He often acted this way when he came home.Whereas he had once not thought anything of domestic pleasures—or so he’d informed her—he now often became disgruntled if anything kept him from home for too long.She often had to remind him that certain activities on a farm were guaranteed to take all day and that he wasn’t paid for his activities pleasing her in the bedchamber.
He was likely to grumble more soon.In addition to his duties at Parkhorne, he had agreed to serve as steward for both Mr.Dermott and Mr.Lambet.The increase in income was significant, but it would naturally mean more time away from home.He had wanted to decline the positions when they had been offered on that score, but Scarlett knew they had to think of the future.
She reached up and kissed him.“You must be hungry,” she said.
“Yes, I am,” he growled in her ear.
She laughed.“You must eat first.Supper is ready.”
Despite his eagerness, she could see that he was tired.
It was only later that night, when they were in bed, that she reminded him of the day.
He was lying beside her, reading over a treatise on a novel type of seed drill.
“Do you remember, husband, what day it is today?”
He looked at her.“I believe it is June the seventeenth.”
Her stomach dipped in disappointment.He did not remember, then.
“Yes, I believe it is,” she said, looking down and feeling almost foolish.
He was ardent—but she also knew he was a man of practicalities.And, after all, it wasn’t as if it was the day they had been married.It was silly of her.
“Is there some particular reason you remark on the day, my darling?”
“Oh no,” she said, blushing and looking back to her novel.
“Are you certain?It is unusual of you to ask such a question, especially so late in the day.In fact, I think of you as the type of woman who always knows the day.”
It was possible, she thought, for a husband to betooattentive.“And yet I am a mere mortal, like any other.”
“I am not at all sure of that.”
She was still looking at her book, even though she knew he was teasing her.“Well, I can assure you I am.”Indeed, she thought, because only a mortal would feel this childishly hurt over nothing.
“Is it perhaps because today is the day we met one year ago?”
She looked up at him, her mouth parting in surprise.Her cheeks flamed.“You scoundrel!”
He laughed.“You do not think I was really capable of forgetting, did you?”
“You said nothing!”
“Ah, well, perhaps you aren’t the only one who fears looking foolish.”
“You do not have to fear looking foolish with me.”
“I say the same to you.”
They were smiling at each other now.It was always this way with them.Sometimes, they could both be a little bashful.She had learned how similar they really were.But they always teased candor out of each other.As they had when they had first met.
Then, to her surprise, he reached over to the nightstand and opened its drawer.When he turned back toward her, he presented her with a small box.
“I told myself that if you didn’t remember, I would give it to you as another anniversary gift.”
Her eyes filled with tears.
