“No.”
“Surely at least one? How else would you know how I should treat mine?”
Leonie held firm under his assault. “Common sense, my lord.”
“Patience cures clumsiness?”
“He would not be so clumsy if you did not scowl at him so,” she replied.
“I see. So when Damian faces his enemy on the field, he will do well if his enemy smiles at him? But let that enemy scowl at him even once and what have you? A sword dropped through nervous fingers instead of spilled wine. Your common sense would be the death of Damian.”
Leonie blushed furiously. Everything he said was true. If Damian did not learn to control his nervousness now, he would not live to be a knight. Serfs and women could be clumsy, fighting men could not.
“I concede,” she offered. “Yet I still say you were overly harsh with the boy. A small measure of patience once in a while would benefit youboth.”
“You recommend patience for the boy—what do you recommend for yourself?”
Leonie raised her eyes to his slowly and asked in a sweetly innocent tone, “Have I raised your displeasure, too, my lord?”
Rolfe was not amused. He was in fact infuriated by her attempt to make light of his anger.
“What do you recommend?” he repeated darkly.
“Retreat.”
“Unacceptable.”
“Then another measure of patience, my lord.”
“Patience without reward is not worth the effort,” he shot back.
A warning. He expected too much. If he was not willing to give, neither was she.
“Reward comes only to the deserving.”
“You mean I am not deserving?”
“That is a matter for your conscience, my lord.”
“Damn me, what has conscience to do with this?” he demanded. “My conscience is clear!”
“No doubt,” she returned.
To say any more now was dangerous. Rolfe drained the last of his wine and bellowed for more.
Leonie let out a sigh. She should never have spoken to begin with. There was no reasoning with such a man.
Most men lived by a double standard and her husband was no different. You could not tell him he was wrong, and you could not question his integrity as he saw it. And as he saw it, there was nothing wrong with his keeping a mistress in the same household as his wife. Or with letting his mistress direct the household. A man’s adultery was always winked at, but woe betide the wife with inclinations to stray. Hypocrites all! She might have to live with it for there was very little she could do about it, but she would not condone the hypocrisy of it.
The meal was ruined, but she had no appetite anyhow. It was bad enough having to eat with her belly knotted with tension, but the food was awful, tasteless, without benefit of spices. Even the minced meat paste made with milk and bread crumbs to spread on bread was lacking herbs. There was cheese made from ewes’ milk, but the butter that would have enhanced the vegetables was rancid. It vied with the stench from the rushes.
“Do you give me leave to retire, my lord?”
Rolfe looked at her for a long time before he nodded curtly. But he stopped her just as she turned away.
“Leave your spite behind, Leonie. I will join you soon.”
It was still early, and the last place Leonie wanted to await her husband was in his bed. The memories it aroused warred with her embitterment, causing a frustration that had her pacing the floor. It was not fair to be placed in this limbo. She could not have Rolfed’Ambert for a real husband, nor would he leave her alone. All that was left was a frustration that she would have to tolerate until he no longer found his newest possession amusing.
