Page 42 of A Deal with the Earl (Necessary Arrangements 1)

Mary just looked at her wide-eyed. Julie slowly placed one foot, then another, over the bath rim and sat gingerly inside.

“Mmm,” She made a sound of pleasure.

Robert closed his eyes in agony and shifted from one foot onto another. This was torture.

Mary took a tentative step closer to the bath and looked over the rim at her blissfully looking sister. Then, slowly, she stretched her hand toward Robert.

Robert smiled and helped her into the bath. Mary sat gingerly facing her sister, and Julie grinned, before splashing a few drops into Mary’s face. Mary squirmed at first and then giggled happily.

“Now you!” She looked at Robert and made Julie laugh.

“I am afraid the bath is too small,” Julie said with a smile and looked up at her husband. God, he loved her smile. When it was genuine, her smile lit up her whole face. He couldn’t help but look lower, to her exposed collarbone, her wet chemise billowing in the water, successfully concealing her wet, feminine form. He raised his gaze and saw his wife shyly looking back at him, her face rosy and wet. Robert’s breeches tightened uncomfortably.

“I’ll ask the maids to get you the towels,” Robert said in a hoarse voice before turning away and walking out of the room, the image of his wet wife forever etched to the backs of his eyelids.

* * *

Despite the traumatic experience of watching her little sister fall through the ice, this day had been one of the happiest in Julie’s life. After taking the hot bath and scrubbing Mary thoroughly, she braided her hair while exchanging meaningless gossip and chatter. She had dreamed of this ever since the day she woke up to find Mary gone.

She was fifteen at the time. Her mother’s funeral had been the day before, and Julie was in a wretched place. After witnessing the horror of her mother’s death, she’d been pale and weak and spent most of her time in her bedroom. She came out of her room only to get Mary, and they would spend the entire day burrowed in bed together, reading and talking. Mary was her only solace. She would then walk Mary back to her bed, return to her empty room and stare into the canopy of her bed until the early lights of morning, unable to sleep.

The morning after the funeral, as she shuffled into Mary’s room, she knew something was different the moment she put her hand on the door handle. She didn’t know how she knew. Maybe the smell had been distinct, or the light, perhaps even the air was thinner, signaling the ominous change in the room. The moment she opened the door, the feeling turned into certainty as she surveyed the empty chamber where her sister used to reside. The coverlet on the bed was different; the curtains were bright orange, not Mary’s favorite pink. There were no toys and books by the bedside. Julie stormed into the dressing room, but there was no clothing. It was empty. As if somebody had tried to erase every evidence of Mary’s essence. As if she had never existed.

Julie raged and screamed and yelled to no avail. Nobody answered her questions and pleas. Her father was nowhere to be found. Her mother was dead, and her sister was gone. She remembered crying herself to sleep every night, praying to be reunited with her little sister, whispering all the things they would do together once she had her back.

Now, sitting on the comfortable, warm bed, braiding Mary’s hair, she vowed she’d make up for all the lost days, weeks, and years without her sister. She took a deep breath and looked over Mary’s careful braid.

“All done.” She ran her hand over Mary’s head just to feel her warmth beneath her palm. She’d missed touching her sister. Mary nestled comfortably against her chest.

“Will you read me?” she asked in a sleepy voice.

Julie smiled against the top of her sister’s head, remembering all those nights she used to read to her before bed. “Of course, what would you like me to read?”

Mary shrugged, and Julie decided what she would read to her little sister. Her diary. That way, they could both relive their happy days, and perhaps Mary would remember more of the things from her past.

Julie walked over to her room, picked up her diary from her writing-table, and brought it with her to Mary’s room. She perched on the side of the bed and started reading to Mary from the beginning.

“I always considered my birthday the most important day in my life. My mother would order servants to make my favorite dish, I was allowed to stay up later with my mother as she read to me, to play longer than usual. But that day was relegated to the second place the moment my baby sister was born. I saw her wrinkly pink face, her tiny fists and heard her ugly wail, and I was instantly in love. She was mine.”

Julie looked up and saw Mary dozing off, the comforting sound of her sister’s voice lulling her to sleep. Julie wondered how Mary slept all those times in the asylum. She doubted anyone ever read to her there, and her heart clenched at the thought of her in that dirty, drafty place. She was here now. It was all that mattered.

Several minutes later, as Mary slept peacefully on the bed, Julie left her side and walked slowly to her bedroom. She dismissed Alice since she wore nothing more intricate than a nightgown and a robe after the bath. Julie brushed her hair and stared into the looking glass, carefully studying her own features. Her face was pale, framed neatly with her dark curly hair. She closed her eyes and swallowed before collecting her hair in a simple bun.

She was stalling. She’d decided last night that she would finally make steps toward honoring the bargain with her husband. The events of the day only strengthened her reserve. So, she secured her hair carefully with pins and walked toward the adjoining door to her husband’s bedroom. She took a deep breath and knocked lightly. There was no answer. After another shy knock, she entered the dark room. Her husband wasn’t there. She let out a breath she didn’t know she was holding. He wasn’t there. A reprieve. But the thought of waiting another night, of dreading it again, made her palms perspire. No, she’d do it tonight.

* * *

Robert sat at his impressive mahogany desk, twirling the quill in his fingers. He’d been sitting there, pretending to work for several hours now. Ever since he left his half-naked, wet wife in the bathtub. His cock twitched just thinking about it. Robert let out a pained groan. He closed his eyes and saw her happy, glowing smile as she sat in the bath, playfully enticing her sister to join her, completely unaware of the effect she was having on her husband.

It didn’t help that he had not had a sexual encounter since before his marriage. As the weeks passed, it was more and more difficult for him to keep himself in check. After tonight, he’d be unable to ever close his eyes without seeing her half-naked, drenched body.

His thoughts were interrupted by a knock on the door of his study.

“Yes?” he called without taking his gaze off the quill still clenched between his fingers. He looked up from the thoughts about his wife only to encounter her standing shyly at his doorstep.

“I hope I am not interrupting.” She smiled apologetically.

Only from the thoughts of you. “No, I was just,” Robert looked around at his forgotten papers on the desk, “finishing up.”

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