Chapter Thirteen
Later that evening
Hampton House
Cavendish Square
Mayfair, London
After the early tea she’d shared with her husband, Anne decided to call on her aunt because she missed her.
And she needed some sage advice.
“Are you quite certain you don’t wish for me to come in with you?” Broderick asked as the closed carriage rocked to a halt in front of her father’s townhouse where her aunt was staying through Twelfth Night.
“It’s sweet that you want to, but this should be a quick visit. I need to retrieve some clothing that was left behind. There’s a certain gown I want for Christmas night.”
“Very well.” He nodded. “I might pop ‘round to a shop or two while you’re busy, but when I come back to pick you up, we’ll do something together tonight.”
As she rested her gaze on him, she smiled. “You’ve made plans?” Truly, he was full of surprises.
“I have.”
“Will you give me a hint?”
“No. How else am I to encourage you to come out of that house?” He squeezed her hand as the driver opened the door and then put down the steps. “Enjoy your visit. I’ll return in an hour.”
Should she be worried that her husband was acting like such a gentleman? There were no easy answers, but she was admitted into the house with a warm welcome from the butler, and when she popped into the drawing room, Aunt Mildred was beside herself and greeted her with a smile and sparkling eyes.
“Anne! What a surprise.” She met her in the middle of the room and took her hands. “Why are you here? I thought you’d be busy with your new husband… or trying to find a place to hide his body at the very least.”
Heat seeped into Anne’s cheeks. “I wanted to see you and to take home a few garments that were forgotten in the first load.”
“Come. Sit. Since you’re not in Newgate, can I assume you haven’t killed your husband yet?” Her aunt settled on a low sofa and waited until Anne had taken a chair near her location.
The cheerful flames in the hearth and the warmth therein was most welcome.
“I have not.” With a shrug, she stared at her aunt as thoughts surged through her mind. “Oddly enough, Broderick is intense and more different than I thought he would be. Broken for sure, but is he beyond redemption? I don’t know.”
“Then you don’t want to kill him any longer or have your revenge on him?”
“I don’t believe so.” Another round of heat went through her cheeks. “It doesn’t seem right… after everything.”
“Oh?” A look of speculation came over her face. “What kind of ‘everything’ do you mean? Has something happened between the two of you?”
Well, drat. She walked right into that trap, didn’t she? There was nothing for it but to forge ahead. A sigh escaped her. “I’ll admit, the first couple of days were rough.”
“Ah, good, because it’s only been four since you married that man,” her aunt said with sarcasm in her tone.
Anne pulled a face like she used to do as a child. “But now? We’re coming to understand each other, I think. We have slowly been sharing our pasts and bits of our lives. It makes interactions better, deeper if possible.” Then she frowned. “What should I do?”
“Does he beat you?”
“He does not. Though he might have the capacity to become violent, he has not let that get out of hand.” The memories of him claiming her body by force circled ‘round her mind, but he had apologized for that, and she’d understood the motivation behind it.
What was more, he hadn’t done so again. “Never once did he lash out in retaliatory anger when I was the one who threw things at him.”
“I see.” Shocked silence brewed between them for a few moments. “Do you find him attractive, even with the beard?”
“I do.” She nodded. “It’s rather lovely at times.” Especially when gliding over her sensitive skin.
“Do you believe he has potential to grow into a better man?”
Did she? After the last couple of days, there was no denying it. “Yes. He has already showed interest in improving as a person.”
“Has he bedded you?”
Anne nodded.
One of her aunt’s eyebrows rose. “Did you enjoy it?”
More heat infused her cheeks. “After the first two days, I did. He has the potential to become addictive.” Good heavens, had she just admitted that to her aunt?
“Well, after discovering all that, since it is nearly Christmas, my advice is to throw him in bed and keep him there. Ride him into oblivion until one or both of you are in love.” Aunt Mildred shrugged when Anne gasped.
“Our existence on this earth is limited, my girl. As I’ve said before, if you can find love, you are wealthy and fortunate indeed.
And if you believe you can have that with your husband?
Chase it with everything that is in you. ”
“Why do you think that?”
Her aunt grinned. “I think, despite the horrible beginnings to this union, you and Mr. Cunningham are well matched. Together, you might even set the world on fire, and that might be a good thing for all of us.”
“Oh.” She pressed her lips together. “I don’t know what to say since I came in expecting opposition.”
Aunt Mildred snorted. “Not from me. Perhaps from your father and stepmother. In fact, if your union pokes at their demons, I’m all for it.” She patted the cushion next to her. “Now, come over here and let us have a quick coze before you need to leave again. I’ve missed you, my girl.”
An hour later, Anne swore her feet never touched the ground, for Broderick had taken her to Vauxhall Gardens after retrieving her from the visit with Aunt Mildred.
Though it was lightly snowing, they walked through the gardens on the well-lit paths, where they had thus far eaten from various hand carts.
Honestly, it was the best dinner she’d had in some time.
Then he’d bought her a small bouquet of flowers from a flower-seller’s cart.
Wrapped in red tissue paper, the mix of roses and winter greenery put her in mind of Christmastide as well as his cologne due to the evergreens.
“Tell me another reason why you despise this time of year over and above your dislike of your stepmother,” he asked in a soft voice as they strolled past a fortune teller’s tent.
“Without my mother and brother, it just doesn’t feel like the holiday.” She clung to his arm. “There will be permanent holes in my heart, I think, and I don’t want to feel them.”
“I have those holes too, but part of me wants to keep the traditions because of the people I’m remembering more during this time of year.
” He met her gaze. An odd mix of embarrassment and hope mixed in the dark depths of his eyes.
“Perhaps we can find ways to honor those missing from our lives. It might make our own celebrations that much more poignant.”
“And help us to heal?” she asked in a barely audible whisper.
“Indeed.” Then he heaved out a sigh. “There has been much reflection and introspection since I met you. At first, I despised it, but now? I almost welcome that pain because I know it will turn into growth.”
Surprise leapt into her chest, for she’d experienced the same thing. “Can you square with that?”
“I can. How about you?”
She nodded. “I am trying my best. Maturing doesn’t sound so frightening if I don’t have to do it alone.”
Broderick patted her hand. “I’m coming ‘round to believing that emotions don’t need to be locked away and ignored, and that living through the pain before letting it exit my life might be the key to ushering in the peace I’ve been chasing throughout the years.”
Warmth came over her from his words. “That was quite profound. I’m proud of you.
Somewhat jealous of you, honestly, but I know you’ll help and encourage me as I do you.
” How far they’d come in a handful of days.
Was it trust? Would it prove true and abiding?
Time would tell, but it was more than she had before.
“Absolutely.”
Not a whole lot was said for the remainder of their time at the winter market. They investigated stalls and tents, bought a few trinkets, laughed over silly jokes, talked about inconsequential things, and basically enjoyed the time together.
By the time they were both ensconced in the carriage, Anne’s feet were nearly frozen in her impractical slippers.
Not even the warmed brick she rested those appendages on could change that fact.
When Broderick came over to her bench, leaving his top hat, her reticule, their purchases, the luggage she’d taken from her father’s house, as well as the flowers on the opposite bench, she turned toward him simply for the added warmth.
But when he kissed her, she mewled like a tiny kitten and returned the embrace.
All too soon, it became heated. His hands went beneath her cloak to fondle her breasts while she worked at tugging his shirttails from the waist of his breeches in the attempt to feel the warmth of his chest on her hands.
After the evening spent with him, there was an undeniable closeness between them now, an invisible thread of…
rightness spinning there that hadn’t been present before.
By the time the vehicle rocked to a halt in front of his townhouse—their townhouse—they sprang away from each other as if they’d landed into scandal in someone’s drawing room.
As he handed her down, he whispered, “I suppose I’ll bid you goodnight at the door. No doubt you wish to retire to your rooms.”
“Mmm, not quite. Perhaps we should spend a couple of hours in the drawing room. Being in front of a fire is quite appealing, and if we order tea or a hot toddy, even better.” She glanced at him with a grin. “Don’t you agree?”
“God, yes.”