Page 20 of Secrets of the Marriage Bed
The coach dipped on it springs as Alistair entered. He removed his hat, set it on the seat in front of her and sat down at her side. ‘What on earth made you hire such a fussy woman?’ he asked once the footman had closed the door. ‘If I was Matthew, she’d be throttled by now.’
Julia pressed her lips together. She had no wish to get Mr. Lewis into trouble with his employer. ‘I will have a word with her when we reach Sackfield.’
He made a non-committal sound. ‘I hope we can make good time today.’
The coach jerked and moved off, its wheels grinding on the cobbles. Her husband put an arm across her front, steadying her, and then they swung out on to the toll road where the ride smoothed out. He stretched his longs legs out as far as he was able and stared out at the passing countryside.
Should she speak? Would he prefer silence? She glanced sideways at him, to discover him doing the same thing. She laughed.
He grinned.
And the awkwardness dissipated.
‘Since I gather you did not bring the promised book, please tell me about Sackfield,’ she said, broaching a topic that had been at the back of her mind for several days. She had hesitated to ask Mr Lewis in case he wondered why she hadn’t sought the information from her husband. ‘What should I expect? A castle? Something huge with hundreds of servants?’
‘Quite the opposite,’ he said. ‘It is small compared to the other properties held by the Duchy. A manor house. It came to the family in recognition of our loyalty to the Stuarts. Though I rather think my ancestors walked a fine line between pragmatics and ideology.’
Her own family had been staunch Protestants in Cromwell’s era, but it was not until later that they had been raised up to nobility for services to the crown. ‘Your family’s gain was another’s loss, I presume?’
‘In some respects. My ancestor was a political being. He married the daughter of the ousted baron to his eldest son, thus eliminating future friction.’
Another arranged marriage. ‘I wonder how they felt about it. The couple, I mean.’
He turned his face to look at her, his grey eyes speculative. ‘You sound sorry for them.’
Did she? Did he see it as a criticism of their circumstances? Certainly out of the two of them, her lot had improved dramatically, while his... She still wasn’t at all sure why he had offered marriage. Out of pity, she assumed, since their marriage was clearly pro forma. She certainly wasn’t going to spoil what seemed to be a growing rapprochement in their relationship by reminding him of his coldness. She might have made some mistakes in her life, but she was not a complete fool.
‘Simply curious.’
‘You are interested in history?’
‘In the history of your family, certainly, for it is now my family, too.’
‘So it is.’ There was a note of wonder in his voice, as if he hadn’t yet adjusted to the idea of a wife. ‘Sackfield is likely one of the places where you will learn a great deal about us, for it is the oldest of the Dunstan holdings.’
‘I am looking forward to seeing it.’ She leaned back against the squabs and watched the countryside drift by. She yawned.
‘Tired?’ She heard a frown in his voice and turned her head. He was watching her intently.
‘Your carriage is wonderfully sprung. The rocking...’ She lost the thread of her thought. ‘Soothing.’ She yawned again. What on earth was wrong with her? She never slept during the day.
‘What crops do you grow at Sackfield?’ Always ask a man about what concerns him most. With her first husband it had been his bargaining at the wool exchange. He had lectured her for hours on end about his dealings. And about her shortcomings.
‘Wheat,’ he said. ‘Barley. We rotate...’ His deep voice was sensual no matter what he was talking about...
‘You will end up on the floor if you are not careful,’ a voice muttered in her ear. A strong arm went around her shoulders. ‘Lean on me, if you must sleep.’
He did not sound pleased. Well, he wouldn’t. She was supposed to be keeping him company. She tried to force her eyelids open. But the harder she tried to stay awake, the heavier her eyelids felt. Along with a strange feeling that something was not quite right...
She felt something hard beneath her cheek. Her body rocking oddly. Oh, dear heaven, that was a heartbeat. She jerked away. Her heart racing. Her gaze trying to focus on the face of...
Alistair. Frowning. Deeply.
Not Algernon. Of course not. He had died. And he would never have permitted her to sleep on his shoulder. He’d have poked her awake with a bony finger. Or slapped her.
She pressed a hand to her rapidly beating heart. ‘I beg your pardon. I must have dozed off.’
He was eyeing her warily. ‘You did.’
