sounded bewildered by that, by not knowing whether to be grateful or upset by the fading of memory.
“Forgetting can be a mercy,” Avis said, smoothing unguent over his palm. “Though you need somebody to scold you if this is how you treat yourself. I imagine Fenwick is in the same condition.”
“Probably not quite as bad. He had less to prove than I did.”
Avis spread salve over his knuckles. “You were being men.”
“Guilty as charged,” Hadrian said, sounding smug. “Though on that topic, I am particularly glad to see you.”
“Other hand,” Avis said, giving back the left and reaching for the right.
“I am glad to see you,” Hadrian said, his voice dropping into a register that had Avis’s insides fluttering happily again. “Because I wanted very much to be assured that my conduct in the garden did not, upon sober reflection, offend you.”
She went to work on his right hand, taking particular care, for he’d wrecked it thoroughly. “Offend me?”
“I took liberties, Avie.”
“Then I took them too,” she replied over the butterfly wings beating in her belly. “I threw myself at a sober, upright man, a man good enough for the church, one who couldn’t possibly withstand the wicked advances of a woman like me.”
“You’re so wicked.”
“Are you laughing at me?”
“I am laughing at your perceptions of our respective wickedness,” Hadrian said, his hand still curled in hers. “Do you know, Avis, I am on a first-name basis with at least three soiled doves in the city of York?”
“You’re a man.”
“A grown man, and you’re a grown woman. I kissed you, Avis. You didn’t jump out of the bushes, beat me over the head, and then have your wicked way with me as I lay half-insensate among the flowers.”
She liked that image, of having her wicked way with him among the bobbing tulips. Roses would be a bit tricky, but oh, the fragrance.
“It’s different for women. You didn’t get to know those ladies in York while Rue was alive.”
“I did not. Nor did I engage in any great, salacious adventure, Avis. It was simple pleasure, offered for simple coin. At university, I consumed such pleasure on at least four occasions that I can recall.”
How did he hold the two parts of himself, the human and saintly, in such easy balance? “We should not discuss this.”
“Shouldn’t a useless concept when we’re already discussing it. One of them was Mavis, another Elfrida, and the third—”
“So we’ll change the subject,” she suggested, but at some point, Hadrian had started rubbing his thumb over her palm, a slow, sweet slide made more sensuous by the salve and the fresh, grassy scent of comfrey.
He kissed her cheek, lingering for a moment, his nose near her temple. “There was only the one. I forget her name. I think she had red hair, or possibly a mousy brown. She called me Henry.”
Avis didn’t know whether to strike him or kiss him back. “Wretch. What was that kiss for?”
His smile was crooked when he drew away. “Courage, I suppose. I am glad to see you, Avie, and I’ll not be going back to York.”
He wasn’t ashamed of that trip to York, but it had proved whatever he’d needed it to prove.
Henry, indeed
.
“I’m glad you’ve heard from Harold,” she said, slipping her fingers from his. “I must leave you, though. I’ve an appointment with the mercer in the dower house, and Lily will be disappointed if I am late.”
“You’re truly set on removing from the manor proper?”
“It’s time,” she said, rising. Hadrian was on his feet as well, putting her hand on his arm as he escorted her to the door.
“Has somebody signed a writ of ejectment, that you must remove from the only home you’ve known?”
“Benjamin needs to take a bride,” Avis said. “His countess will have an easier time settling in if I’m not underfoot, ordering the servants about, reviewing menus, and getting in the way.”
“Oh, right. Leave the poor dear to
“Forgetting can be a mercy,” Avis said, smoothing unguent over his palm. “Though you need somebody to scold you if this is how you treat yourself. I imagine Fenwick is in the same condition.”
“Probably not quite as bad. He had less to prove than I did.”
Avis spread salve over his knuckles. “You were being men.”
“Guilty as charged,” Hadrian said, sounding smug. “Though on that topic, I am particularly glad to see you.”
“Other hand,” Avis said, giving back the left and reaching for the right.
“I am glad to see you,” Hadrian said, his voice dropping into a register that had Avis’s insides fluttering happily again. “Because I wanted very much to be assured that my conduct in the garden did not, upon sober reflection, offend you.”
She went to work on his right hand, taking particular care, for he’d wrecked it thoroughly. “Offend me?”
“I took liberties, Avie.”
“Then I took them too,” she replied over the butterfly wings beating in her belly. “I threw myself at a sober, upright man, a man good enough for the church, one who couldn’t possibly withstand the wicked advances of a woman like me.”
“You’re so wicked.”
“Are you laughing at me?”
“I am laughing at your perceptions of our respective wickedness,” Hadrian said, his hand still curled in hers. “Do you know, Avis, I am on a first-name basis with at least three soiled doves in the city of York?”
“You’re a man.”
“A grown man, and you’re a grown woman. I kissed you, Avis. You didn’t jump out of the bushes, beat me over the head, and then have your wicked way with me as I lay half-insensate among the flowers.”
She liked that image, of having her wicked way with him among the bobbing tulips. Roses would be a bit tricky, but oh, the fragrance.
“It’s different for women. You didn’t get to know those ladies in York while Rue was alive.”
“I did not. Nor did I engage in any great, salacious adventure, Avis. It was simple pleasure, offered for simple coin. At university, I consumed such pleasure on at least four occasions that I can recall.”
How did he hold the two parts of himself, the human and saintly, in such easy balance? “We should not discuss this.”
“Shouldn’t a useless concept when we’re already discussing it. One of them was Mavis, another Elfrida, and the third—”
“So we’ll change the subject,” she suggested, but at some point, Hadrian had started rubbing his thumb over her palm, a slow, sweet slide made more sensuous by the salve and the fresh, grassy scent of comfrey.
He kissed her cheek, lingering for a moment, his nose near her temple. “There was only the one. I forget her name. I think she had red hair, or possibly a mousy brown. She called me Henry.”
Avis didn’t know whether to strike him or kiss him back. “Wretch. What was that kiss for?”
His smile was crooked when he drew away. “Courage, I suppose. I am glad to see you, Avie, and I’ll not be going back to York.”
He wasn’t ashamed of that trip to York, but it had proved whatever he’d needed it to prove.
Henry, indeed
.
“I’m glad you’ve heard from Harold,” she said, slipping her fingers from his. “I must leave you, though. I’ve an appointment with the mercer in the dower house, and Lily will be disappointed if I am late.”
“You’re truly set on removing from the manor proper?”
“It’s time,” she said, rising. Hadrian was on his feet as well, putting her hand on his arm as he escorted her to the door.
“Has somebody signed a writ of ejectment, that you must remove from the only home you’ve known?”
“Benjamin needs to take a bride,” Avis said. “His countess will have an easier time settling in if I’m not underfoot, ordering the servants about, reviewing menus, and getting in the way.”
“Oh, right. Leave the poor dear to
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