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Authors: Nathaniel Burns
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at the hotel. However, I had reckoned without the strangeness of my husband’s behaviour. He came to our room as I finished dressing for dinner and looked me up and down indifferently.
“Hmm. Pretty.” he said. “I’m sure my cousin will appreciate it.”
I knew Mama would have wanted me to bow my head and say nothing, but I found I could not. I met Sir Montague’s gaze. “I had hoped that my dress would please you, sir,” I told him. “Mr Chastain’s reaction was the furthest thing from my mind.”
He gave me a look of utter disbelief. “Why should I care what you wear? I’m not going to be there, so it’s only Mervyn who’ll get the benefit.”
“ You are not coming to dinner, husband?”
“ No, my little mouse of a wife, I am not. It has been some time since I was last in town and I have other matters to attend to. Besides which, I can think of nothing so tedious as spending the evening listening to my cousin flirting with my wife and you pretending not to notice. I had quite enough of that in the carriage today.”
I struggled to figure out what I should do next. Hearing my husband accuse me of being engaged in a flirtation with Mervyn made me furious – I wanted to scream with frustration and tell him how I was resisting that flirtation with every fibre of my being. I wanted to throw myself on my knees and weep and beg him not to be displeased with me, not to tell Mama, not to send us away or worse, forbid me from contact with Mervyn. I wanted to shrug my shoulders and tell him that I did not care what he thought, since he was obviously as supremely indifferent to me as I was to him. I did none of these things.
“If you prefer, I can dine alone,” I offered. “I would never wish you to suspect me of anything. Believe me, I am as true a wife as you could wish. If you prefer me not to dine with your cousin I will ask for a tray to be brought for me.”
“ How very touching,” he laughed. “No, you’re quite safe with Mervyn. He might look at you with undisguised lust, he might talk to you as if you were childhood sweethearts, but I know my cousin. He knows better than to lay a finger on anything that’s mine.” He came up behind me as I sat at the dressing table and laid a hand on my bare shoulder. Our eyes met in the mirror. “I can see that you are obsessed with him, little Rebecca,” he whispered, slithering his hand over my skin and under my dress to cup my breast. “You think I should be angry. But no. You see, I rather like watching you and him squirming with all that pure, pent-up passion, knowing that you can’t do a thing about it because you are both dependent on me. I like seeing the way he looks at you and knowing that I may use your body as I see fit while he may never lay a hand on you. You shall dine alone with him this evening and he shall wish that you were his wife, not mine. Then tonight I shall take you to bed and he will lie on the other side of the wall from us, knowing that while he burns with passion for you I am at that very moment using you as I please.”
There was a rap on the door. Sir Montague let me go and went to open it. Mervyn stood upon the threshold, ready to join us in venturing down to the dining room.
“Ah, Mervyn,” my husband said jovially. “I’m afraid I shan’t be joining you for dinner tonight. Perhaps you would take care of my lovely wife for me this evening.”
I rose to leave with Mervyn, but as I passed Sir Montague he caught me round the waist and kissed me hard, one hand on the back of my head to ensure that I could not pull away. My cheeks burned scarlet with shame and I could not look Mervyn in the eye as I took arm to go downstairs.
Despite knowing what awaited me that night, I was determined to enjoy my unexpectedly intimate dinner with Mervyn. We spoke of books and music, of the stories he had told me, of my previous life in Lisson Grove, studiously avoiding the topic of his impending departure. The minutes flew by all too
“Hmm. Pretty.” he said. “I’m sure my cousin will appreciate it.”
I knew Mama would have wanted me to bow my head and say nothing, but I found I could not. I met Sir Montague’s gaze. “I had hoped that my dress would please you, sir,” I told him. “Mr Chastain’s reaction was the furthest thing from my mind.”
He gave me a look of utter disbelief. “Why should I care what you wear? I’m not going to be there, so it’s only Mervyn who’ll get the benefit.”
“ You are not coming to dinner, husband?”
“ No, my little mouse of a wife, I am not. It has been some time since I was last in town and I have other matters to attend to. Besides which, I can think of nothing so tedious as spending the evening listening to my cousin flirting with my wife and you pretending not to notice. I had quite enough of that in the carriage today.”
I struggled to figure out what I should do next. Hearing my husband accuse me of being engaged in a flirtation with Mervyn made me furious – I wanted to scream with frustration and tell him how I was resisting that flirtation with every fibre of my being. I wanted to throw myself on my knees and weep and beg him not to be displeased with me, not to tell Mama, not to send us away or worse, forbid me from contact with Mervyn. I wanted to shrug my shoulders and tell him that I did not care what he thought, since he was obviously as supremely indifferent to me as I was to him. I did none of these things.
“If you prefer, I can dine alone,” I offered. “I would never wish you to suspect me of anything. Believe me, I am as true a wife as you could wish. If you prefer me not to dine with your cousin I will ask for a tray to be brought for me.”
“ How very touching,” he laughed. “No, you’re quite safe with Mervyn. He might look at you with undisguised lust, he might talk to you as if you were childhood sweethearts, but I know my cousin. He knows better than to lay a finger on anything that’s mine.” He came up behind me as I sat at the dressing table and laid a hand on my bare shoulder. Our eyes met in the mirror. “I can see that you are obsessed with him, little Rebecca,” he whispered, slithering his hand over my skin and under my dress to cup my breast. “You think I should be angry. But no. You see, I rather like watching you and him squirming with all that pure, pent-up passion, knowing that you can’t do a thing about it because you are both dependent on me. I like seeing the way he looks at you and knowing that I may use your body as I see fit while he may never lay a hand on you. You shall dine alone with him this evening and he shall wish that you were his wife, not mine. Then tonight I shall take you to bed and he will lie on the other side of the wall from us, knowing that while he burns with passion for you I am at that very moment using you as I please.”
There was a rap on the door. Sir Montague let me go and went to open it. Mervyn stood upon the threshold, ready to join us in venturing down to the dining room.
“Ah, Mervyn,” my husband said jovially. “I’m afraid I shan’t be joining you for dinner tonight. Perhaps you would take care of my lovely wife for me this evening.”
I rose to leave with Mervyn, but as I passed Sir Montague he caught me round the waist and kissed me hard, one hand on the back of my head to ensure that I could not pull away. My cheeks burned scarlet with shame and I could not look Mervyn in the eye as I took arm to go downstairs.
Despite knowing what awaited me that night, I was determined to enjoy my unexpectedly intimate dinner with Mervyn. We spoke of books and music, of the stories he had told me, of my previous life in Lisson Grove, studiously avoiding the topic of his impending departure. The minutes flew by all too
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