It was the first time all evening that Hugh had been anything but easy, pleasant. His tone was sharp, and his gaze narrowed at Michael. My heart skipped for a moment. There was no lie in his countenance; he believed that, really truly, at least for this moment. And my heart believed him, too.
“I agree completely. With the one exception of course.” Michael said, tipping his head toward his wife. “I only meant that she is far too good for you. I had not thought your taste was that refined.”
Hugh held his brother’s gaze for a moment, staring him down. Michael’s explanation tracked through; he was far more likely to tease his brother than insult me outright. Hugh, apparently arrived at the same conclusion, easing back in his chair, warning gaze still hovering over Michael before shifting to me. His eyes flitted over my person, settling on my face. Finding whatever he was looking for, he took a calming swig of wine.
Juliet, ever skilled at managing tempers, suggested that we separate so the ladies could have our gossip time. We had been managing perfectly well with the gentlemen present, but she seemed to be communicating something with her husband with widened eyes and brow raises alone.
Thirty-Seven
THORNTON HALL, KENT - OCTOBER 20, 1814
HUGH
This conversation was goingto be costly. In order to lure Michael into the study, I had to bribe him with the good port. Unfortunately, once he was seated, I lost my nerve somewhat. It had taken two subsequent glasses to return the words to the tip of my tongue where they now hovered.
“Out with it,” he demanded.
Apparently, my unease was more obvious than I realized. “Out with what?”
“Whatever you’re trying to gather the fortitude to ask. You don’t share the expensive stuff lightly.”
With a sigh, I forced myself to begin. “You and Juliet, you seem to have an… affectionate marriage.”
He chuckled and took another sip. “That’s one word for it.” He was far too pleased with himself, and it was an irritating look on him.
“How does one… that is… how should I go about—”
“Increasing theaffectionin your marriage? I’m not certain how much assistance I can provide. Juliet’s… enthusiasm was somewhat of a surprise to both of us. A welcome one of course.” He paused with a significant brow raise and another sip, finishing the glass. He reached for the bottle between us and poured another glass with a heavy hand. “I think she was starved for affection—actual affection, not the euphemism—and I was the first lucky bastard to show her any.” He examined the contents of his glass with a furrowed brow, contemplating the condensation.
I was forced to abandon metaphors in favor of transparency. “Kate flinches at my touch.” I swallowed back the rest of my port, desperate to dull that memory.
When I finally risked a glance at him, his furrowed brow had turned in my direction. “Did you hurt her?”
“What? No, of course not.”
He relaxed somewhat, a more thoughtful expression blooming. “She flinches when you’re trying to beaffectionate? Or at all touch? Is it just with you?”
“I suppose it is not so much a flinch. It is a pause. She has to think about it. It is just with me, you have seen her and Juliet embrace. And it is not all my touches but most.”
“Does she react that way with any other men?”
My hackles were raised at that thought. “When would my wife be touching other men?”
“I didn’t mean to imply anything untoward, just trying to clarify. So, she hesitates even when you’re just trying to be near her? Not trying to initiate anything more?”
“Yes?” The word was more hesitation than answer. His question had me desperate to recall the last time I touched my wife without expectation. A sick feeling was building as I struggled to bring forth a memory.
“You are affectionate with your wife without further expectations, aren’t you?” My silence spoke more than my words ever could and the shame was all encompassing.
“Right, well I’d start there. Gentle touches with no intentions of further intimacy. What about the rest of it? Is she… enthusiastic generally?”
“She always allows my attentions.”
“She allows them? What does she say when you ask what she’d like to try or whether a touch is pleasurable?”
“I don’t ask.”
“You don’t ask?”
