Chapter 41 #2
“The misapprehension, my lord,” Alasdair continued, “as I am sure the bishop will make clear presently, is that the virginity of the bride, alone, is of no consequence in an annulment.”
“It’s not of consequence?” Harry couldn’t believe this. “It doesn’t matter I am, well, not untouched, I can’t say that, but . . . unpenetrated?”
“Yes,” the bishop answered. “It is not enough that the bride remains a virgin. On the other hand, impotence of the husband, in addition to the virginity of the wife, can lead to an annulment. You must be married for three years and remain a virgin while sharing a bed with your husband.”
“Three years. We’ve been married a year,” Harry said. “So will we come back in two years?”
How was she going to manage to share a bed with Tommy for two years and not be tempted to touch him in all manner of ways?
There, in the bishop’s office, at the thought of Tommy’s heat, his scent, his chest and thighs, his head on a pillow next to hers, his hands and mouth on her body, she felt herself begin to get wet between her legs. Traitorous pudenda.
“Of course,” the bishop continued, “it leaves a horrible stain on the reputation of both parties. In addition, your husband must be proven to be unable to produce an erection with anyone, including highly trained courtesans.”
Harry tapped a finger against her lips. “Can he be intoxicated at the time?”
The bishop darted a look of alarm at Alasdair.
“Nae, my lady,” the doctor said.
Harry snorted. “I think we can forget about impotence as a reason for annulment.”
“That leaves deception or fraud. Or madness,” the bishop said and smiled. “And I think, all appearances to the contrary, neither of you are mad. You are both of age and previously unmarried. You used the correct names on the register. There will be no annulment.”
Thomas took his face out of his hands.
“I do wonder at the non-consummation of the marriage, Lord Drake, Lady Drake,” the bishop said. “What is the reluctance?”
Harry looked at Thomas and then back at the bishop.
“It was one of the terms of our marriage. I had an aversion to copulation then, only caring for the conjecture, and Tommy agreed to my condition we have no marital congress so he could use my dowry to save Sommerleigh.” Her eyes started to fill with tears.
She blinked rapidly. “So it’s my fault. Besides, I am no beauty, and I don’t have red hair. ”
“Stop it.” This came from Thomas as he stood. “I won’t listen to that anymore. You are beautiful. And I don’t know why you are fixated on—Harry, I have no attachment to red hair. And, of course, I would have bedded you long ago, if you were willing.”
She was beautiful.
He had no attachment to red hair.
He was willing.
But still.
“What about,” Harry swallowed, “what about the never-having-children?”
Alasdair cleared his throat. “I should have said something sooner, and I can only hope ye will forgive me. Despite yer recent injuries, ye have been in such good health for so many months, Lady Drake, I quite forgot the prohibition against child-bearing we discussed when ye first came to Sommerleigh a year ago. At that time, as ye may remember, ye were ill, malnourished, weak. I agreed then with the other doctors ye had seen here in London that a pregnancy would have almost certainly killed ye. However, ye are a different woman now. Ye have gained almost three stone. Ye just ran from the Old White Horse Cellar to St. Paul’s, a distance of perhaps two miles, with breath to spare.
I believe yer risk in childbirth is now essentially the same as any other woman. ”
Harry looked at the ceiling of the study. “Tommy. Do you really not care that much for red hair?”
“I hate it,” Thomas said. “No insult to you, Dr. Andrews.”
“I am not insulted, Lord Drake. I dinnae like it myself.”
Thomas came close to Harry’s chair and tucked a tendril of hair back behind her ear, which made her shiver. “I like brown hair.”
She shifted her gaze to his waistcoat buttons.
“And what about large breasts?” Harry asked.
Thomas leaned down and put his head directly next to hers. His warm breath tickled her ear. The lightest brush of his fingertips on her shoulder blade. He whispered, “Anything more than a handful is just wasteful extravagance. I like your breasts, Harry.”
A knock came on the study door just as Harry was performing several strategic triangulations in her head involving distances and speeds. And the exigencies of her situation.
“I am glad the matter has been resolved before my next appointment,” the bishop said. “Especially because you know the parties involved. How fortuitous. Of course, I am prejudiced by my calling, but I sense the hand of divinity in the confluence of these events.” He winked.
Harry thought the world was a very confusing place sometimes.
Certainly, with the heat of her willing husband next to her and the triangulation calculations she was doing in her head and her own slippery arousal between her legs, she had reason to feel overwhelmed.
But then the world became even more confusing.
Her stepmother Catherine came through the door first, followed by her sister Arabella.
Harry stood and suddenly found her left hand in Thomas’ hand.
“Harry!” Catherine came forwards and hugged and kissed her stepdaughter with none of the reserve she had used in the past with Harry. It was almost as if Catherine knew Harry would permit it. Or she didn’t care. But then Catherine pulled away, and her eyes ran over Harry.
“What are these bruises on your face? And you have hurt your hand!”
“An accident in the stables, Mama Katie. I’m fine, really.”
“Well, you must take care, Harry. How wonderful that you and Thomas are here! Jamie—” she turned to the man who had followed her and Arabella into the study, “did you tell Thomas and Harry behind my back? I thought we agreed to travel to Sommerleigh on Friday to tell them.”
As Arabella also hugged her, Harry realized the man was James, Thomas’ friend, the one who had come for Christmas and then given them the Lacroix text as a wedding present. His hair was shorter than before.
Thomas was shaking hands with him and greeting Catherine and Arabella.
Harry remembered what she should say on occasions like these. “Mama Katie, this is Dr. Andrews.”
“The famous doctor.” Catherine curtsied. “We all owe so much to you for returning my lovely girl to health.”
Dr. Andrews blushed. “Nae, ’twere all down to Lady Drake herself and Lord Drake, too, of course.”
“Dr. Andrews, this is my other daughter, Miss Arabella Lovelock.”
Dr. Andrews bent low over Arabella’s hand, and Catherine went on, “And of course, His Grace, the Duke of Middlewich.” But Dr. Andrews had not yet taken his eyes from Arabella’s.
Thomas then voiced the question Harry would have asked if she had any thought to spare for anything besides what might happen when she and Thomas left the bishop’s study. “How do you come to be here?”
Catherine looked at James. James laughed and said, “We’re here to arrange the banns.”
“Congratulations, Jamie! We will be brothers!” Thomas clapped him on the back.
Dr. Andrews took a step away from Arabella.
Thomas went on, “And I wish you all happiness, Miss Lovelock.” He bowed to Arabella.
There was silence, at first.
“No, no, no,” Arabella said, blushing, looking at the doctor.
James and Catherine began laughing.
“No, Tom,” James said. “I, uh, thought I might succeed where you had failed. I am very happy to say Mrs. Catherine Lovelock will shortly become the Duchess of Middlewich.” He grinned. “So, in a way, I will be your father-in-law.”
Harry looked at Catherine. There was something in her face that Harry had not seen since her father died. Was it happiness? Were she and her stepmother feeling the same thing right now?
“Many happy returns, Mama Katie.”
“Thank you, Harry. It is hard to believe I have found love twice in a lifetime. I feel myself very fortunate, indeed.”
Catherine crossed to the bishop and began to talk about the banns and the wedding. Arabella and Dr. Andrews were discussing—was it the weather? Thomas leaned in close to James, but Harry could hear what passed between them.
“Good man, Jamie. I’m happy for you.”
“Thank you. I knew you would be.”
“A duke and a husband in the same year.”
“And a father, too.”
“It’s a good joke, but I think you’re a bit too young to refer to yourself as father to Arabella and Harry and me.”
James nodded and winked. “I agree.”
Harry whipped her head around to gaze at her stepmother. The fashion for high-waisted dresses hid all manner of thick waists and large hips. But was it possible? Did the tiny Catherine have a visible bump over her abdomen?
Thomas smiled. “Let me not delay your banns, then.”
Everything was taking far too long. It was pleasant to see her family, and she was glad for her stepmother’s happiness, but the delay was intolerable. Intolerable. As in she could not tolerate it a second longer. She had a most pressing need.
Harry spoke very loudly. “I must . . .”
The room stilled.
She went on, “I must go. There is a very significant corollary I have overlooked.” She looked at Thomas. “I must go.” She seized his arm. “And Tommy must come with me.”