Page 34 of His Bride

“Arthur, please!” She insists on using my first name even though I commanded her not to.

I wave a hand, and she is dragged away in dramatic hysterics.

I am left wondering why any person in New Boston would be so foolish as to consider one of my threats idle. My reputation usually precedes me. Then again, some are so arrogant as to consider themselves above the law.

Mila

I woke to yelling and screaming. I tiptoed around the house, until I found the little stairway that goes up to the portrait in Arthur’s office. I have just watched him have Emmaline Carpenter taken away by soldiers. If his threat is to be carried out—and I have no doubt it will be—she has just lost everything for giving me that dose of Soma.

Arthur has had one person killed for disrespecting me, and sent another to the colonies for trying to corrupt me. It is obvious that he is protective to an extreme degree. Anybody who harms me in any way will suffer, that’s the message.

I can only imagine what he will do to me for having partaken in the drug he so loathes. A tremor enters my hands. I feel quite ill, actually.

“Lydia!” I hear him call the guard. She steps into his office. I feel a pang of something. Not quite jealousy. Or maybe it is jealousy, but not of the romantic kind. I am jealous of the way he trusts her, and how much faith he puts in her. She is older than I am, and has clearly proven herself in battle. Whereas I have done nothing but make a repeated fool of myself. I must start to earn his respect.

“You called?”

“Yes, please wake Mila. It’s late and she should have breakfasted by now. The last thing I want is for her to become one of these indolent ladies who indulges in parties all evening and sleeps all day.”

I do not like hearing that, either. He is sending Lydia to me as if she is my nursemaid. I watch her go, feeling very cross indeed—all the way up until I realize that I won’t be in bed when she goes to get me, because I’m here. She’s going to tell him that I’m missing.

“She’s missing from the bed, sir.”

“What?” Arthur rises from behind his desk. I can imagine how furious he will be. He’s already in a bad mood, and I don’t want to get deported.

“I’m not missing! I’m here!”

I try to open the portrait, but the latch is sticky and in the dark I’m still not entirely sure how it works. The culmination of all these factors is that I once again end up tumbling into Arthur’s office, head over heels in the nightgown he must have put on me last night. An abundance of sheer lace does not make this any less of an embarrassing moment as I find myself at the feet of my husband and my bodyguard. It is quite the contest as to which one of them looks more annoyed.

Arthur scoops me up and stands me on my feet. “What are you doing, Mila?”

“I heard Emmaline, and I wanted to know what was happening, so I sneaked up here.”

“At least you are honest,” he sighs. “But you cannot keep sneaking up to hide and watch the goings-on in my office.”

“I’m sorry,” I say, not making the mistake Emmaline did. Arthur wants submission, and I am happy to give him that. At least, as much as I can. I keep making mistakes, but I want him to know I’m not going out of my way to be bad.

“Never mind,” he says, showing me a forgiveness he has certainly not extended to others. There is warmth in his tone that makes me think maybe I am at least a little special to him. I am sure that if anybody else spied on him he would be beyond furious.

A glance in Lydia’s direction confirms that. I see the same thing in her eyes that I recently felt. Jealousy. She is jealous of me because I am adored by him. I do not think she has romantic designs on my husband, but I think she wants to be special to him. Arthur has that kind of charisma to him. He is a natural leader. I am very lucky to be his wife.

“How are you feeling?” He asks me the question kindly.

“Good,” I lie. I feel heavy. My limbs seem to be weighted. My thoughts feel like they are coming at half the speed they usually would. I wonder if I am feeling worse than usual, or if this is just what it feels like when I don’t take Soma.

I know what would tell me which of those things is true. Just a tiny little pinch of Soma.

“Coffee?”

He takes me by the hand and leads me to the dining room. It is a very formal place, but that suits him, and I suppose it suits me. My mother and father sit at opposite ends of the long tableat home. Sometimes, when they are silly, they throw ornate teaspoons at one another. I can’t imagine doing that to Arthur. Well, I can. But I can imagine what would happen afterward too. I would be very sore and sorry.

Arthur does not sit at the opposite end of the table. He sits at the head, and I sit next to him on his right-hand side. The servants set the table smoothly, bringing us everything we need. I am quite lucky, really. I imagine what it would be for all of this to go away. What if what happened to Emmaline today happened to me tomorrow? What if I was sent to the far-off dusty colonies to serve miners?

I don’t think he would do that to me. Would he? No. I’m his bride, and I’m going to be the mother to his babies.

Arthur looks extraordinarily handsome today. His strong jaw, scarred face, and powerful gaze are all very appealing to me. He is a picture of strength and stability, and I know that if I was to say so much as a word about Soma, he would deeply disapprove.

He pours me a cup of coffee and I sip it. It is bitter, but it does make me feel slightly better. My mind clears a little. I notice that Lydia is now in the room. She must have come in with the flurry of servants. She is standing with her back to the wall somewhere behind me. I catch her out of the corner of my eye when I turn my head. She almost blends into the decor in that uniform, but I can feel her judgmental gaze on me.

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