Louise Allen - Regency Surrender - Passion And Rebellion

‘Increasing...’ Mary laid her hand flat on her stomach, and did a few sums. ‘It...it might be the case. I haven’t...’

Aunt Pargetter nodded sagely. ‘Well, then. That is a sure way to win him round. Every time I got in the family way Leonard was so pleased with me he couldn’t do enough for me. You have only to write and tell your own husband and I’m sure he will come post-haste to your side.’

‘No.’ A cold, sick feeling knotted Mary’s stomach. ‘No, that really would be the end. We agreed, you see, that once I was expecting, he would no longer need to...need to—’ She broke off, blushing fierily. ‘He said that as soon as I gave him an heir, we could go our separate ways.’ She buried her face in her hands. ‘If I am increasing, he won’t think there’s any need to see me again. I’ll never get him back.’

‘Well, then, don’t tell him.’

Mary’s head flew up. ‘But I promised him an heir. Wouldn’t it be dishonest to keep him in the dark about something he finds so important?’

‘Pish,’ said her aunt, making a dismissive gesture with her hand. ‘The man clearly needs to be brought to his senses. And you’re not going to be able to do it unless you can get him here. Unless you would rather go crawling back to him and beg him to love you?’

Since she’d already vowed never to do such a craven, spineless thing, Mary shook her head vehemently.

‘I thought not. But anyway, it won’t be exactly dishonest. It is far too soon for you to be absolutely sure you are increasing. I know I detected more than a hint of uncertainty in your voice when I brought it up.’

‘Yes. I mean, no. I’m not sure...’ Although it was far too early to tell, now that her aunt had mentioned it, it did explain her tendency to weep and her ungovernable bursts of temper. And why she’d been feeling alternately nauseous, or ravenous. And it was better than going on believing she’d become physically ill simply because she’d fallen in love and had no hope of her feelings being returned.

Besides, there was the matter of a missing monthly flow. And her husband had been so very amorous, at least to start with. Hadn’t she always thought how very virile he was? Yes—it must be true. She was going to have a baby.

‘He sets great store by getting an heir, you say?’

Blushing hotly, Mary nodded her head. Then she glanced at Lotty and Dotty, wondering how much she could confide in her aunt, with them listening. Both of them were staring at her, wide-eyed, with a mixture of concern and curiosity.

‘He said that he wanted to get me with child as soon as he possibly could,’ she admitted.

‘Then it’s likely, if you keep him in the dark about your suspicions, that he will have a good excuse to come to town and keep trying.’

Mary shifted uncomfortably in her seat.

‘I can’t... It must seem odd, but somehow I can’t bear the thought of him steeling himself to visit my bed....’

Her cousins giggled.

‘Mary. You are such an innocent.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Hush, girls,’ said her aunt repressively. Then turned to Mary. ‘I do not think it is his feelings about the act that trouble you, but your own. Now that you have fallen in love with him, you shrink from permitting an act that has probably up till recently been only carnal in nature.’

The words struck to her very core. She hadn’t been in love with him that first night, had she? When she’d been so hot for him she’d practically ripped off his shirt.

‘You are right. I want more than just...enjoyment. Is that very selfish of me?’

‘Not in the least. I think most women want much more from their husbands than they ever receive, in emotional terms. Men are just not given to deep feelings.’

‘Then what am I to do? How can I learn to settle for...for the little he is prepared to give?’

Her aunt patted her hand. ‘Perhaps coming to London without him was the best thing you could have done. If he wants a calm, sensible sort of wife, then you can give yourself the time to calm down. And when he does come after you, which believe me, my dear, he will do, then you must show him you can be sensible. Be the kind of wife he wants. And you will regain the respect you believe you have forfeited.’

Mary twisted the handkerchief between her fingers. What Aunt Pargetter was saying was only what she’d thought herself. And what’s more, she did know exactly the sort of wife he wanted. He’d written it all down on that list.

At least, he’d written what he thought he wanted. She’d soon discovered he didn’t really want a modest wife. He enjoyed her eager response to his inventiveness.

The delicate handkerchief ripped.

She could tie herself in knots trying to conform to the things he said he wanted and be totally wasting her time. And anyway, she couldn’t—no, actually, she simply wouldn’t try to be something she was not, just to keep him sweet. She’d watched her mother do that and look where it had got her!

‘No,’ she said firmly. ‘I am not going to start plotting and planning, and embarking on a campaign to alter the terms of our marriage. After all, I agreed to all those terms, didn’t I? I told him I wanted a practical, loveless marriage. It’s not his fault I went and fell in love with him, is it?’

‘I don’t see how you could have helped it,’ said Dotty. ‘He’s remarkably handsome and was so attentive to you.’

‘And at a time when you must have felt so alone,’ added Lotty.

‘Yes,’ said Dotty indignantly. ‘He practically pounced on you when you were at your most vulnerable.’

Like a predator with a mouse.

But she wasn’t a mouse.

It was heartening to have the girls blame him for everything, the way she’d been doing up till now. But was it fair to say he was a predator and she’d been his victim? Was it even true? She’d just told her aunt she’d agreed to marry him for practical reasons. And at the time, she had seen it as a way to help her aunt and cousins. To help Julia. But had she just used that as an excuse to get close to him? To belong to him?

Oh, lord, she thought, perhaps she had. That was why she’d been so devastated when she’d discovered and read that list. He’d already told her he didn’t want a woman who would be looking for affection within marriage. But it hadn’t really struck home until she’d read it in black and white.

She’d married him under false pretences. Oh, perhaps not deliberately. And she’d been deceiving herself more than him.

‘It’s not his fault,’ she said with resolution. ‘I cannot blame him for being what he is. And sticking to the terms we agreed. I shall...I shall just have to pull myself together.’

‘We’ll help you,’ vowed Dotty.

‘Yes. We’ll keep you so busy you won’t have time to mope over the stupid man.’

And every day she would grow more accustomed to her lot. She would.

‘It looks as though there’s enough for you to do in this house to keep you occupied until well after the baby arrives,’ added her aunt. ‘You did say, in your letter, you needed the names of reliable plumbers, and plasterers, and painters, and upholsterers, didn’t you?’

‘Yes,’ said Mary. She was also going to need the name of a doctor she could trust. And a midwife. And she’d certainly have to buy all those clothes she’d used as an excuse to come up to London without him, or she really would look pathetic.

‘Do you know which modiste the most fashionable, wealthiest ladies of the ton patronise? If I’m going to live apart from my husband, there’s no sense in looking as though I mind.’

‘That’s the spirit,’ said her aunt with a smile. ‘Spend his money making yourself all the rage and he’ll soon sit up and take notice.’