.” He touched her face one more time before turning away and glaring at his nephew. “Be a gentleman or you’ll be eating porridge and water; two weeks should persuade you to treat Miss Grace like a lady.”
“A lady wouldn’t run away with Morley.”
“He said he’d marry me you hateful beast!”
“And you were the fool who believed him. I’ll celebrate the day you jilted me ‘till the day I die; you’re an idiot…”
“William!”
“What? She called me a hateful beast. I only called her an idiot.”
“A gentleman doesn’t belittle a lady.”
Grace picked her head off Lily’s shoulder and sneered at her rescuer, “You called me a she-devil!”
William’s raised eyebrows and smug smile appeared to darken Mr Bowen’s mood. “And for good reason; before you take me to task again Miss you might want to first remember that I’m the idiot who couldn’t leave you to freeze on Mr Philips doorstep.”
The words hung in the air as Mr Bowen turned and left the room calling for Jones to order a hip bath. Lily stood there holding her niece with questions swirling in her brain. What sort of confession? Was he going to tell her he’s bed some stranger or worse Rosamund? Lily shook the ugly thoughts from her head and concentrated on her niece.
…
Several hours later Grace had been washed, changed into one of Lily’s new nightgowns and put to bed; Lily had no more excuses to avoid Mr Bowen’s room. As she lifted her hand to knock on his door she could smell tobacco smoke wafting from under the door; he was waiting. Taking a deep breath she wrapped her knuckles against the wood. There was a slight pause. “Enter.” She closed the door behind her before looking towards the fire. He was standing there with wet hair in clean clothes watching her through an evaporating ring of smoke. “You finally escaped.”
“She’s sleeping.” Dark eyes pulled her closer. Floorboards protested, creaking their discomfort as she obeyed. “She didn’t like her room, but Jones insisted you’d chosen it. She seemed quite afraid of Jones.”
“If she kicks or hits anyone Jones will be lashing her backside. I suspect she’ll be keeping her temper until she marries some fool who panders to her pretty face. Does that displease you? You look upset.”
“It’s nothing…”
“That evil nothing again; do I finally get to hold you?” He took his pipe out of his mouth and set it on the mantel before holding out his arms calling her closer. His hands paused to admire her natural waist before wrapping around her. “I didn’t tell you that I’d rescued Grace because I didn’t want you worrying that I might do something equally stupid before returning. It wasn’t a rational act…I ran out and grabbed one and ended up with Grace. My blood turns to ice thinking of you alone at the mercy of her rage. Never again; she’ll learn to control her temper or wish she had. You’re not upset with me for burying Rosamund at the local church?”
“No.”
“Good.” He pulled her closer,” He moaned into her ear and pulled her closer. Pleasant chills ran down the right side of her body as wet kisses trailed over her right cheek. “I have a confession Cariadon.”
Lily didn’t want to hear about any other women. “Mr Bowen, I don’t care who you’ve bed. It doesn’t matter.” Adoring lips abruptly lifted off her cheek.
“What do you mean who I’ve bed?”
“You said you had a confession.”
His eyes filled with righteous indignation. “It doesn’t follow that I bed some wench; you don’t think I bed Rosamund do you?”
“I don’t care. I mean I do care, but it doesn’t matter.” Now he was glaring at her.
“I haven’t bed anyone since that last vile visit to Melisande. How could you think I would after what happened?”
“Now you’re angry with me.”
“With reason, my Cariadon thinks I’m a philandering old goat.” His arms withdrew from around her waist and reached for his pipe which he violently tapped over the fire to dislodge the old tobacco into the flames before refilling the bowl.
“But Mr Bowen, you made it clear the day we married that there would be other women.”
“I never said that.”
“You told me you had a mistress.”
“I don’t have a mistress now!”
“Exactly, so it’s perfectly reasonable of me to expect you to be bedding someone. I don’t understand why you’re so angry.”
“Don’t you expect to be that someone?�
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“You’ve been away for four days. Lady Gillingham said you’d go mad if you didn’t…”
“Lady Gillingham is a lying buwch.”
Lilly blushed as dark eyes reflected in the mirror hanging over the mantel held her spell bound. She bravely approached the fire and touched his sleeve. “I was so worried you’d die in a carriage accident. Jones said you wouldn’t. He said you’d make sure you’d return alive. I’m glad you didn’t tell me you’d rescued Grace. I would have been frantic with worry.”
“Frantic?” Eyebrows rose over dark eyes watching her through a smoke hazed reflection. “So this other man with beautiful legs hasn’t been haunting your thoughts?”
“Mr Bowen, there is no other man.”
“Correct me if I’m wrong Mrs Bowen, but I remember you saying ‘there is no other man, but I’m in love with a man’. If there’s no other man, there’s only one awful conclusion; you must be in love with a mythical godlike creature that just happens to have my face and legs. How can a mere mortal compete against a godlike version of himself? I wouldn’t know where to begin.”
The gleam in his eyes gave her courage to put a hand on his waist. “You could kiss me.”
“How will I know if you’re kissing me not this swan-god Zeus?”
Lilly slid her arm around his waist and stood on her tiptoes, offering her lips to the smiling eyes. “Why would I want to kiss Zeus when I could kiss you?”
“I’m feeling sweetly seduced. Why I was sulking just now?”
Lily smiled as he set aside his pipe and with a blissful sigh and put her head on his chest, but jumped away as Mr Bowen gasped in pain. “Did I hurt you?”
“No.” It was a tight little word. Lily pulled away her arms in confusion. His face was scrunched up as he touched his chest. “The she-devil kicked me. At least it’s not a broken rib. I think if you put your head on my shoulder…”
“Have you been examined by a doctor?”
“I’m bruised Cariadon, what can a mountebank do?”
“I’m going to send for the doctor.”
“He’ll look at my bruises and tell me I’m too old to be wrestling and then charge me three quid. I’d rather throw the money in the street.”
“I’m going to go tell Jones you need the doctor.”
“Wait! You haven’t heard my confession.” Lily stopped at the door and turned around. “Yr wyf fi’n eich caru chi.”
“What does that mean?”
“Come to my room this evening Cariadon and I’ll translate it for you. It’s strange how words one has never spoken to a living soul can be as familiar as the smell of autumn leaves waiting to be set alight.”
With her hand on the door handle Lily blushed with pleasure as he winked at her. “I have a confession too.” Eyebrows rose daring her to risk everything. “I love you. I’ve always loved you. That was my secret.”
Dark eyes filled with a solemn gratitude. “Cariadon…I can’t describe what those words have done to me. Come back here and let me show you with a kiss.”
“I’d better go send for the doctor before I accidentally kill you and die of a broken heart.”
“Yr wyf fi’n eich caru chi!” Alternating soft and guttural sounds followed her as she resisted temptation and hurried away to find Jones. Even half way down the stairs she could hear the sound of humming drifting out of Mr Bowen’s open door filling the house with happiness. He looked more than a little pleased to be the owner of her heart. Lily sighed in relief and felt invisible burdens lift off her shoulders and float away. Her heart was no longer alone; it was Mr Bowen’s companion. Lily’s euphoric happiness was interrupted by the sound of Rosamund’s voice sneering in her head, ‘You’re a greedy fat pig!’ Yes she was greedy. It wasn’t enough that she was Mr Bowen’s wife or that she enjoyed his kisses; she wanted his heart.
Chapter 25
The dining table, covered with a pristine white cloth, seemed to smile. Silver dishes and candle sticks glinted in the blaze of candlelight. Penryth had ordered the room to be well lit. He wanted to be able to look down the table and see the woman he loved blushing as he caught her eye. He’d counted twenty seven glances when he was disturbed by Grace, sitting half way down the table whispering across at William, “What’s wrong with your uncle? Why is he making that awful noise?” Penryth pretended he couldn’t hear as he buttered a slice of bread.
“He’s humming. It means he’s happy.”
“Happy? About what?”
“Jones thinks Uncle is in love with Aunt Lily. I told Jones he was an idiot, but he’s wagered me a gold guinea that Uncle’s lost his heart, but I happen to know Uncle hasn’t because he said so. That’ll be one guinea more than nothing in the next nine months.”
“In love? With Aunt Lily?”
“Shush! Uncle Penryth has the devil’s own ears. I swear he can hear a mouse fart.”
Penryth kept a straight face as he watched Lily look up from her plate at Grace and then slowly slide her eyes down the length of the table to where he was sitting infusing a concentrated dose of happiness into his blood. He winked at her and smiled as the sudden pink in her cheeks was accentuated by her ivory cap. In her new pale yellow dress she looked like a generous slice of pound cake topped off with a dollop of thick cream. “Is everything to your liking Mrs Bowen?”
“Yes, thank you Mr Bowen.”
“Good. I asked Jones to serve us some cake and chocolate in my chamber before bed. I wouldn’t want your sleep disturbed by an empty stomach.”
“That’s very kind of you Mr Bowen.”
“Is it? I didn’t say your sleep wouldn’t be disturbed.” He winked at her again as her face flushed a deep rose and stared down at her plate.
William snorted in contempt. “Aunt Lily will be lucky if she gets another full night’s sleep before she’s laid to rest in the crypt.”
“Penryth watched Lily stare at her plate. “Would you be upset if I disturbed your sleep for comfort Mrs Bowen?” A bashful glance from his wife and he was a green youth still smarting from his first shave. She knew exactly what sort of comfort he might seek.
“How do the Welsh say no?”
Penryth’s lungs ached for oxygen. The thought of waking in the night and being welcomed into magical arms made his own cheeks burn with uncertainty. Years of experience melted into meaningless images. Nothing had prepared him for the sensuous pleasure of falling into an emotional mountain of autumn leaves. “Na!” The word came out sounding like he was clearing his throat. He blushed again as his nephew stared at him with a concerned expression. “No is na. Yes is ei.”
Grace scrunched her face in disdain. “Why would anyone say na when they could say no? It sounds stupid.”
William’s upper lip curled in disdain. “Wanting to marry you was stupid! Welsh is older than English, isn’t it Uncle Penryth?”
Penryth’s eyes refused to be dragged away from the earlobe peeking out from underneath Lily’s cap. “Hmmm.”
“Grace snorted in contempt. “You can’t know that William; you weren’t alive then.”
“I am right, aren’t I Uncle Penryth?” Penryth made another noncommittal sound and continued to watch his wife who appeared to be having sudden difficulty keeping hold of her knife and fork. She was attempting to saw in half a round new potato, but her utensils were slipping in her hands and the potato kept sliding away to another part of her plate. Determined, she tried one more time to pin it down with a mutual fork full of chopped kale, but she lost control of her knife and the small round missile covered in oyster sauce and greens smacked her in the chest and fell into her lap. Consumed with a sudden need to touch his beloved, Penryth grabbed his clean serviette and hurried to her side waving it like a banner.
