“Whatever it is called. I like it when you practice in your shirtsleeves.” A distinctly masculine feeling of pride washed over me. She should always have opinions on my appearance. Even better still, she should always feel free to express them.
“And when is it that you’ve studied me enough to have an opinion on such things?”
“I watch you practice. Sometimes. Just like you watch me play on occasion. Is that all right?”
“All right? If you wish, I will have the ‘costume’ burned.”
“That is not necessary. You should practice with Michael more, he needs it.”
“Ah… Did you two enjoy yourselves this afternoon?” I asked, pleased with the answer I was confident I would receive.
“We did, thank you.” Her answer was pert, cheeky. I knew her well enough to detect the front for some embarrassment. I did not want her embarrassed because I liked her looking.
“Perhaps next time you can provide me with your favor. Then I can thrash my brothers even more thoroughly.”
“My very own knight.”
“Your very own everything.” I caught her hand, and pressed a kiss to the back of it. Her eyes darkened slightly once more, somewhere between emerald and turquoise in the firelight. I had already vowed to take this no further tonight. “We should retire, certainly Mary and Stevens will be wishing us abed.”
I rose to stand, her palm still grasped in mine, before tugging her to meet me. I led her along the corridors. There was a brief hint of lilac scent in the hall, but it was swiftly, easily overwhelmed by the jasmine that curled behind me,Kate.
With no candle to light the way, I relied on two decades of experience. Pausing outside of Kate’s door, the warm glow of the fireplace illuminating a half circle on the carpet below the door, I pressed her back against it. Not harshly, a guide really. Her head tipped back and lashes met cheeks, anticipating my goodnight.
The temptation to pillage, to take was there, but I parted from her with another chaste press of lips. I was met with a wanting gaze when I pulled away. “Sweet dreams, my Katie.”
“Good night, Sir Hugh.” I left her with a wink she likely could not make out in the near blackness of the hall. Probably a good thing, it felt awkward as I did it, more a flinch than the intended debonair gesture.
Inside my chambers, I could hear the soft sounds of fabric rustling followed by the tap of pins hitting the glass top of her dressing table. She must have decided not to call on Mary. I was not in the particular mood for Stevens’s usual brand of sarcasm this evening either.
Eventually, I slipped between the cool sheets, staring at the canopy above my bed. If my fingers trailed across my lips, seeking the phantom press of hers, who was to know?
It seemed extraordinary, after nearly a year of marriage, to be so giddy over a simple kiss. It was a strange combination, the delight over the experience, the feeling, the promise of more some day—perhaps even in the not-too-distant future—was accompanied by regret.
Tonight was not our first kiss. If she ever welcomed me back in her bed, it would not be our wedding night. Those moments were gone, leaves carried away by the wind never to be seen again. I had taken those for granted in my ignorance and selfishness. Had I but known… Had I taken a mistress or visited a brothel, I might have understood what I was missing, and known how to do better. But if I had experienced the cheap imitation I would have found in the arms of another, could that possibly have satisfied me? It seemed entirely unlikely.
It was irrelevant. All I could do was press forward, ensure the days to come were better than the days passed.
Forty-Three
THORNTON HALL, KENT– NOVEMBER 23, 1814
KATE
Morning dawned,bright and clear for once, on the fourth day afterthatnight. Kisses came freely, eagerly. As it turned out, the most effective way to convince me of the falsehood of Hugh’s words that night at Lady James’s ball, was his complete inability to keep his lips off mine. A few kisses were doing more to mend that ache than any words he could have provided. Now, it seemed, the dam had burst, and Hugh could think of little else. Oh, he still had not pressed for more. He continued to honor his promise to wait. But now… I wished he would push.
The feelings he evoked, the ideas Jules put in my head, I wanted to experience them all. Hugh was proving far from scandalized when I reacted with passion to his attentions. It led to a certain confidence. But it also resulted in the frustration of unmet desires. Sleep had been hard-fought and easily interrupted for days.
Had my husband always been sopresent? He seemed to take all the space in whatever room he was in until all I could see, hear, and breathe was him. Across the room, next to me, touching me, kissing me, it made no difference. I was, however, absolutely certain that the little brushes of his hand, the whisper of his shoulder against mine, were completely new phenomena.
The sudden nearness made his absence today all the more stark. I had been uneasy all day, wandering from room to room searching for whatever it was I had misplaced. It was not until I found my way into his study and caught the smoke and vanilla hint of scotch I understood. I had misplaced my husband.
He had set off for the far reaches of the estate with Tom at first light. Weeks parted from this man, decades of life before him, and now I was incapable of being separated from him for mere hours.
It seemed as though his campaign to win my affections was more effective than I had anticipated. I could not bring myself to regret it. This was the feeling that I had been dreaming of in my marriage, the first tentative steps of it anyway. Perhaps not love, yet. But it had the makings of that feeling.
Early in the evening, the skies decided to share in my dissatisfaction. A light drizzle began, cold and miserable. The servants hardly needed instructions to have water ready for baths as soon as my boys returned.
I tittered anxiously at the pianoforte, plucking away at one of my new pieces with little success and even less interest. Early evening turned into late evening. Supper came and went.
