Where Dreams Begin(104)

He caught her mouth with his, kissing her deeply. “Just for that, I'm going to be especially wicked.” His lips roamed across her soft cheek and down to the edge of her jaw. “You'll have no gentleman in your bed tonight, milady.”

“In other words, a typical evening,” she mused, and gave a shriek of laughter as he suddenly tossed her over his shoulder and carried her up the stairs. “Zachary, put me down this very…oh, you barbarian, someone will see!” He carried her past a gaping housemaid, disregarding Holly's mortified pleas, and headed into his bedroom, where he proceeded to provoke and tease her for hours. He made her laugh, made her play and struggle and groan with pleasure. Afterward, when she was exhausted and sated, he made love to her with gentle tenderness, whispering to her in the darkness that he would love her for eternity. It humbled her to be loved so greatly, and she could not fathom why he thought her so special when she was so very ordinary. “There are very many women like me, you know,” she murmured as the morning approached, while she lay with her hair streaming across his neck and chest. “Women with my kind of upbringing, ones with older titles and nicer faces and figures.”

She felt him smile against her cheek. “What are you trying to say? That you'd rather I'd married someone else?”

“Of course not.” She tugged at a curl of his chest hair reprovingly. “It's just that I'm not the great prize you make me out to be. You could have gotten any woman that you had set your heart on.”

“In my entire life, there's only been you. You're every dream and wish and want I've ever had.” His hand played gently in her hair. “Mind you, I don't always like feeling this damn happy…It's a bit like king of the mountain.”

“Now that you've reached the top of the pile, you're afraid to be knocked off?” she asked perceptively.

“Something like that.”

Holly understood exactly how he felt. It was the very reason she had once refused to marry him, fearing the risk of losing something so precious, until the fear had stood squarely in the way of what she had most wanted. “Well, we won't like that way,” Holly murmured, kissing his bare shoulder. “We'll enjoy each moment to the fullest, and let the morrow take care of itself.”

Having taken an interest in one of the reform societies Zachary had donated to, Holly attended a meeting of the gentlewomen who had founded the group. As she learned more about the group, which was a children's aid society, she became enthusiastic about helping in ways other than merely donating money. The women in the society were busy organizing charity bazaars, lobbying for social legislation and founding new institutions to help care for the multitude of children who had been orphaned from recent epidemics of typhus and consumption. When it was decided to write a pamphlet describing the conditions of child labor in factories, Holly volunteered for a position on the committee. The next day, she and a half-dozen women went to visit a broom-making factory that had been deemed one of the worst offenders. Suspecting that Zachary would not approve of the factory visit, Holly decided not to mention it to him.

Although she had braced herself for an unpleasant sight, Holly found herself unprepared for the misery of the conditions at the factory. The place was filthy and poorly ventilated, with many children working who were clearly younger than the age of nine. Holly was moved to quiet anguish at the sight of the thin, wretched creatures with blank faces, their small hands moving in ceaseless tedious work, some of them missing fingers from accidents while using sharp knives to cut bundles of straw. They were orphans, one of the adult workers explained, gathered from orphanages and moved to a narrow, dark dormitory next to the factory. They worked fourteen hours a day, sometimes longer, and in return for their relentless labor, they were given a minimum of food and clothing, and a few pence a day.

Gravely the women of the children's aid committee remained at the factory and asked questions until their presence was discovered by a manager. They were quickly ushered from the premises, but at that point they had already learned what they needed to know. Saddened by what she had seen, but filled with resolution, Holly returned home and wrote the committee's report to be presented to the society at the next meeting.

“Tired from the meeting?” Zachary asked at supper that night, his perceptive gaze noting the signs of strain on her face.

Holly nodded, feeling more than a little guilt about not telling him where she had been that day. However, she was fairly certain of his displeasure should he find out, and she reasoned privately that there was no need to confess.

Unfortunately, Zachary did find out about the factory visit the following day, not from Holly but from one of his friends whose wife had also gone. Unfortunately, the friend had also related that the factory was in a particularly unsavory part of town, surrounded by streets with names like “Bitch Alley,” “Dead Man's Yard” and “Maidenhead Lane.”

Zachary's reaction astonished Holly. He cornered her the very moment he arrived home, and she realized with a sinking heart that he was not merely displeased. He was irate. He strove to keep his voice controlled, but it actually shook with fury as he forced words through his clenched teeth. “Dammit, Holly, I'd never have believed you'd do something so harebrained. Do you understand that the building could have collapsed around you and those henwits? I know what condition those places are in, and I wouldn't let a dog of mine venture past the threshold, much less my wife. And the men—good God, when I think of the low-living bastards who were in your vicinity, it makes my blood curdle! Sailors and drunkards on every corner—do you know what would happen if one of them took it into his head to snap up a little treat like you?” As the thought seemed to temporarily render him incapable of speech, Holly took the opportunity to defend herself.