illumination, struck him here. 'Did Edward...was
he able to consummate the marriage?'
She shook her head, hiding
her face.
'Are you still virgin?'
She heard the amazement in
his voice and was ashamed. 'Yes,' she whispered.
'Did he not try? Was it his
ill health that prevented him?'
'He tried!' The words now
poured out, as had the tears. 'Every night.' She shuddered with disgust and
fear as the memories rushed back. 'Again and again.'
'My poor child,' he
murmured.
'I am not a child!' Anger
and despair mingled in a deadly mix. 'He wanted an heir, he said. Before he
died. That was the only reason for our marriage...for his spending so much
money. He tried so often but he was unable... I could not bear it. I know that
marriage means obedience to one's husband...but I could not bear it. He was
so...' She could not find the words.
'I understand.'
'Do you? How could you?'
Now she found that she could not stop, even when she would have pressed her
fingers against her mouth to hold back the expression of her worst memories.
'He was so gross, so fat and unwashed. His body was covered with thick hair.
And...his hands were damp and...slimy, with blackened fingernails. And he
touched me...' She pressed her hand to her stomach to ward off the wave of
nausea. 'He prodded and groped, squeezing and pinching. I hated it. How could I
be expected to find any wifely pleasure in that? How could I ever accept such
indignities?'
'No.' He pressed his lips
together, fighting to contain the anger that built within him as he visualised
the picture which Honoria so clearly, so vividly painted, even though he
suspected that she had kept the worst from him. 'I don't suppose you could.'
'And he was unable. He
blamed me. He said that I was cold and unfeeling—a frigid wife—and I was. He
said that it was all my fault— that I had robbed him of his manhood and
deserved to be punished.' She shivered against him, but there was no longer the
threat of tears.
'Did he ever harm you?' He
deliberately kept his voice calm.
'No. He never struck me.
But with words, with the lash of those, he could destroy me. He said that he
had been tricked into the marriage—and that I was not woman enough to entice
him or pleasure him. I was a failure. I could not fulfil my part of the
marriage settlement.' She was quiet for a moment. Then, 'I must disgust you.'
'Honoria...' What on earth
were the right words to say to her? In the end he went for simplicity. 'My dear
girl, you could never disgust me. You were not a failure.' Now he understood
the whole tragic tale. A gross old man, intent on getting an heir on his new
wife in the short time left to him. Without sensitivity or finesse, rendered
impotent by illness and old age. He had put all the blame for his failure on
to her slight shoulders and she lacked the experience to determine the truth of
it. 'It was not your fault. And you have to realise that it does not have to be
like that between a man and a woman. There can be delight and warmth...and trust.'
'Trust? I find it
impossible to believe that. And as for delight...' She shuddered against him.
His lordship sighed. Now
was not the time to convince her otherwise. The emotional upheaval had taken
its toll and she leaned against him, her earlier fears forgotten, but yet drained
and exhausted.
'I am afraid of failing again.' And afraid that you will measure me unfavourably against Katherine.
Those few words that she
dared to utter spoke volumes. He held her close to rub his cheek against her
hair.
'You will not fail again. I
will show you,' he reassured her softly. 'But not now, not tonight. You need to
rest.'
Mansell stood and lifted
her, without protest, and carried her back to the high bed. There he settled
her under the covers and, before she could speak, stretched beside her, pulling
her firmly into his arms.
'Don't fight me again,' he
murmured as he felt her muscles tense once more.
'Would it not be better
to...to finish it quickly? I am sure that
he able to consummate the marriage?'
She shook her head, hiding
her face.
'Are you still virgin?'
She heard the amazement in
his voice and was ashamed. 'Yes,' she whispered.
'Did he not try? Was it his
ill health that prevented him?'
'He tried!' The words now
poured out, as had the tears. 'Every night.' She shuddered with disgust and
fear as the memories rushed back. 'Again and again.'
'My poor child,' he
murmured.
'I am not a child!' Anger
and despair mingled in a deadly mix. 'He wanted an heir, he said. Before he
died. That was the only reason for our marriage...for his spending so much
money. He tried so often but he was unable... I could not bear it. I know that
marriage means obedience to one's husband...but I could not bear it. He was
so...' She could not find the words.
'I understand.'
'Do you? How could you?'
Now she found that she could not stop, even when she would have pressed her
fingers against her mouth to hold back the expression of her worst memories.
'He was so gross, so fat and unwashed. His body was covered with thick hair.
And...his hands were damp and...slimy, with blackened fingernails. And he
touched me...' She pressed her hand to her stomach to ward off the wave of
nausea. 'He prodded and groped, squeezing and pinching. I hated it. How could I
be expected to find any wifely pleasure in that? How could I ever accept such
indignities?'
'No.' He pressed his lips
together, fighting to contain the anger that built within him as he visualised
the picture which Honoria so clearly, so vividly painted, even though he
suspected that she had kept the worst from him. 'I don't suppose you could.'
'And he was unable. He
blamed me. He said that I was cold and unfeeling—a frigid wife—and I was. He
said that it was all my fault— that I had robbed him of his manhood and
deserved to be punished.' She shivered against him, but there was no longer the
threat of tears.
'Did he ever harm you?' He
deliberately kept his voice calm.
'No. He never struck me.
But with words, with the lash of those, he could destroy me. He said that he
had been tricked into the marriage—and that I was not woman enough to entice
him or pleasure him. I was a failure. I could not fulfil my part of the
marriage settlement.' She was quiet for a moment. Then, 'I must disgust you.'
'Honoria...' What on earth
were the right words to say to her? In the end he went for simplicity. 'My dear
girl, you could never disgust me. You were not a failure.' Now he understood
the whole tragic tale. A gross old man, intent on getting an heir on his new
wife in the short time left to him. Without sensitivity or finesse, rendered
impotent by illness and old age. He had put all the blame for his failure on
to her slight shoulders and she lacked the experience to determine the truth of
it. 'It was not your fault. And you have to realise that it does not have to be
like that between a man and a woman. There can be delight and warmth...and trust.'
'Trust? I find it
impossible to believe that. And as for delight...' She shuddered against him.
His lordship sighed. Now
was not the time to convince her otherwise. The emotional upheaval had taken
its toll and she leaned against him, her earlier fears forgotten, but yet drained
and exhausted.
'I am afraid of failing again.' And afraid that you will measure me unfavourably against Katherine.
Those few words that she
dared to utter spoke volumes. He held her close to rub his cheek against her
hair.
'You will not fail again. I
will show you,' he reassured her softly. 'But not now, not tonight. You need to
rest.'
Mansell stood and lifted
her, without protest, and carried her back to the high bed. There he settled
her under the covers and, before she could speak, stretched beside her, pulling
her firmly into his arms.
'Don't fight me again,' he
murmured as he felt her muscles tense once more.
'Would it not be better
to...to finish it quickly? I am sure that
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