Chapter 22
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
That evening, staff welcomed Elizabeth to the dinner table and disregarded their master with blatant disrespect. Elizabeth, too, ignored her husband’s presence, though he appeared to suffer the lack of conversation with surprising tolerance.
Afterward, she checked on her new bookshelves’ progress, pleased to find her bedroom walls cleared and skeletal outlines already erected. She decided a hot toddy and book in bed were just what she needed to ease her overactive mind—along with a bit more salve to her bottom.
Miss Li’s revelations had affected her more than she liked.
She was just settling in, backside nestled on an extra down pillow, when Ginny entered with the toddy.
“Milady.”
“Ginny, you may as well call me Lizzie when everyone calls the Baron by his first name.”
“Well sure, ma’am, but that’s on account o’ how you’re an honest-to-God lady an’ Jasp’s just a—”
“Whoreson?” Elizabeth’s wry tongue twitched. “Degenerate? Profligate? Pigsnout, perhaps?”
Ginny giggled. “Pigsnout, fer sure.”
“Making me Mrs. Pigsnout.” Elizabeth sighed. “I’d prefer you simply call me Lizzie.”
“Right-o, Lizzie.” Ginny grinned. “Though you’ll ’ave trouble convincin’ Gerald an’ Murdoch t’ call yer such.”
“You must make them see reason.” Elizabeth forced a smile. “And as I need no assistance tonight with my—”
“Ma’am.” Ginny’s face fell. “I’m afraid yer husband requests yer presence in his chamber this night.”
Dread filled Elizabeth’s limbs, though she straightened her spine. “Thank you, Ginny. I shall prepare myself.”
Milton paced his study, debating what to say to his wife.
He’d told Ginny to prepare her mistress for a visit to his bedroom, but he wasn’t sure what sort of visit this ought to be.
He swallowed his apprehension, for it was all too blasted complicated, and not at all how he’d envisioned marriage to be: a straightforward trade.
He’d keep his wife in finery, she’d give him heirs.
They’d both enjoy the bedchamber, and when they tired of one another, each might take a lover. Isn’t that what men of the Ton did?
When he’d paced enough and imagined her prepared enough, he made his way to his chamber. He rapped twice, calling “Elizabeth?” before he heard her soft “yes.”
The jolt to his loins the moment he entered was intense.
She was the picture of submission in naught but her stockings, their dark blue accentuating the paleness of her skin. Palms to floor and breasts thrust forward, her chin was bent in deference, just as he had taught her.
He walked a circle to survey the damage he’d done, appalled at the marks yet on her backside which were now a cluster of bruised hues.
Shame washed over his soul as he reached inside his pocket and laid the diamonds he had bought that day about her slender neck.
“I am sorry I hurt you, Elizabeth. I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me.” He clasped the brilliant stones at her nape, yet she remained in position, unresponsive.
“Lizzie…” He let one finger trail the slope of her shoulder and felt her shudder to his touch. “Say something,” he added. “Please.”
“I do not require gifts to do my duty by you, sir.” She kept her head bent. “Take me to bed and do what you must.”
Hurt surged in his breast.
“I am prepared to give you an heir. I ask only that you be quick about it.”
Her words roused his ire, but the punishment was just. With a quick scoop he lifted her onto his bed and laid her on her belly to spare her more pain, then began to kiss her marred buttocks with reverence.
Still, she did not react.
Milton slid his hand between her legs but found her unresponsive. He tried to coax her into pleasure, but she neither moaned nor sighed to his softest touch. She did not so much as twitch, a stone beneath him. Lifeless.
In frustration he pulled her to her knees, on all fours now, but she was so terribly, terribly cold, he found no spark, no heat. And only monsters forced themselves on women.
Milton pulled away, appalled and enraged. He’d never raped a woman and he would not start now. Elizabeth was his wife and legally this was his right, but the act felt suddenly wrong. Criminal.
“Go to your room.” His heart beat madly in his chest. “Get out. Now!”
Elizabeth threw her robe about her and exited so fast she nearly tripped.
Milton wanted to punch something, needed to punch something, because he was not some beast who would force his wife to beget himself heirs. Is that what she’d now make him do? Was that what she wished to turn him into?
By God, this was not how he’d dreamed of starting a family!
He raked his hair with both hands, fingers digging into his skull. She was punishing them both, denying him enjoyment but denying herself pleasure too, for he knew full well she’d enjoyed him before.
A cold and nasty thought slithered into Milton’s pounding head, for he’d taken her against her will before. He’d been precisely such a beast when he’d struck her with his ruler.
He dropped to his knees in an avalanche of self-loathing, guilt roiling his gut and falling like lead upon his shoulders. Elizabeth hated him enough to forgo her own pleasure, her own happiness, just to punish him. That was how much he’d hurt her.
He knew the impulse intimately. How oft had he been willing to inflict pain and misery on himself to enact revenge upon his tormentor, to punish the devil in return? And now he’d done the same to this beautiful, bright creature. This innocent young woman.
He’d done his wife a terrible wrong.
But how in God’s name did one right such a wrong? How to prove one was willing to do and be better? He couldn’t go crawling on all fours, begging like a wolfhound.
Or could he?
By morning, a chocolate croissant rested on Elizabeth’s breakfast tray, a fresh vase of flowers perfuming her bedside. The Baron’s servants were wonderful, even if he was not.
Still, her husband could have taken her last night, as was his right, yet he hadn’t.
He’d seemed unduly angry when he’d sent her away, for wounded pride or wounded ego, she wasn’t sure.
But those awful diamonds he’d given her—such glittering, hard stones, so cold and bright—had felt more like a yoke about her neck than an attempt at true apology.
She’d stuffed them in the box with his other necklace, though she didn’t know what stones those were.
Lapis lazuli, perhaps, given their mottled blue.
She knew little about gemstones, having been forced early on to pawn all her mother and stepmother owned.
She was herself not much for ornament either; her spectacles drew the eye no matter what dangled at her breast.
No wonder Milton wished to outfit her with jewels that sparkled, since she did not.
Elizabeth brushed tears from her eyes, realizing, oddly, that she wept.
She was twenty-four today. Such a solid number, really.
Was her life truly already over before it had even begun?
Was a bedroom lined with books all she could look forward to while she birthed this man his heirs?
Yesterday she’d felt more hopeful, but this day dawned fresh with despair.
Until Bella arrived, that is.
“Well go on, open it!” Annabelle sat on the edge of her seat, Elizabeth’s snail-like approach to unwrapping gifts annoying her sister to no end. She cruelly unspooled ribbons an inch at a time, whereas Bella tore into all packages with gusto.
“Oh, you torture me on purpose!”
“Why, sister,” Elizabeth teased, “I do no such thing.” She dropped the ribbon and made an elaborate show of retrieving it from the floor only to smooth it flat so she might slowly roll it into a—
“Lizzie,” Bella groaned. “Open it!”
With one quick tear she put Annabelle out of her misery, then hugged the slim volume tightly to her chest. “Bella, it is perfect! How did you know I’ve been looking for just this book?”
“You’ve only mentioned it a dozen times this past year.” Annabelle rolled her eyes. “Now, at least, I can stop listening to you go on about how you’ve read all her novels but this one.”
Elizabeth grabbed her sister’s hand and squeezed. “Thank you, dear. You’ve made my birthday joyous, after all. I cannot wait to start Miss Austen’s Persuasion.”
“I am certain the Baron will surprise you with a far better gift.” Annabelle’s eyes lit with anticipation. “Why, just imagine what his wealth might—”
Sorrow overwhelmed Elizabeth.
“Lizzie…”
“Don’t.” She turned away; Elizabeth did not want her sister to read her thoughts. “I do not wish to speak of him. Another time, I promise.” She simply wished to enjoy Annabelle’s visit. “Now tell me news of you, and of Papa. Has he—?”
“Run through the Baron’s money yet?” Annabelle’s sigh was sufficient answer. “Not quite, but he will, and Lizzie, I must ask you…” It was Bella’s turn to look pained. “I’m afraid I—”
“How much do you need?” Some good ought to come of her union to a scoundrel.
“More than you’d expect. There is a matter that’s come up, you see, which—”
“Say no more, Bella. You need never explain, as I can well imagine.” Elizabeth paused.
“Trouble is, I’ve yet to receive pin money from my husband.
We’ve been married such a short while I’ve not even discussed this with him yet.
” She could have kicked herself for neglecting such a key marital conversation.
“But I can give you a necklace to pawn, and once I’ve funds in hand, you may retrieve it for me. Will that do?”
Annabelle seemed relieved. “Yes of course, Lizzie, you know I hate to—”
“Never be ashamed to ask me for anything, Bella. It is why I married the Baron.” She steadied herself. “And the man can continue to pay for the pleasure of my hand.”
“Miss Winthrop!” Milton was shocked to discover his sister-in-law in his foyer just as he was about to leave his house. “What brings you here today?”
“Why, I should think you know what, sir.” Her brow creased.
“I am sure I do not.”
“I came to congratulate my sister.”
“My dear, our wedding was some while ago.”
She looked at him most queerly. “You don’t know, do you?”
“Know what?”
“That it is her birthday, oaf!” Annabelle instantly clapped a hand to her mouth. “Oh dear I—forgive me, Baron.” She looked terribly contrite. “I did not mean to call you an—”
“Oaf?” He sighed. “But I am, Miss Winthrop, and worse. Only more vulgar terms are not fit for ladies’ ears.”
“Did Lizzie fail to tell you today is her birthday, sir?”
“She did.” Could his day get any worse? “Which does not mean I haven’t time, yet, to rectify the matter.” He’d kill two birds instead of one. “Might you be willing to accompany me on a short shopping trip, miss, and assist me in procuring your sister a gift?”
“I—”
He’d not let her wriggle out. “As your brother-in-law, I am the ideal chaperone to lead you about town. What’s more, I am in desperate need of your help, lest I buy Elizabeth a gift she hates, making her hate me only—” He stopped himself.
“You’ve had a row, haven’t you?” Annabelle peered at him. “I suspected as much, because she would not speak of you just now, and we do not keep secrets from one another.”
Milton suspected this minx was keeping plenty from his wife. “Miss Winthrop, I do not doubt you and your sister are indeed very close. But I’ve not a clue what Elizabeth might like, so…” He leveled his blue eyes at her soft brown irises. “Help your new brother repair a marital spat?”
“Very well.” Her lips pursed. “For Lizzie’s sake, mind. Because she is the very best person in the world, and you don’t deserve her in the least.”
“And don’t I know it,” he muttered as he grabbed his hat and cane to lead his sister-in-law down his front steps straight into his waiting carriage.