Chapter Seven
There was one thing Deo needed to sort out while he was in London which Emily definitely didn’t need to know about, and that was to terminate his arrangement with his mistress.
He had initially thought he would keep it, given that he wasn’t intending to consummate the marriage, at least not yet.
But considering that he wasn’t going to be residing in London for several months anyway, it seemed sensible to terminate the arrangement now.
His arrangement with Damaris (he was sure that wasn’t her real name, but he had never asked) had been in place for over ten years.
When he was in town, he visited her once a week on Thursdays at three pm for an hour.
There was no kissing, no conversation really beyond the commonplace, for what would he talk to her about?
She had no understanding or interest, he was sure, in the things that interested him.
She served a purely functional place in his life, nothing more, nothing less.
She stimulated herself to make herself ready for him, he popped his member in, and a little while later it was over.
It served the purpose of enabling him to function sensibly.
When he wasn’t resident in London, he used his hand to relieve the tension, at three pm on Thursdays.
The routine was so well established that his body knew when to get aroused and when to leave him alone.
He was aware this tightly regimented pattern was not the way others conducted their lives.
His friend Ravenshaw, for example, was notorious for his affairs, mostly with willing widows.
Before Troubridge was married, he had kept a mistress whom he visited regularly.
And Ashford was married, and to Deo’s knowledge, didn’t have and had never kept a mistress.
Knocking on her door at a time that wasn’t three pm on a Thursday—which was so wildly out of order it broke him out in a cold sweat—he was aware that it behooved him to provide her with some token of their time together.
But he wasn’t one for presents, so he’d simply brought her a check.
Money would be of more use to her and allow her sufficient time to find another protector.
The butler answered the door and was startled to see him. “My lord, it’s not Thursday.”
“I am aware, Stoughton, is Miss Damaris at home?”
“She is, my lord, in the parlor. I venture she will be glad to see you,” he said with a slight smile.
Deo didn’t return the smile. He was feeling acutely uncomfortable.
Stoughton opened the parlor door, a room Deo had never been in, and announced him.
“The Earl of Pendrell, ma’am.”
Damaris was sitting on a sofa and fully dressed. Since he never saw her except in a robe and half naked, he was taken aback.
She rose at his entrance, as startled to see him as Stoughton had been. “Pendrell! What brings you here today?”
The door had closed behind him. He swallowed and bowed to her.
“Forgive the intrusion. I have lately married, a week ago in fact. I came to inform you and,” he thrust out the check, “give you this in token of our time together. I hope it is adequate to express my—ah—appreciation of your services. Henceforth, I will no longer be requiring them.”
Damaris had stood opened mouthed through this recital. “I see.” She took the check and looked at it. “This is most generous. Thank you.” She appeared at a loss for a moment. “Would you care to sit down? A cup of tea perhaps?”
“No, thank you.”
“Well, I wish you well in your marriage, my lord,” she said a little stiffly.
He nodded. “Thank you. I wish you well also. I—” He stopped, flushing and flustered. “I apologize for the short notice in terminating our arrangement. It all happened very suddenly.”
Her expression softened and she said, “Did it? I hope it makes you happy, Deo. All the best.”
He nodded and bowed, turned, and left. He had a strange hollow ache in his chest that was very unpleasant.
His throat felt tight, and there was a peculiar sting in his eyes.
It must be anxiety. I don’t like change, and this is a big change to my routine.
He needed an outlet for the sudden flare of irritability that seized him.
He returned to the house, collected Kester and went for a very long walk.
By the time he returned, the achy, anxious feeling had mostly dissipated, but he was strangely disinclined to eat anything and decided that more exercise was needed.
Fortunately, there was no sign of Emily, so he didn’t have to talk to her.
He wasn’t fit company in his current state.
He might snap at her if she looked at him the wrong way.
He took himself off to Gentleman Jackson’s boxing saloon and spent a satisfactory hour sparring and sweating.
Thus, he was able to sit down to dinner that evening with his countess and ask politely about her day.
“I have ordered four new gowns and left instructions for them to be forwarded to the Duke of Troubridge’s estate in Leicestershire,” she said calmly.
“Have you had a chance to browse the library here yet?”
She flushed and smiled. “Yes, I spent a bit of time there this afternoon. You have a huge collection of gothic novels!”
“Ah!” It was his turn to blush. With embarrassment. “You have uncovered my secret vice. I’m addicted to them,” he admitted sheepishly.
Her face glowed and she leaned forward. “So am I! Mama forbade me to read them but Gregory—that’s our butler and my dearest friend—would smuggle them in for me. I had to leave them all behind, along with my other books and journals. I could only bring my research papers with me,” she said sadly.
“Perhaps we can retrieve them when we return from Leicestershire.”
She almost choked on her wine. “Y-yes, perhaps . . .”
“You’re most reluctant to have anything to do with your parents, aren’t you?”
“Yes,” she admitted, flushing.
“The way they have treated you, I’m not surprised. I can deal with them for you if you like.”
“Oh! That is most kind but—”
“It is not kind. I am your husband; it is my duty to protect you from—unpleasantness.” He was conscious of his tone being peremptory and of a rising irritation at the way she had been treated. He would deal with the situation on their return.
It occurred to him that her parents may have set steps in motion to find her.
After all, if a daughter goes missing, surely her parents, no matter how self-serving, would want to recover her and know that she was well?
And they might be understandably annoyed with him for keeping her from them.
Well, he was equal to that. As her husband, his rights outranked theirs.
But he really should look into who her parents were, if she wouldn’t tell him.
He was strangely reluctant to force her to.
He pushed the problem aside; it would wait until their return. If her parents are worried, they deserve to be. Starving your daughter to death in an attempt to coerce her into accepting a proposal that is repugnant to her is the act of monsters. He had scant sympathy for them.
*
They embarked for Leicestershire two days later at first light.
It would take them two long days of travel to get there, and Deo was anxious to get underway.
Emily was a pleasant traveling companion, willing to converse, but also to sit quietly and read.
Really, she is an ideal wife. I must remember to write and thank Emrys for the suggestion.
They spent eight hours on the road, stopping at Swinford for the night. He made an initial attempt to get them separate rooms, but the hostelry was close to fully booked, and the host was only able to offer him a single room. “It’s a large one, my lord, one of my best,” he said apologetically.
With a glance at Emily who was looking flushed and slightly embarrassed, he accepted the single room and had their luggage carried up with instructions that a bath was to be provided for the countess.
The room was indeed large and pleasant. Its predominant piece of furniture was a large bed, the sight of which made him uneasy.
So far, he had managed to avoid any form of physical intimacy with his wife.
Tonight, that was going to be impossible.
The prospect was making him nervous. He was an intensely private person, and he had never shared a bed with anyone in his life.
Only his valet had seen him naked as a grown man—and his former mistress, he added mentally.
Emily was staring at the bed, too, with flushed cheeks. He pulled himself together at the sight of her discomposure. He needed to reassure her that he wouldn’t break the rules of their contract.
And to make matters worse, he had sent their servants, Jenny and Stevens, ahead to announce their arrival, so they would have to tend to their own dressing, too.
The two servants should have arrived at The Castle by now.
Stevens was very familiar with the place and would ensure Jenny was looked after appropriately.
Sending them ahead also ensured that the duke and duchess would have had ample time to prepare a suitable welcome for his countess.
Emily wasn’t shy with him, but he suspected she would be in company.
Sarah’s warmth would overcome that quickly, he was sure, but he wanted to assure her comfort as much as possible.
When the inn’s servants left to fetch more hot water, he said, “Don’t be concerned.” He waved toward the bed. “I am a man of my word.”
She jerked her head around to him and her cheeks deepened in color. His gaze followed the line of pink to her chest and jerked away in haste.
“Yes, of course!” she said quickly.