His face set and his body turned to stone, but he couldn’t muster the callous laughter or the clever witticism needed to complete this too familiar scene. He had tasted happiness in her arms, and hope, and he could not let them go without knowing why.
“Jessica, I know I’ve been…difficult,” he said. “All the same—”
“Difficult?” She looked up, her grey eyes wide. “You have been impossible. I begin to think you are not right in the upper storey. I knew you wanted me. The one thing I’ve never doubted was that. But getting you into bed—you, the greatest whoremonger in Christendom—gad, it was worse than the time I had to drag Bertie to the tooth-drawer. And if you think I mean to be doing that the rest of our days, you had better think again. The next time, my lord, you will do the seducing—or there won’t be any, I vow.”
She stepped back and folded her arms over her bosom. “I mean it, Dain. I am sick to death of throwing myself at you. You like me well enough. And if the first bedding didn’t prove we suit in that way at least, then you are a hopeless case, and I wash my hands of you. I willnotpermit you to make a wreck of me.”
Dain opened his mouth, but nothing came out. He shut it and walked to the window. He sank onto the cushioned seat and stared out. “Worse than…Bertie…to the tooth-drawer.” He gave a shaky laugh. “Thetooth-drawer. Oh, Jess.”
He heard her slippered footsteps approaching. “Dain, are you all right?”
He rubbed his forehead. “Yes. No. What an idiot.” He turned and met her frowning gaze. “High-strung,” he said. “That’s the trouble, isn’t it? I’m high-strung.”
“You’re overwrought,” she said. “I should have realized. We’ve both been under a strain. And it’s harder on you because you are so sensitive and emotional.”
Sensitive. Emotional. He had the hide of an ox—and about the same intelligence, apparently. But he didn’t contradict her.
“A strain, yes,” he said.
“Why don’t you have a bath, too?” she suggested. She smoothed his hair back from his forehead. “And while you enjoy a good long soak, I’ll order dinner.”
“I’ve ordered it,” he said. “They should be up with it soon. I thought we might dine here. It would save the bother of dressing for dinner.”
She studied his face, and slowly her mouth eased into a smile. “Perhaps you’re not quite as hopeless a case as I thought. What about Sherburne?”
“I sent a footman to Chudleigh with a note,” he said. “I informed Sherburne I’d see him at the wrestling match. Saturday.”
She stepped back, her smile fading. “I see.”
“No, you don’t.” He rose. “You’re coming with me.”
He watched her chilly composure ebb as she took in the last sentence and decided to believe him. Her soft mouth curved upward again and silver mist shimmered in her eyes.
“Thank you, Dain,” she said. “I should like that very much. I’ve never seen a proper wrestling match before.”
“I daresay it will be a novel experience all round,” he said, gravely eyeing her up and down. “I can’t wait to see Sherburne’s face when I arrive with my lady wife in tow.”
“There, you see?” she said, unoffended. “I told you there were other benefits to having a wife. I can come in very handy when you wish to shock your friends.”
“There is that. But my own comfort was my first consideration,” he added as he edged away. “I shall want you about to cater to my whims and soothe my sensitive nerves and…” He grinned. “And warm my bed, of course.”
“How romantic.” She pressed her hand to her heart. “I believe I shall swoon.”
“You’d better not.” Dain headed toward the door she’d entered. “I can’t wait around to pick you up. My bladder is about to explode.”
With the world securely in order, Dain was able to devote the leisurely bath time to editing his mental dictionary. He removed his wife from the general category labeled “Females” and gave her a section of her own. He made a note that she didn’t find him revolting, and proposed several explanations: (a) bad eyesight and faulty hearing, (b) a defect in a portion of her otherwise sound intellect, (c) an inherited Trent eccentricity, or (d) an act of God. Since the Almighty had not done him a single act of kindness in at least twenty-five years, Dain thought it was about bloody time, but he thanked his Heavenly Father all the same, and promised to be as good as he was capable of being.
His expectations in this regard were, like most of his expectations, very low. He would never be an ideal husband. He had almost no idea how to be a husband at all—beyond the basics of providing food, clothing, shelter, and protection from life’s annoyances. And getting brats.
As soon as offspring came into his mind, Dain slammed his dictionary shut. He was in a good humor. He didn’t want to spoil it by fretting, and working himself into another fit of insanity over the inevitable. Besides, there was an even chance the brats would come out like her rather than him. In any case, he wouldn’t be able to prevent their coming because there was no way he could keep his hands off her.
He knew a good thing when he had it. He knew that tumbling his wife was about as close to experiencing heaven as he’d ever get. He was far too selfish and depraved by nature to give it up. As long as she was willing, he wasn’t going to worry about consequences. Something horrible was bound to happen, of course, sooner or later. But that was how his life worked. Since he couldn’t prevent it, whatever it was, he might as well take his motto from Horace:Carpe diem, quam minimum credula postero. Seize the day, put no trust in the morrow.
Accordingly, with matters properly sorted out and settled for the present, Dain joined his wife for dinner. During the meal, he further revised his dictionary. To her odd list of accomplishments he had already added a comprehension of the art of boxing. At dinner he discovered she possessed a knowledge of wrestling as well, gleaned from sporting periodicals and male conversations. She had reared not only her brother, she explained, but ten boy cousins as well—because she was the only one who could “manage the lot of ignorant savages.” Yet not one of the ingrates would take her to a professional match.
“Not even Polkinhorne’s bout with Carr,” she told Dain indignantly.
That famous match had also taken place in Devonport, two years ago.
