“Barely, sir,” Wells reported. “I fear he lies abed most days.”
“Damn shame, damn shame,” Merrinan muttered. “Terrible to grow old, I tell you. God-awful business.”
“My mother sends her regards as well, Sir Benedict.”
“Fine woman, yes. Fierce, but very fine. Always did like your mother, boy. Gumption . . .” he trailed off.
Charles put her hand on her father’s arm. “Papa, would you like to lie down a bit and rest?”
“That you, Addy? Where is Charles? She run off again? Tell her his grace is here to visit. He’s brought his boy, let them play.”
“I will, Papa.” She helped him rise and gently guided him towards his bed.
Eleanor fixed her gaze on Wells. “I should like a word alone with you, my lord.”
Wells knew he was in for it but gave her his arm anyway. “Shall we take a stroll about your garden, miss?”
She accepted his offer, but once outside, she tightened her grip and her words. “My lord, as your sister now, I am at liberty to speak freely, am I not?”
“Eleanor, I believe you are at liberty to call me Roland, and I recall you did not hesitate even before I married your sister to speak freely to me.”
She pursed her lips. “Be that as it may,Roland”—she tried on the name—“not only are you now my brother, but John too, by marriage, will soon be brother to you also.”
Wells was pleased by the thought. “Why, so he shall, Eleanor. It seems I will be doubly blessed.”
“And doubly cursed, sir.” Her eyes locked on his. “For if you ever again mistreat my sister in so shameless and baseless a manner as you did before, so help me God both John and I will?—”
He stilled his steps to take both her hands in his. “Eleanor, I believe this conversation were better had with Charles, forIam a reformed man and shall endeavor the rest of my days to pleasemy wife. She, on the other hand, shall likely punish me for the rest of our married life.” He did his damnedest to look contrite. “So I would beg you remind your sister not to abuse her husband too terribly in future, though he may rightly deserve it.”
Eleanor took one look at his face and threw her head back in merry laughter. She slipped her arm in his, reminding him very much of his wife in that moment. “I look forward to deepening our acquaintance, brother, for I’ve a feeling we shall both be turning to one another in future when it comes to Charles.”
“I’m scared, Fox,” Wells quietly told her as they lay spent upon the shell room’s floor, having snuck away from the evening’s revelry—their own wedding celebration no less. They’d fled the festivities just as they’d fled them at Christmas, finding refuge here amongst the sea and stars.
She pursed her lips. “Dread Pirate Wells, what in heavens has you scared? You, who are without doubt the most brash, cocksure, vainglorious, conceited?—”
“You, Charles,” he told her truthfully. “I am scared you will regret marrying me now and run off again, taking a new lover and leaving me here to?—”
“What nonsense is this?” She leaned up on one elbow to stare him down, looking every bit a haughty, naked duchess.
“Youcanbe rather frightening.” He was unwilling to meet her eyes.
“Roland, look at me.”
He did, grudgingly.
“You are not only foolish to think such things, you are a coward even to speak them.” He tried interrupting but she would not let him. “No, it is true—and exactly what I feared wouldhappen.” She let out a snort. “Now that you have gotten what you wished, you no longer want it.” Her mouth hardened into a line. “Husband, have you tired of me already?”
He was pained to think she thought so little of him so soon. “No, you misunderstand entirely, Charles. I am in earnest, for I fear that despite marriage now I still don’t . . . That is, I won’t everhaveyou in the truest sense.” He met her eyes at last.
She stared at him a moment in shock. “You wish to own me.”
“God no!” he cried. “As if I ever could, woman. As if I’d even want to break the very spirit that endears you to me so.”
“Then I do not understand you, sir, that you should question so utterly the vows we spoke in marriage. Do they mean so little to you?” She seemed suddenly rather bitter, and he was at once desperate to fix matters.
“No, Fox. Only my own father kept mistresses, my own mother took men to her bed, and they, like us, spoke the very same vows before God.”
“Yet they are not us, Roland, and we are not them. My parents took no other lovers; you see how my father suffered the loss of his wife. So do not tell me love is fickle. Do not tell me vows are made in jest, for I meant every word I spoke the day we wed. Every word.”
