“Of course,” she said, turning away pensively to wash and dress for dinner.
***
“You’re telling me you pursued a musician from the Forest, married her, and haven’t told her you’re a Buck?”
Frederick slumped in the leather chair behind his desk. “Was a Buck.”
“That changes nothing,” continued Matthew Bohun, Earl of Peverel, known to his former secret society friends as Thorncock. “She needs to know the truth. She might have seen things!”
“Oh, she certainly saw things,” said Frederick, recalling the moment a tapestry revealed his entire body to the musicians, including his darling Marianne.
“Where’s Adam? And Edmund?” asked Anthony Paschal-Lamb, Viscount Corbet, who answered to Stagshade in the Bucks’ headquarters.
Frederick poured Matt a brandy from the decanters along the wall. “They’ve begged off — for good reason: their wives areenceinte.”
“Had I known,” said Thorncock, making as if to go.
“You too!” cried Frederick, slapping him on the back and handing him the glass as if it were a prize.
“Early days,” said Matthew, barely able to contain his delight. “We hadn’t expected it to happen so soon, but…”
“You old dog, I bet you didn’t stay off the poor girl,” said Anthony, knowing full well that Matt’s countess was a lusty lass with a taste for exhibitionism. “I’ve brought Letitia. No news along those lines for us yet, and I couldn’t bear the thought of being parted from her, even for a night.”
Frederick handed Anthony a glass of soda water.
“So here we are, a band of libertines brought low by love and babies,” said Frederick with a thoughtful sip. “Somehow, I don’t regret it.”
“You might find that you regret not telling your wife about your past, High Buckthorn,” said Anthony. “Don’t let fear of the truth impede your love.”
“When did you become a poet-philosopher, Stagshade?” asked Frederick, sinking into his chair grimly. His friend was right, but damn him!
“Is that what I sound like?” cried Anthony, slapping his leg. “Wait until I tell Letitia.”
Frederick heard the joy in his friend’s voice at the prospect of sharing with his wife. He wanted that. Not just the quotidian things and today’s feelings but sharing all he was and all he’d ever been. It was heady, if terrifying.
“I’ll summon Marianne now,” said Frederick. “And tell her everything. If you see her run from the house with ribbons in her hair, you know what to do.”
***
Marianne paused at the doorway of her husband’s study, now empty save for him.
He looked up, feeling quite hunted. “Come in.”
She glided in, flowers affixed to her gauzy dress and ribbons trailing from her hair and shoulders.
“You wore it,” he said.
Marianne glanced at the dress and hair ribbons he’d sent to her shortly after their arrival as a gift. A gift with a request: wear this tonight if you’d like to experience what we discussed.
And here she was, wearing that gown. Signaling that she truly wanted what he did from their marriage. It was his turn to offer something to her. Something that may be very unwelcome indeed.
“Perhaps you’d like a seat,” he said, gesturing to the chair before him.
“I think I’d rather stand.” She looked small and nervous. He’d done this to her. The deception needed to end now.
“Marianne, I must tell you something.”
Her eyes looked so full of fear that he came around the desk in case she swooned or felt otherwise unwell.
