Marquesses at the Masquerade(79)
“I shall wear it for you whenever you like,” she said. “And I found your robe quite fetching. In fact, all of you is quite fetching. I can unabashedly say that now since we are married.”
His eyes turned earnest. “Are you happy you said yes?” he whispered.
She found she couldn’t answer. The tears threatened again. She could only nod and kiss his lips.
Chapter Twelve
* * *
Exmore needed to tell Annalise about Patrick’s return. They had promised to be honest with each other, and yet, he harbored this little deceit. For the life of him, he couldn’t comprehend the spell Patrick had over her. She possessed a nimble, curious mind and spirited personality. Although Patrick was intelligent enough, he didn’t share Annalise’s passion for learning. His mind was an uncluttered, unquestioning place dictated by the rules of Society. Her love for Patrick made no sense.
Exmore harbored the idea that if he took good enough care of Annalise, he could make her forget Patrick. This notion was irrational to his thinking mind, because he had given every last drop of his love to Cassandra, but it had never altered her heart. Annalise’s situation was different. Patrick didn’t love her. The love was all on her side, and it wasn’t a secret. Exmore had walked into this marriage with his eyes wide open to the situation.
Nonetheless, in his heart, he could feel the cold winds blowing Patrick’s sails back to England. What would happen when she saw him? He dreaded to learn. It was one thing to know she loved another man. It would be quite another to see that love shining in her eyes. So he remained silent, protecting his beautiful marriage to his dear friend for as long as he could.
Theirs was an easy union. There was an abundance to Annalise—she listened, she talked, she laughed, she embraced without reservation. His all-consuming love for Cassandra had drained his energies. He had always been concerned about what she was thinking, always trying to make her happy—something he now realized he could never have done. What Cassandra had taken, Annalise gave back tenfold.
He cherished how when he walked into a room to find her, a spontaneous smile curved her lips at his sight. When he sat beside her, she automatically reached out to touch him or kiss his cheek. She desired to know the trivial details of his life. She asked about his work in Parliament, the management of estates, even boring business details. At breakfast, they would often read the morning journals and discuss the same articles. He found he didn’t want to attend clubs anymore, because staying at home and conversing with his wife was far more enjoyable. And he liked being there to help her along in her new life.
The idea of overseeing the domestic details of multiple estates intimidated Annalise, even though she had managed her parents’ home for several years. Exmore did his best to allay her fears, always ready with an encouraging compliment or needed support. Because she was new to the household, she couldn’t readily see, as Exmore could, how the staff had fallen under her spell. She took sincere interest in the lives of their staff, inquiring about the health and family of even the lowest scullery maid. She, with the help of her loyal Mrs. Bailey, sought out little ways to improve the stations of their servants, including designating more living quarters, rationing more tea and candles, and having newer garments sewn.
Each day with Annalise carried that tingling excitement akin to children planning their day’s adventure. One or two times a week, Exmore and Annalise visited Kew Gardens or attended lectures together, where she would sit forward in her seat, mesmerized. He chuckled to himself that his wife was more entranced by comets or the chemical elements than how to fashion her bonnet. Later, they might wander to their favorite tea shop, where they stayed too long, lost in conversation, while secretly holding hands beneath the table. On days when they remained at home, one or all of Annalise’s cousins might call with her Aunt Sally. Although Annalise wouldn’t admit it, Exmore could see she was quietly exerting her own sway over her cousins, drawing them away from her uncle’s influence and expanding their education. Exmore, to his surprise, found he didn’t mind their boisterous presence. He enjoyed having a family about. An effervescent happiness filled his London house, which had been dormant with gloom for too long.
In the evenings, he and Annalise ventured to the parties, where they remained at each other’s side as they met other couples. But as the hours wore on, Annalise would give him a dusky, sensual look, and he would immediately call for the carriage to take them home. There, they would make love into the early hours. Then he would drift off to sleep with the comforting warmth of her body against his. In the morning, they would make love again.
One of the many things that endeared him to his new wife was her unabashed lusty nature. Often, an innocent little kiss in his parlor led to a frolic on his desk. He was making love more frequently than he ever had in his life. It was only a matter of time before Annalise began increasing. He couldn’t dispel the remaining fear from Cassandra’s sad pregnancy. It remained lodged inside him, even as he tried to reassure himself with what the physicians had told him. Cassandra’s condition had been a rare one, further compounded by an acute chill.
However, one early morning several weeks after their marriage, Exmore tried to push down the anxious thoughts of Annalise’s pending pregnancy and Patrick’s return as the fresh light fell softly on Annalise’s sleeping face. For the first time in a long, long while, he was happy.