When she glanced over at him, though, he was frowning, and his jaw seemed to be clenched.
“Did he ever hit you?” He ground the question out, almost as though he was afraid to hear the answer.
The first year had been the worst. He hadn’t hit her, so much as… subdued her, often leaving bruises on her wrists and thighs. When she didn’t answer right away, Mr. Bateman made a growling sound and rubbed one hand down his face.
“I tried to… do as he asked.” He’d told her to relax and hold still for him.
But there had always been pain, and when she’d experienced the acute discomfort, she couldn’t help but try to pull away, to close herself so that he couldn’t get to her.
“He gave up after a year and after that, aside from…” controlling her every move. “well, he no longer visited my chamber.” He had hit her though. There had been occasions when he’d find fault with something she’d said, or done, and felt it his duty to dole out her punishment.
“He’s eaten over half of it.” Aubrey announced brightly, happy to discuss anything else but this. “Although he’s making something of a mess.” Drool and bubbles frothed out of Mr. Dog’s mouth as he searched around the bowl and gummed the pieces of food he’d gotten a hold of.
“He never kissed you, though?” Mr. Bateman persisted.
It didn’t make her angry that he would not let go of the painful subject, which was odd. Ironically, she almost felt as though by telling him, that she was letting some of it go.
It was her past and there was nothing she could do to change it.
Her husband had taken her body, but he’d not stolen her first kiss. The thought made her smile.
“He did not.”
Mr. Bateman poured some wine into a cup and handed it across to her. She refused to imagine how all of this food would settle onto her small frame and instead thoroughly enjoyed it. The wine, the cheese, the meats, the sweets… all of it. But especially the company.
As the fire burned, they discussed their favorite authors and he described to her some of the paintings he’d come across during his time in London.
The sun had set, and without much moonlight, it seemed a thousand stars shone above them by the time they had consumed the full bottle of wine and over half of the food. They would keep the rest for the morning.
“What of Mr. Daniels?” She asked when Mr. Bateman rose to store the basket inside of the carriage.
Mr. Bateman gestured toward the other side of the carriage to where the horses had been tied off. When he lifted a finger to his lips, she silenced herself enough that she could hear the loud snoring sounds coming from the other side.
“I believe he’s made use of his gin.”
Which meant that she and Mr. Bateman might just as well be alone. Except for Mr. Dog of course, and he wasn’t much of a chaperone at all.
“If you wish to change behind the tent, you can have your privacy. I’ll fetch us water to clean up.” He offered her his hand and when she gave him hers, tugged until she’d risen to her feet. Aubrey swayed slightly. “Steady there.” He grasped her elbow.
She hadn’t drunk any wine since before she’d married.
“Thank you.” The good food, the night air, the fire, the wine and his company all combined had left her in a fuzzy state of… contentment but also… anticipation.
He didn’t move until she’d turned toward the tent to change. Since he’d removed her trunk from the carriage and placed it beside the tent, she easily retrieved her night rail and dressing gown––both modestly made up of cotton, high necked and long sleeved. It would feel refreshing to change out of the dress she’d worn all day. Not only was it covered in mud from Mr. Dog’s bath, but smoke from the fire clung to it as well.
“Here’s a bowl of water.” He’d hardly made a sound moving through the darkness alone. “At least we didn’t use all of your soap on Mr. Dog.”
Aubrey smiled back at him. Bathing her “son” with Mr. Bateman that morning had been the best time she’d had in years.
“You will…” Aubrey needed to ensure that she’d have privacy. “turn your back?”
“I’ll do better than that. Give me the mutt and I’ll walk him in the meadow before we bed down. That way you’ll have the firelight to see what you’re doing.”
Aubrey handed over the leading string and watched him walk away once again.
Why was this man so special—so kind, and protective and generous? Were there others similar to him? Had she only seen the bad side of the opposite sex while living in Rockford Beach?
“Don’t take all night!” He shouted over his shoulder, jolting her into action.
