“I told you I should make you a good wife.” She glanced up from her task. “I need neither Lady Stanton’s lessons nor your instruction.”
He frowned at her opinionated tone. What’s more, he was still irked she’d discovered that poem by Blake. He’d hate to think she would ‘discover his joys & desires,’ only to ‘bind him with briars.’
“You must open gifts too. Here”—he grabbed another from the pile—“this one has your name on it, and this has mine.”
Elizabeth put down her pen to slowly untie the ribbon, revealing a book. She read its dedication, “A gift from the Duchess of Allendale,” then smiled at the title. “Il merito delle donne,orThe Worth of Women: Wherein is Clearly RevealedTheir Nobility and Their Superiority to Menby Moderata Fonte.”
“Moderata who? Never heard of her. And I am not the least impressed by that title.” He snorted. “Leave it to some Italiandonnato declare her superiority over men.”
“Are you familiar with our own English luminary, Mary Wollstonecraft?A Vindication of the Rights of Womanis a book you, sir, ought to memorize.”
Had his wife just teased or scolded?
“Is that so?”
“Yes,” she told him primly. “You may borrow my copy.”
“Why Elizabeth, how very generous of you. I’ve a few books I might recommend you read, too.”
“Oh?”
“Yes.” His frown deepened, for she clearly thought him a bumpkin, despite his vast collection of tomes. He opened the box on his lap and pulled out a pair of red stockings and a note of?—
A chuckle escaped his chest; he knew this gift giver’s scrawl.
“Milton?” Lizzie quizzed him through her spectacles. “What have you received, please, and from whom?”
“The Duke of Allendale has given me a pair of red silk stockings with matching red ribbons.” He suppressed a grin.
“Stockings?” Her brow furrowed. “Is this a joke, sir?”
“I do not don women’s garments, Lizzie, if that is what you think. Though I know men who—” He checked himself. “It is a jest between friends.”
The cheek of Wellesley!
She handed him another package, and while he opened it, she furtively pulled the Duke’s note from the box, reading the same words he just had.
For Lord Redstocking, with gratitude for past services rendered. May your marriage be as happy as mine, old friend. —Wells
That night Elizabeth was told to await her husband in his bedchamber, though the instruction had come from Gerald this time, rather than Milton himself.
Ginny’s compassionate look told Elizabeth not to test the Baron’s direct order.
She tamped down the excited panic in her breast, wrapped her banyan about her nakedness, and opened the door to her husband’s chamber.
For a moment she stared at his room, because she’d been unable to observe anything but the plush carpet and firm mattress up to now. Tonight she noted the plain, dark drapes and simple wallpaper, his only two paintings those of a stormy landscape and a pompous Mutton in canine pose. Books were piled haphazardly on end tables and dressers amid decanters of liquor and snuff boxes, or were they boxes of pipe tobacco instead? It was every bit a masculine room, yet wholly unlike the rest of the house. Milton’s bedroom was stark in comparison—and not a little out of order.
She longed to rifle through his books but did not dare.
The space surprised her, given how neat he kept his person and his dress. Yet the man also chose to dine alongside his staff; she’d been shocked to take dinner with her husband downstairs at the servants’ table, rather than in the formal dining room. She’d sat beside Milton while Gerald had sat opposite, dishes passed hand to hand amidst pleasant household chatter.
An’ Mutton approves o’ the missus, Jasp?She’d overheard her husband’s groom, two seats down, conversing with the Baron. The fact that every servant called Milton by his Christian name still boggled Elizabeth’s mind.
Her husband’s laugh had been so warm, so different in response.I’ll say he did! Ignored me through breakfast, th’ cheeky mutt, an’ wouldn’t leave ’er side! I’ve a mind t’ give t’ beast a drubbin’ fer it!He’d been as crass as the rest, Cockney spilling from his lips, as if Milton were not at all whom he presented to the world outside his own home’s walls. Perhaps here he was more his true self. Though not with her. With his wife he remained an enigma, a taskmaster, a…
Footsteps approached from the hall and Elizabeth quickly threw off her robe to assume the position he’d insisted she display. Such ‘marital duty’ made her feel apprehensive and exposed. It also made her?—
Two raps to door. “Elizabeth?”
