“Oh?” Charles’s voice sounded indifferent, but she wasn’t fooled by it. “I applaud you. Better to pick on one of the better poets.”
“I shall keep that in mind. Who would you recommend? Not poor Keats? He is not robust. Byron, perhaps?”
“He would be willing.”
“Perhaps he might be. But I am not attracted to poetical gentlemen in that manner, Charles. You must know that, for I married you, remember?”
Charles chuckled. “Touché,Nellie.” Charles’s smile faded. “Beverly is enceinte. Did Jason tell you?”
“Yes, and I couldn’t be more pleased for them. Your mother will be thrilled.”
Nellie glanced up at him, but in the dim light of the carriage lamps, couldn’t read anything into his expression. She thought again of the little boy she’d seen in Bond Street with his mistress. That he might have a son no longer seemed to have the power to hurt her. If he was Charles’s son, did Charles love him? And support him? She suspected Charles guessed what she was thinking, for he fell silent.
When they reached home, Nellie said goodnight and retired alone.
It was several days before Beverly’s reply to her letter came. She wrote that she was in good health, but Jason fussed over her too much. The dowager duchess, however, was ill, and a physician had been called up from London.
“My former governess, Mrs. Perlew, has written to me,”Beverly added.“She wishes an introduction to you. Mrs. Perlew is in the process of setting up a home for orphaned children in London and hopes you might agree to be their patroness. I said I would recommend her to you as she is a determined woman committed to her cause. I have included her address here, should the orphanage appeal.”
But of course she would. Nellie set about replying immediately. She would invite Mrs. Perlew to come and see her.
Nellie asked Charles about his mother that evening when they dined alone before attending the theatre to see the famous actor, Edmund Kean, perform inRichard III.
He pushed his plate away and rubbed a hand over his jaw, his blue eyes darkening, making Nellie regret she’d raised the subject. “I am worried about her,” he said heavily. “Jas will keep me up to date.”
She reached out and touched his hand. “We must go soon to see her.”
Charles nodded abstractly. She was aware of the long hours he spent at the beck and call of the government since the war had ended.
“You look tired, Charles,” she said with a throb of concern for him in her heart.
“I am a little tired of London, I must say. It was expected that the end of the war would bring good fortune, but we are facing an economic slump and much unrest. The agriculturalists with Fairbrother’s backing have secured a new Corn Law.”
“What does that mean?”
“It places a heavy duty on foreign wheat. Its intention is to aid the English farmer by keeping out cheap foreign grain.”
“Isn’t that a good thing?” she asked.
“Taxing imported grain will keep up grain prices and rents and raise, rather than lower, the cost of bread.”
“So more hardship for the people.”
He nodded, and she was gratified to find respect for her in his eyes.
“You are a good man, Charles,’ she couldn’t help saying.
He smiled. “An imperfect man, perhaps, Nellie.”
“No.” She shook her head as she put down her napkin and rose from the table. “But some of us are a little less than perfect, I grant you.”
He rose from his seat and approached her. She waited, hoping he would enfold her in his arms, but he merely raised her hand and pressed a kiss to it. “I must change for the theatre.” He bowed his head and left her.
Nellie bit her lip as she hurried to her bedchamber to change. Had irrevocable damage been done to their marriage? Would he ever allow her to get close to him? To love him?
*
The following Tuesday,Mrs. Perlew, a stiffly upright woman with a strong chin, dressed severely in brown, came to see Nellie. Her face gentled when she spoke of the children and her orphanage. She and Mr. Perlew had not been blessed, but there was a son from her husband’s previous marriage.
