LITMIR.BIZ

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in appreciation.

      ‘I shall make time to have lunch with you more often—’ he grinned ‘—if you will promise to come to table dressed like that!’

      Chapter Nine

      After he left, Midge got properly dressed, then went to her writing desk, which Cobbett had placed under the window in the green sitting room. But after trimming her pen and smothering a series of yawns, she had to accept she was in no state to write anything sensible.

      And, though it went against the grain to lie down in broad daylight, Midge was too tired to do anything else.

      It had been worth it, though, she thought drowsily, toeing off her shoes and tugging back the coverlet. That conversation had made her feel much closer to Monty than ever before. She hoped they would have more conversations of the same sort, even if she did end up like this.

      Though it was not the talking that had worn her out, but what came after, she smiled sleepily to herself.

      She was just nodding off, when the term ‘criminal conversation’ popped into her head, and her whole body jerked awake. That was a term used to describe having an adulterous affair. The kind which were probably carried out in snatched moments during the daytime. Like the affair her mother had with the Earl of Leybourne when things with her father went sour.

      She came wide-awake. The earl must have made Amanda feel like this, ready to cast her modesty aside, and roll about the floor on a heap of wet towels, in broad daylight. Did she have the potential to behave even more scandalously than her mother? For at least her mother had believed she was in love with the Earl of Leybourne when she had taken him to her bed. And love had no part in the marriage she had entered into with Monty.

      But then, what sort of woman enjoyed marital relations so much, without being in love with her husband?

      She went hot all over, until she remembered that since she had taken a vow to obey him, it was positively her duty to let Monty have his way with her, whenever and wherever he wanted.

      She had no call to feel guilty!

      She told herself that, time and time again over the next week or so. Whenever Monty initiated snatched ‘conversations’ during the daytime, which he did with increasing frequency. He tried to come back from wherever he had been to have ‘lunch’ with her almost every day. And once, when he had spent the morning in the estate manager’s office, he had watched out for her returning from her ride, and totally shocked her by tugging her into an empty stall and ‘conversing’ with her swiftly in the hay.

      And the worst of it was, it never occurred to her to refuse his advances. The moment he came striding towards her, that purposeful gleam in his eyes, her entire body melted into a pool of lust.

      The passion that flared between them would have been easier for her to accept, if she could believe that they were growing closer in other ways. But Monty paid her so little attention, she could not help feeling a bit used. Oh, she knew he was busy during the daytime. But why was he so averse to spending a whole night in her bed?

      She began to take a nap in the afternoons, so that she could stay awake after they had made love and prolong the time she could spend in his arms. Because she knew that the moment she fell asleep, he would leave her bed. At least he waited until she had fallen asleep before leaving, so that his departure was not like a slap in the face. But no matter how hard she fought to keep her eyes open, she would invariably fall asleep before he did. And he was never there when she woke in the morning.

      But if, she reasoned, she could manage to stay awake after they had made love, she could at least coax him into having the kind of conversation which engaged their minds, as well as their bodies.

      At first, they only talked about trivial things. But then one day in March, news reached England that Bonaparte had escaped his island prison and was advancing on Paris, recruiting support along the way. Both of them began to search the newspapers daily after that, avidly following his progress.

      Midge’s concern was all for how Bonaparte’s return would affect Rick, until Monty, who had lived and breathed the war with France for all his adult life, gave her a broader perspective on the situation. Before long she was entirely in accord with his view that there was no point in trying to negotiate a peace treaty with the upstart Corsican.

      ‘The Prussians have got the right idea. Declare war on him now and stop him before he regains too much power,’ he told her one night on the way back up to their rooms after dinner.

      ‘I wish it were possible for me to leave Shevington and…oh, I don’t know,’ he said moodily, opening the door for her. ‘I know I cannot rejoin my regiment, but if I went up to town, there might be some way I could be of use…’

      ‘Well, why don’t you go?’ she asked tentatively, kneeling down next to him as he crouched down on the hearthrug. Cook had developed some mysterious means of knowing how much she ate at dinner, and would send up a supper tray if she deemed it had been insufficient. Tonight, it contained crumpets for them to toast over the fire.

      ‘What about you?’ he asked, spearing one of the crumpets on a toasting fork. ‘I would not be able to spend much time with you.’

      Midge bit back on the retort that she hardly saw him as it was. There always seemed to be somewhere more important for him to be.

      Unless she was on her back, with her legs open.

      She bit down on her the surge of resentment, recalling the advice her aunt had begun to slip into her letters lately. She knew she had been more than a little indiscreet, but when she sat at her desk, in that empty room in the afternoons, the temptation to pour her heart out quite often overwhelmed her. And her aunt’s responses clearly came from years of learning to cope in a marriage that was far from perfect. Only the day before, Lady Callandar had reminded her that it was essential to guard her heart. That it would be a grave error to think that the level of intimacy a man instigated in the early days of marriage was an indication he might be falling in love with her. No, she sighed, she ought to be grateful that Monty was taking great care, by distancing himself physically the moment he had got what he wanted from her, not to mislead her into thinking that!

      She had also added, ‘Persons of quality have the luxury of enjoying privacy, not granted to the lower orders. Very few husbands and wives would share a room, let alone a bed, were they given a choice.’

      It had been a shock to realize just how much information she must have relayed to her aunt. Although she was glad she had let slip that she was concerned about the ramifications of their sleeping arrangements. Because her aunt’s reply had certainly made her look at that particular issue in another light. The fact that Hugh and Amanda had shared a bed certainly had more to do with lack of space at the Brambles than any desire they might have felt for each other. Her three stepbrothers had all had to share a room, and she had been tucked away in a tiny space under the eaves. And Amanda had been so scared by the Gypsy’s curse that she would never have consented to remarrying if there had been any risk of getting pregnant again, only to see her baby die.

      She pulled herself back to the present with an effort, smiled brightly and said, ‘I could visit my aunt.’ She had no other female relative in whom to confide, and she was beginning to think there was much more she could learn from Lady Callandar, could she only discuss her concerns face to face. ‘We could do all that shopping you deprived her of before the wedding,’ she joked. And then added, more seriously, ‘Honestly, Monty, do you think I would expect you to dance attendance on me when the future of Europe is at stake?’

      He set the loaded toasting fork onto the tray, pulled her into his arms and hugged her tightly. ‘It is useless even talking about it,’ he breathed into her hair. ‘My duty lies here now.’

      Midge’s fleeting feelings of loneliness and resentment were swept aside by a surge of sympathy for him. He had done his duty all his life. But nothing he did ever seemed to satisfy his father.

      ‘I am not ready to give up yet.’ He smiled sadly. ‘The tenants, at least, are beginning to believe

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