worked my smock over my hip, his hand insistent and slightly moist upon my bare skin. “But tell me, Barbara. Where’s the sin in me desiring my beautiful wife?”
I sighed, not knowing how to explain my unhappiness. I’d try as many of the little tricks Philip had taught me to keep myself safe, but if Roger was determined to sire a child, then as my husband, he would have his way.
Yet still Roger sensed my resignation. “What is ill, Barbara?” he said, his reproach unmistakable even as he slipped his hand between my legs. “I know by nature you’ve a warm temperament. In London, you were always ardent for love.”
I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to will myself to keep still. I’d not lain with a man, Roger or Philip, since before I’d sickened with the smallpox, and no matter how miserable my heart might be or how artless Roger’s caress, I feared my body’s longing would betray me.
“In London I wasn’t buried among the rushes and the conies, the way I am here,” I whispered, my breath coming faster. “In London, I wasn’t fit to perish of boredom.”
“Then I must do my best to see that you are better entertained, dearest.” He rolled me onto my back and settled between my legs. It seemed he was done in less than a blink, long before he’d come near to fetching me in return. He did not seem to notice, either, kissing me afterward as if he were granting me the greatest gift imaginable, and not the other way round.
For a long time I lay in the dark and listened to Roger’s soft, satisfied huffs as he slept beside me. His seed still lay sticky upon me, yet my body and my heart together ached from unfulfillment.
I would not die of boredom at Dorney Court, no matter how much I longed to. Even I knew such a death was the purlieu of poets, not true life. But to expire from a lack of pleasure, from the joy to be found with love—now that, that seemed a hazard genuine enough.
Within the week, my life at Dorney Court did in fact become more interesting, though not in the way that Roger had meant.
I was coming back from my early walk through the gardens when I saw the carriage being led into the stable yard. I’d not heard we were expecting visitors—the house was still officially in mourning for Sir James—nor did I recognize the carriage. The horses looked weary from hard driving, as if they’d journeyed the night long on some urgent business. All the servants could tell me was that the newcomers were two gentlemen, friends of Mr. Palmer’s, and that the three of them were now closeted in the library, not to be disturbed.
By the time that Roger came upstairs to dress for dinner, I was in a froth of curiosity, demanding to know who these mysterious gentlemen could be.
“I’m surprised you haven’t guessed, Barbara.” He pulled a fresh shirt over his head, playing my suspense like a fisherman with his catch. “One gentleman should be well known to you by reputation, I believe. Sir Alan Broderick.”
“Sir Alan here!” I gasped with delighted surprise. Though I’d never met Sir Alan, I’d certainly heard enough of him from Roger. Sir Alan was the leader of the Sealed Knot, and was reputed to have been chosen by the king himself to further his cause in England. “Is the other gentleman party to the Knot as well?”
“He is,” Roger said, lifting his chin to tie the collar strings of his shirt in a tidy bow. “Lord Thomas Mulberry. It’s natural for Sir Alan to come to visit. He’s distant kin of yours, you know.”
“Everyone is distant kin to the Villiers,” I said, scarce able to contain my excitement. “That’s not why he’s here. Are you making fresh plans? Are you gathering forces to support the king’s return? Oh, Roger, tell me all!”
He smiled smugly, pleased he could make me beg for even something as petty as this. “In time, my dear, in time. Sir Alan and Lord Thomas will be with us for a few days. They find this house an agreeable refuge, considering the
I sighed, not knowing how to explain my unhappiness. I’d try as many of the little tricks Philip had taught me to keep myself safe, but if Roger was determined to sire a child, then as my husband, he would have his way.
Yet still Roger sensed my resignation. “What is ill, Barbara?” he said, his reproach unmistakable even as he slipped his hand between my legs. “I know by nature you’ve a warm temperament. In London, you were always ardent for love.”
I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to will myself to keep still. I’d not lain with a man, Roger or Philip, since before I’d sickened with the smallpox, and no matter how miserable my heart might be or how artless Roger’s caress, I feared my body’s longing would betray me.
“In London I wasn’t buried among the rushes and the conies, the way I am here,” I whispered, my breath coming faster. “In London, I wasn’t fit to perish of boredom.”
“Then I must do my best to see that you are better entertained, dearest.” He rolled me onto my back and settled between my legs. It seemed he was done in less than a blink, long before he’d come near to fetching me in return. He did not seem to notice, either, kissing me afterward as if he were granting me the greatest gift imaginable, and not the other way round.
For a long time I lay in the dark and listened to Roger’s soft, satisfied huffs as he slept beside me. His seed still lay sticky upon me, yet my body and my heart together ached from unfulfillment.
I would not die of boredom at Dorney Court, no matter how much I longed to. Even I knew such a death was the purlieu of poets, not true life. But to expire from a lack of pleasure, from the joy to be found with love—now that, that seemed a hazard genuine enough.
Within the week, my life at Dorney Court did in fact become more interesting, though not in the way that Roger had meant.
I was coming back from my early walk through the gardens when I saw the carriage being led into the stable yard. I’d not heard we were expecting visitors—the house was still officially in mourning for Sir James—nor did I recognize the carriage. The horses looked weary from hard driving, as if they’d journeyed the night long on some urgent business. All the servants could tell me was that the newcomers were two gentlemen, friends of Mr. Palmer’s, and that the three of them were now closeted in the library, not to be disturbed.
By the time that Roger came upstairs to dress for dinner, I was in a froth of curiosity, demanding to know who these mysterious gentlemen could be.
“I’m surprised you haven’t guessed, Barbara.” He pulled a fresh shirt over his head, playing my suspense like a fisherman with his catch. “One gentleman should be well known to you by reputation, I believe. Sir Alan Broderick.”
“Sir Alan here!” I gasped with delighted surprise. Though I’d never met Sir Alan, I’d certainly heard enough of him from Roger. Sir Alan was the leader of the Sealed Knot, and was reputed to have been chosen by the king himself to further his cause in England. “Is the other gentleman party to the Knot as well?”
“He is,” Roger said, lifting his chin to tie the collar strings of his shirt in a tidy bow. “Lord Thomas Mulberry. It’s natural for Sir Alan to come to visit. He’s distant kin of yours, you know.”
“Everyone is distant kin to the Villiers,” I said, scarce able to contain my excitement. “That’s not why he’s here. Are you making fresh plans? Are you gathering forces to support the king’s return? Oh, Roger, tell me all!”
He smiled smugly, pleased he could make me beg for even something as petty as this. “In time, my dear, in time. Sir Alan and Lord Thomas will be with us for a few days. They find this house an agreeable refuge, considering the
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