“He does. It’s a family heirloom.” There was the cool rustle of silk. “He wouldn’t shoot you, though.”
“It wouldn’t be the first time.” He’d been at the business end of rather too many weapons in his lifetime. One of them was bound to do the job eventually. “Probably he’ll be wise enough to wait until after the wedding. Better a widowed daughter than a ruined one.”
She made a strange sound, like she had tried for a laugh and missed the mark. “He won’t be…pleasant,” she said.
“I know better than to expect pleasantness from your sort, especially considering the circumstances.”
“But he’s a good man at heart,” she said. “He’ll—”
Come around, he thought she must have meant to say. But she didn’t. Perhaps she couldn’t. Perhaps it was only now dawning upon her that probably a good number of people she knew would notcome around. Ever.
“He’ll accustom himself to it,” she said, though her voice was notably duller than once it had been. Another rustle of fabric; hecould imagine her smoothing at her skirts in nervous agitation.
“Have you not changed out of your gown yet?” he asked.
“Haven’t had the time. Mama and Papa have only just gone to bed. It took a great deal of time to convince them that I could hardly get myself into any more trouble than I already have done.” A brief hesitation. “I suppose you’ve changed already?”
“God, yes. I felt like a sausage stuffed into a casing. I spend the better part of my leisure hours in my banyan these days.”
“You’re in a banyan now? Out of doors?” There was a wealth of scandalized shock in her voice, as if she could hardly conceive of anything less appropriate. “In yourgarden?”
“It’s my damned garden. Why shouldn’t I be?”
“Because it is not done.”
“There seems to be quite a lot that isnot donefor no good goddamned reason,” he said. “I paid a princely sum for this house; I’ll walk about the garden stark bloody naked if I’ve a mind.” And then, just to offend her delicate sensibilities: “I have before.”
“You havenot.”
“I have. Twice while we’ve spoken.” He didn’t know if the sudden silence from her side of the wall was shock or doubt. Perhaps both in equal measure.
A swift breath. “I don’t believe you,” she said finally. “You wouldn’t—notreally. What if someone saw you?”
It sounded like a challenge; one she likely didn’t even realize she had issued. And it was a balmy enough night, with just a light breeze. His hands went to the tie of his banyan. “Anyone foolish enough to spy upon me will either quickly learn better than to invade my privacy—or else enjoy the show.” He wasn’t particular about which it happened to be. “Probably you should have inquired about my bad habits before you agreed to marry me. I don’t intend to change them, and it’s a bit too late for regrets now. Incidentally, it’s quite a nice night to be naked in thegarden.”
“You’re just poking fun at me,” she declared, and the certainty in her voice was charming. There was a soft, strange sound, as of delicate silk threads being pulled at by the rough stone of the bench she sat upon there against her side of the wall. The slide of slipper soles on the ground. A grunt, a scrabble. A sound from above his head. He turned to see a pair of dainty hands grasp at the top of the wall, heard a strained sound of effort as she dug her blunt nails into the stone to secure her grip. A moment later, the top of a blond head appeared, followed by a pair of blue-grey eyes.
A tiny, half-smothered screech. “You’re naked!”
There was flurry of odd sounds—a heavy landing, a thud, and a groan. He suspected she’d tried to hastily step away from the wall and had forgotten that she’d had to stand upon the stone bench to reach the top. Probably she’d bruised her backside in the fall, though he’d heard nothing to suggest she’d seriously injured herself.
“You didn’thaveto look,” he said.
“You could have been lying!”
“Why should it have mattered? You’d never have known if I hadn’t told you.” It wasn’t even about her; it was about the freedom to do as he pleased. One never appreciated freedom quite so much as when it was denied, and her sort—her sort had a great deal of power, but allowed themselves remarkably little freedom. They lived in a world full of arbitrary rules, as if they defined themselves more by what they didnotdo than what theydid. “You can put on as many layers of petticoats as you like,” he said. “You can wear gloves and stockings and chemises. Your men can wear trousers and waistcoats and shirts and smallclothes. Beneath them, we’re all naked.”
“Good Lord,” she sighed. “What have I gotten myself into?”
That, he thought, was yet another question she had asked just a bit too late.
Chapter Six
The steady clatter of carriages on the street outside had been a harbinger of things to come. Chris had known he’d be braving a gauntlet of disapproval this morning, when he intended to call upon Phoebe’s family. He just hadn’t known how much of one it would turn out to be.
Every Toogood in London had descended upon the home next door. Every last one of them. Six sisters, one brother, their various spouses, and every damned child they had between them.
All twenty-seven of them, he suspected. It was enough to ice his blood in his veins.
