Where Dreams Begin(105)

“I was with companions, and—”

“Ladies,” he said savagely. “Armed with umbrellas, no doubt. Just what do you think they would have been able to do, had you met with bad company?”

“The few men we encountered in the neighborhood were harmless,” Holly argued. “In fact, it was the very same place you lived in during your childhood, and those men were no different from you—”

“In those days, I'd have played merry hell with you, if I'd managed to get my hands on you,” he said harshly. “Have no illusions, milady…you'd have ended face-to-the wall in Maidenhead Lane with your skirts around your waist. The only wonder is that you didn't meet that fate with some randy sailor yesterday.”

“You're exaggerating,” Holly said defensively, but that only roused his temper to a higher pitch.

He continued to blister her ears with a lecture that was furious and insulting by turns, naming the various diseases she could have contracted and the vermin she had likely encountered, until Holly couldn't bear another word.

“I've heard enough,” she cried hotly. “It's clear to me that I'm not to make a single decision without asking your permission first—I'm to be treated as a child, and you will act as a dictator.” The accusation was unfair, and she knew it, but she was too incensed to care.

Suddenly his fury seemed to evaporate, and he stared at her with an inscrutable gaze. A long moment passed before he spoke again. “You wouldn't have taken Rose to such a place, would you?”

“Of course not! But she is a little girl, and I'm—”

“My life,” he interrupted quietly. “You're my entire life. If anything ever happens to you, Holly, there is nothing left for me.”

Suddenly his words made her feel small and petty and, as he had accused, irresponsible. And yet her intentions had truly been good. On the other hand, she had known that visiting the factory had not been the wisest thing to do, or she wouldn't have tried to keep it secret from him. Swallowing back further arguments, she stared at a fixed point on the wall with an unhappy frown.

She heard Zachary swear beneath his breath, the ugliness of the word causing her to wince. “I won't say another word if you'll make me a promise.”

“Yes?” she said warily.

“From now on, don't go anywhere that you wouldn't feel perfectly safe taking Rose. Unless I'm with you.”

“I suppose that's not unreasonable,” she said grudgingly. “Very well, I promise.”

Zachary nodded shortly, his mouth set in a grim line. It occurred to Holly that this was the first time he had ever exerted his marital authority. Moreover, he had handled the situation far differently than George would have. George had set far greater limits for her, albeit in a gentler fashion. In the same circumstances, George would undoubtedly have asked her to leave the committee altogether. True ladies, he would have pointed out, did little more than carry baskets of jellies and soups to the poor, or perhaps contribute a bit of needlework to a bazaar. Zachary, for all his fire and thunder, actually asked very little of her in the way of wifely obedience. “I am sorry,” she brought herself to say stiffly. “I didn't mean to worry you.”

He accepted the apology with a single nod. “You didn't worry me,” he muttered. “When I realized what you'd done, it scared the living hell out of me.”

Although their quarrel was made up and the atmosphere became easier, Holly was aware of a certain constraint between them that lasted through dinner and afterward. For the first time in their marriage, Zachary did not come to her bed at night. She had a restless sleep, tossing and turning, waking frequently to realize that she was alone. In the morning she was frustrated and bleary-eyed, and to compound her discontent, she discovered that Zachary had already left the house for his offices in town. It was difficult to summon her usual vitality during the day, and the thought of food was singularly unappealing. After consulting a looking glass to view her own fatigued appearance, Holly groaned and wondered if Zachary had been right, that she might indeed have caught some sort of illness during her factory visit.

She napped late in the day, pulling the curtains closed in her room to block out all trace of light. After sinking into an exhausted slumber, she awoke to find Zachary's outline near her as he occupied a bedside chair.

“Wh-what time is it?” she asked groggily, struggling to rise to her elbows.

“Half-past seven.”

Realizing she had slept longer than she had intended, Holly made an apologetic sound. “Did I make everyone late for supper?…Oh, I must have—”

Zachary hushed her softly, moving over her, pressing her back to the pillows. “Megrims?” he murmured quietly.

She shook her head. “No, I was only tired. I didn't sleep well last night. I wanted you…that is…wanted your company…”

He laughed softly at her awkward admission. Straightening, he unbuttoned his waistcoat and dropped it to the floor, then tugged at his necktie. The low, vibrant sound of his voice in the darkness seemed to gather and tickle at the top of her spine. “We'll have supper sent up for you.” The white banner of his shirt fluttered from view as it, too, was cast to the floor. “In a little while,” he added, and shed the rest of his clothes to join her in bed.