The Science of Seduction #4
“No. No. Not at all.” He shook his head vigorously and swallowed. “That is not what I meant. You are my bride, Harriet, and… And I just meant to point out that I get very frustrated if people interfere with my work.”
“Why would I interfere?” She slathered the bread with golden butter that sparkled with little salt crystals.
He frowned and reached for a glass of water. “Most people do. Or try to.”
“And is that because they are interested or is it because they want to help or maybe they don’t want you to do what you are doing because it is a bad idea?”
“Mmm.” He tapped his finger on his lip. “I’m not sure. All of that, maybe.”
“And what are you working on at the moment?” She hoped her cheeks didn’t redden as she asked the question she knew the answer to. “Is it something I’d be interested in?”
“Perhaps.” He stood. “Though it is not something that will work for women.”
“Oh?” She raised her eyebrows. Why would a hot shower of water be unsuitable for women? “Now I am intrigued. Tell me more.”
“I…I…” He wafted his hand in the air. “I’m too tired to explain. I have to sleep.”
“Then I bid you goodnight, even though it is morning.” She smiled, somewhat relieved that he hadn’t ordered her upstairs to spread her legs.
He walked to the door, his strides long, and then turned. “I have been neglectful of you. I see that now.”
“Please do not concern yourself.” Oh, Lord, perhaps he’s changed his mind and decided he does have the energy to consummate our marriage with his long, dark cock.
“But I do concern myself… I am guilty of neglecting you after you have been so good as to come here and…” He frowned. “We will take a picnic later today. I will tell you about your new home, the grounds, the flora and fauna.” He paused. “If you would like that.”
He conveyed an earnestness in his demeanor that was suddenly endearing, and Harriet nodded. “Yes. I would like that.”
“Good. It’s settled. Have Cook prepare the food.”
He disappeared and Harriet bit into her bread and butter. It was the most they’d spoken since they’d met and his words bounced around her brain in the quiet kitchen.
“Not suitable for women.” “Good to come here.” “Neglectful of you.”
The cat appeared and wound itself around Harriet’s leg. She fed it a tiny morsel of beef left over in the broth pot. “Are you happy here?” she asked it.
It meowed and carried on eating.
Harriet straightened and poured herself a glass of milk.
“Oh, Your Grace, what are you doing in here at this early hour?” Mrs. Talbot drew to a halt, fingers spread on her round frame as she smoothed her apron.
“We haven’t even started our chores yet.
His Grace tells us six is early enough for anyone to rise from bed and I’m not sure I agree when the house is so big and—”
“I would agree with him and I’m sorry for surprising you. I was hungry.”
“And you’re eating bread and butter washed down with milk.
” She bustled past. “You are the lady of this house. I will prepare you eggs—duck eggs, at that—serve you in the dining room. And that bread is yesterday’s, for goodness’s sake.
” She shook her head. “I will draw you a pot of sweet tea, right now.”
Harriet smiled. “I thank you, but I just needed something to tide me over. I always wake hungry.”
“Well, that will never do. From now on, you will have a box of freshly baked biscuits in your room at all times so you never have to endure such a thing.”
“That is very kind of you.”
She nodded as if satisfied with Harriet’s answer and then gestured to Jasper’s empty bowl. “I see His Grace found his supper. I left it on the stove.”
“Only just. That bowl is likely still warm.”
“Oh, that boy.” She clasped her hand over her mouth. “I am sorry. That was disrespectful.”
Harriet said nothing.
“It’s just I have cared for him so much over the years, patched up his grazed knees, mopped his brow in fevers, had the men from the local village come and fetch him down from the top of the tallest oak tree on the estate, which he’d deigned to climb one day in his tenth year and got stuck.”
“Really?” What an adventurer her new husband was.
“Oh, yes, terrible fright for us all and it took an entire day to get him safely back on the ground.” She shook her head. “If I’d lost him… Well, it would be like losing my own son.”
Harriet smiled. “He is lucky to have you.”
“And I him.” Cook banged a bag of flour onto the counter. “And what are his plans for today? Does he remember that he has a wife or will I have to jog his memory?”
“I’ll be honest, Mrs. Talbot: I think he did forget last night.”
She muttered and shook her head.
“But now, he’s declared we are going on a picnic today so he can tell me about Hinton Manor.”
“That sounds like a grand idea.” She began cracking eggs into a bowl. “I will make you quiche and scotching eggs and I have cheese and apples. Yes, it will be a feast. Emily will help.” She looked at the door. “Emily! Emily!”
Emily rushed in, tucking her hair into her little, white cap. “Yes, Cook. I am here.”
“Ah, good. Now can you please help Her Grace dress so that she can eat breakfast in the dining room?”
“Yes. Yes, of course.” Emily bobbed her head a curtsey. “It will be my honor.”
*
Emily was a giggly, little thing and with bounds of energy. Although not trained as a lady’s maid, she did a good job and put Harriet at ease.
But once dressed and full of egg and tea, Harriet was alone again.
She rummaged in her case and found her paints and paper.
She wanted to paint the elaborate fountain.
Water was always a challenge to commit to paper, but it was one she could take on.
And the crowned statue of Neptune, replete with trident and three horses crashing around him, would make for an interesting piece.
She pulled on a sun hat and headed outside. Emily had had a chair and umbrella set up for her and there was a glass of lemonade on a small table. The top was covered in weighted lace to prevent wasps.
Sitting, Harriet studied the angle of the fountain. Perfect.
Soon, she was immersed in her artwork. The horses had flared nostrils, wide eyes, and great, flowing manes.
Neptune had thick eyebrows and a curled beard.
She carefully added in the water flowing around them, splashing down on them, and dotting the air.
It was a complex scene and she wanted to capture the movement.
“I had no idea.”
A deep voice echoed to her left.
She turned and looked up at Jasper. He wore boots and white breeches, a white shirt, loose on the sleeves and a smart, gray woolen waistcoat. In his hand was a wicker hamper.
“What did you have no idea about?” She set her paints to one side, embarrassed not to have heard him approach.
“That I have such a talented bride.”
He reached for the painting and she had no choice but to hand it over.
“It’s really very accomplished.” He nodded approvingly. “Who taught you to do this?”
“My mother. She is very good. Much better than I.”
“I find it hard to believe the Neptune fountain could be better captured with a brush by anyone who lives and breathes.”
Harriet swelled at the compliment and then squirmed on the seat. Usually, she kept her paintings very private, showing Mother occasionally, but she painted for the joy of it, not for the praise.
He tipped his head as though noticing her discomfort. “I wonder what other talents my wife has.”
“As I wonder about my husband.”
He chuckled softly and held out his hand. “Please, let’s walk. I have a sumptuous picnic. Cook really is an angel.”
Harriet took his hand. His flesh was warm, his palm a little roughened, and his grip confident as he helped her stand.
After smoothing out the wrinkles on her pale-blue gown, Harriet and her husband set off toward the lake. She set her fingers resting in the crook of his elbow and he walked at her pace.
“I know a nice spot,” he said. “Frequented by a kingfisher. I think you’ll like it. Maybe even be inspired to paint it.”
“Thank you. That sounds wonderful.”
They walked on in silence. Questions rattled around Harriet’s head, but she couldn’t decide which one to ask.
“I trust you are happy with Emily as your lady’s maid?” he said after a while.
“She does seem to have rather a lot to do, much more than a regular house maid or a lady’s maid, which would usually be two separate jobs.”
“And that worries you?”
“I do not wish to burden anyone, and I feel…”
“What? Please tell me.”
“I feel that a few more maids, housemaids in particular, wouldn’t go amiss. The hall is huge.”
He frowned slightly. “If that is what you wish.”
“I think it is a necessity. You have a busier household now that I am here.”
“That is true.” He paused. “In that case, yes, I will have Cook interview for the roles of housemaids.”
“Good.”
“And Emily will be yours and yours alone, for lady’s maid duties,” he said. “Does that suit you?”
“Yes, indeed. She is quite the character to have around.”
He glanced at her. “Why do you say that?”
Harriet shrugged. “She made me giggle this morn with a story about the cat chasing a dog who had gotten lost from the hunt pack. The cat took umbrage that the dog appeared at the kitchen door asking for scraps and hissed at it before running it off the estate.”
“Oh, yes.” He smiled and nodded. “I remember that. Quite the tale to tell.”
They reached a spot beside a reed bed and he spread out a blanket. “I’m sorry. I should have arranged for chairs.”
“The blanket is fine.” Harriet sat and stretched out her legs, lifting her face to the sky. She closed her eyes. Bliss.
When she opened them, he was looking down at her with a new expression on his face.
“What?” she asked, quickly checking the somewhat-daring neckline on her gown hadn’t slipped and revealed her breasts.
He frowned a little and was still staring at her. “You really are…very beautiful.”
She giggled. A nervous, tight sound. “Why…thank you.”
“I am not just saying it—it’s a truth.” He sat, folding his long legs beneath himself. “With the sun in your hair, and your eyes the same blue as the sky.”