Page 98 of The Scarred Duke's Bride
He laughed, shaking his head. “You are incorrigible, my dear.”
She leaned in to kiss his cheek. “But you love me anyway.”
He stopped laughing, and his panting finally slowed down. “Yes,” he said quietly, “I do.”
Epilogue
Much as she tried not to complain, it was obvious that having to stay put was taking its toll on Freya. There were only so many books she could read, especially since her focus was shot. Her rose garden certainly gave her some peace and quiet, but without free movement, it became just another prison.
Eric walked into the drawing room where Freya was lounging on the chaise and sighing with boredom. “Quarter Day is coming up, and I was thinking that as a celebration we might hold a gathering. Isabella and William have been undertaking some theatre studies, and I thought perhaps they could put up a production of Dracula,” he suggested, “so that you might finally find out the end to that story.”
Freya snorted, “And they have agreed to this foolery?”
“They are very enthusiastic. They are talking about involving the entire village. I thought you might invite a noble or two from neighboring counties as well as any friends that you might want to come. From London perhaps?”
Freya’s brow furrowed as she thought about it. She shook her head, sliding him aside long glance. “I do not want to cause you any discomfort.”
He frowned in puzzlement. “What do you mean by that?”
She looked away staring outside the window. “Last time that we were in company, we did not fare very well. There is no guarantee that people will behave better this time around.”
The frown slowly cleared from his brow as he realized what she was asking, and he walked slowly to sit by her side and took her hand in his, playing with her fingers as he examined her hand closely, avoiding her eye. “I almost lost you because of my self-absorption. I told you before, I'm not making that mistake again. They can mock me as much as they like; I am a happy man whose only goal is to make his wife happy.”
She considered him closely for several minutes before the smile bloomed on her face. “In that case, I would love it if we were to host a theater night. Please invite your friends from the Navy, and I shall write to my mother’s cousins. They live in Mayberry, and my father cut off all contact with them after she died. I miss them and would like to see them.”
He spread his hands out. “By all means, write to all your mother’s relatives. Let them all converge here. I am sure it will do your heart good. The only thing I ask is that you allow for any festivities to take place around you without you moving too much.”
She leaned in and planted a kiss on his lips, a wide smile on her face. “I promise.”
Eric’s heart was glad to see the excitement back in her eyes, and he hastened to begin making arrangements. He called Isabella and William to his study. They came in looking confused, never having been summoned before.
He gestured to the chairs on the other side of his desk. “Take a seat please.”
They both sat, their faces somber and filled with trepidation.
“What’s wrong?” Isabella asked straight away. “Is it Freya?”
Eric shook his head. “Nothing is wrong. Well… nothing else. I’m sure you both noticed how listless Freya has been lately. I have had an idea to brighten her mood, and she is very enthusiastic about it. I proposed that we put on a play— Dracula, in fact.”
Isabella giggled, and Eric nodded to her in acknowledgment. “Yes, I thought it was amusing as well. Now, I know you have been studying theatre with Mrs. Beecham, going so far as to attend the Chapel plays, so I feel confident in asking you both to take charge of producing this play.”
There was an immediate eruption of excited noise, both Isabella and William talking over each other as they discussed the details of how they could bring this about. Eric held up his hand in an effort to forestall their enthusiastic suggestions. “I shall leave the details up to you. All I ask is that you make it as entertaining as you possibly can. Make Freya happy.”
William shot to his feet and made a salute. “Aye, sir. We shall not let you down," he said in all seriousness before grabbing Isabella’s hand and dragging her out of the room, pontificating loudly about all the things that they had to do.
Eric blew out a breath. “You didn't even wait for me to tell you the date of the performance,” he said to the empty room and then shrugged. There would be plenty of opportunity to inform them of the date. At the moment, he had a lot of letters to write.
* * *
Freya could not help but be infected by the excitement of preparing for the performance. Isabella and William would not tell her much about what they were up to, but Mrs. Beecham was happy to sit with her as they planned menus, sleeping arrangements, transportation, decoration, and the many other things that went into planning such a party.
She did not have any time to get bored. Her opinions were constantly being sought on every aspect of the preparations aside from the performance. Eric was building a dais in the garden in conjunction with the village carpenter and various volunteers. Freya could see them hard at work from her vantage point in the drawing room which had vast French windows that opened into the rear garden. She had taken to napping by the window, the soothing voices of shouting men lulling her into somnolence.
She had a soft warm feeling of happiness at the thought of how much effort the entire household was going to simply for her entertainment. Her body had felt increasingly weak and listless, and the coming party was exactly the shot in the arm she needed to rally. She marveled at how Eric could possibly have known the panacea for her struggles.
“You are smiling in your sleep.”
She opened her eyes to see Isabella grinning down at her. “Am I?”
