Page 52 of Sacrificing the Untamed Lady Henrietta
Ghosts of her past?
Just then, Mrs. Oliver entered the room. The scowl on her lovely countenance remained from the other day. Indeed, it had become most engrained. In an amount of time he could measure in hours, his normally warm and winsome wife been made over into a lady he hardly knew. A cold and bitter lady.
The General’s frown deepened, feeling all the weight of blame. He must have owned his part in everyone’s unhappiness. Owning it was the first step. Attempting to fix it was the next.
“Tabitha, my dear, we leave again on the morrow. Please make ready to depart again.”
“Depart? For where, Sir? We have only just returned from Peterborough.”
“And we will revisit that northerly region.”
“And why, Sir?” Tabitha said contentiously. “For what purpose?”
“Henrietta may be in danger. We must go Scarborough and ensure that she remains safe.”
The harsh, unforgiving features of his wife’s stoic face looked to soften. She asked no more questions, and she did not smile, but neither did she argue with him. It was a start.
Chapter 21
It was past midnight and the Marquess’ room had been dark for over an hour. The connecting door was again open, and Henrietta didn’t mind in the least. In fact, it appeared that she preferred it that way.
Anna had put her to bed, but not without her lamp and her new library book. The medical journal was amazing, reporting on everything from aneurisms of carotid arteries to treating whooping cough to the effects of excessive laudanum use. There was even an article on a peculiar disease of the heart. She felt herself most surely in heaven.
Even more amazing, however, she had to admit, was that she owed this delicious pleasure to none other than her husband — the man she had decided just five days ago would never be forgiven for so injuring her pride on their wedding day. Though he had been the one to say it aloud, truth be told, she had cried ‘insult to injury’ as well. She had just kept it harbored within. Now, it seemed like the insult had been forgiven and the injury nearly well healed. Maybe for them both? She smiled at the thought.
Still, Henrietta was not yet prepared to trust him fully with her dreams. It was one thing to aid and abet her secret sin of reading boring and technical science journals. It was quite another to support her plans for medical school and give his blessing to such a pursuit.
She could not blame him. It was, after all, not his fault society dictated that she could not be so smart or even remotely accomplished in the realm of science and medicine. That was the world of professional men, and they did not like to share their space. That said, it did bode well in her mind that he would not only approve her quest for knowledge but encourage it by visiting the library on her behalf and securing the book for her. It gave her hope that on this level at least, she could pursue her dream. It was a start.
A stirring in the adjoining room pulled her from her thoughts. She looked up to see the Marquess stepping into her room. She took in a quick breath, for he looked much like he had on their wedding night, starchy shirt opened and loosened from his breeches, feet without boots or stockings. His hair was mussed as if he had been attempting sleep. Perhaps tossing and turning?
In her nightgown, she was improperly dressed for visiting, but she supposed since the visitor was technically her husband, it was allowable. She set the book aside and pulled the coverlet up near her neck.
There was a small settee at the foot of her bed, which he commandeered for his use. She watched with wide eyes as he rearranged the furniture, dragging the settee over to the hearth where the embers of Anna’s small fire still smoldered. The Marquess was too tall to lay upon the settee comfortably, but he didn’t seem to mind overmuch. With a pillow beneath his head, he stretched out, not bothered that his feet were hanging off the other end.
“I cannot sleep,” he announced once he was settled.
“I see.”
“And as your lamp was still lit, I thought I might see what you were up to. Maybe a few words like medico-chirurgical would invoke the elusive gods of slumber.”
“That is a sound plan, my Lord.”
“What great learning do you encounter in your new book?”
She cleared her throat and attempted to sound very learned indeed. “This article, my Lord, is of most importance in the world of medicine. It is calledA Case of Violent and Obstinate Cough, Cured by A Preparation of Iron.”
“Hmmmm,” he mused whimsically. “The gods have heard. I feel sleepy already.”
She giggled. “Oh, I could read to you fromOn Gouty Concretions of Chalk Stones.”
“Oh yes, gout. Please do.”
“Or,A Case of Exposure to the Vapour of Burning Charcoal.”
“Fascinating,” he replied dryly. His eyes were closed, and even in the dim light she knew his expression was hinting at a smile.
“My Lord Marquess, who do think is responsible for the edifice falling from the roof of the theater?”
