with him, and caught Jindra up in his arms again as she raced towards him holding a package half as big as she was. “And what’s this, then?”
“I
said
, Dadda,” she reminded him. “Pillow. I helped sew!”
“Yes, you did tell me. Sorry I didn’t pay attention. Let’s go see Jez, shall we?”
The pillow proved to be a beautifully worked creation of dark green silk embroidered in the center with a pale green thistle and scented with cinnamon and sage. Grandmother and aunts exclaimed over how pretty it was, and Jezael gave her a bow rendered no less elegant for his being propped up in bed. Jindra fussed over the placement of his injured leg on the pillow.
“Beholden, Jinnie. It feels much better already!”
She insisted on staying in his room that night, sharing a cot with Mishia, and when Mieka came in the next morning, he found her curled up beside Jez like a drowsing puppy.
His mother, who sat at the window sorting Mistress Mirdley’s doses of medicine, smiled. “I keep wondering,” she said softly, so as not to wake them, “how you ever managed to produce anything so sweet as that child.”
“Mum! I was just as adorable at her age!”
“Actually,” she mused, “you were. What in all Hells happened?”
He grinned and betook himself downstairs, intending to take breakfast up to his wife. They’d spent the night in separate rooms so she could recover from the drive. Only two more nights with her, he reminded himself, before several long months of separation. And this time, he thought with a wince, he really would have to behave himself. Month after month of celibacy … it didn’t bear thinking about.
The spring sojourn in Lilyleaf came about because Mieka had been a very, very,
very
bad boy. From last year’s Royal Circuit he had brought home toys for Jindra, a beautiful fur capelet for his mother-in-law, and, among other things, a case of the pox for his wife. Auntie Brishen had been applied to when his own affliction manifested itself most unpleasantly during Touchstone’s giggings at Castle Biding. The cure had come by special courier (with a hefty bill and an admonition to keep his pants buttoned), and he’d thought he was over it by the time he got home. That he wasn’t had become clear that autumn in ways equally unpleasant for his wife. Again Auntie Brishen was consulted, and again she had provided (for an even heftier fee, and with her solemn promise to tell his mother if it ever happened again).
Having broken one of his own rules—that it mattered for naught what a man did when he was away from his wife so long as he didn’t bring home anything nasty—he made up for it the only way he knew how. They’d never had a real wedding trip, so in early spring when the roads were passable, he borrowed Lord Kearney Fairwalk’s second-best carriage (complete with groom to drive and look after the horses) and took his wife to Lilyleaf for a month of pampering. He did whatever she wanted and bought her anything she fancied. He accompanied her to shops and escorted her to public balls—and private ones, too, for once it was known that the most outrageous member of Touchstone was taking a holiday in Lilyleaf, the rich or titled or both were eager for the now-legendary diversions of Mieka’s presence. That he had a beautiful wife was almost consolation for the fact that he behaved himself perfectly. On mild days he took her for long drives in the countryside or partnered her at bowls on a green with only a few really muddy patches. He found something harmless and boring to do while she went to the baths. He didn’t drink more than a single ale or glass of wine each day. He left his thorn-roll at home. They stayed at Croodle’s inn, and every so often he caught a sardonic glint in her black eyes for the impeccable picture of sober husbandly virtue he presented. He had the feeling she knew the reason for it.
Mieka was able to take a whole month on holiday because of four things.
First,
“I
said
, Dadda,” she reminded him. “Pillow. I helped sew!”
“Yes, you did tell me. Sorry I didn’t pay attention. Let’s go see Jez, shall we?”
The pillow proved to be a beautifully worked creation of dark green silk embroidered in the center with a pale green thistle and scented with cinnamon and sage. Grandmother and aunts exclaimed over how pretty it was, and Jezael gave her a bow rendered no less elegant for his being propped up in bed. Jindra fussed over the placement of his injured leg on the pillow.
“Beholden, Jinnie. It feels much better already!”
She insisted on staying in his room that night, sharing a cot with Mishia, and when Mieka came in the next morning, he found her curled up beside Jez like a drowsing puppy.
His mother, who sat at the window sorting Mistress Mirdley’s doses of medicine, smiled. “I keep wondering,” she said softly, so as not to wake them, “how you ever managed to produce anything so sweet as that child.”
“Mum! I was just as adorable at her age!”
“Actually,” she mused, “you were. What in all Hells happened?”
He grinned and betook himself downstairs, intending to take breakfast up to his wife. They’d spent the night in separate rooms so she could recover from the drive. Only two more nights with her, he reminded himself, before several long months of separation. And this time, he thought with a wince, he really would have to behave himself. Month after month of celibacy … it didn’t bear thinking about.
The spring sojourn in Lilyleaf came about because Mieka had been a very, very,
very
bad boy. From last year’s Royal Circuit he had brought home toys for Jindra, a beautiful fur capelet for his mother-in-law, and, among other things, a case of the pox for his wife. Auntie Brishen had been applied to when his own affliction manifested itself most unpleasantly during Touchstone’s giggings at Castle Biding. The cure had come by special courier (with a hefty bill and an admonition to keep his pants buttoned), and he’d thought he was over it by the time he got home. That he wasn’t had become clear that autumn in ways equally unpleasant for his wife. Again Auntie Brishen was consulted, and again she had provided (for an even heftier fee, and with her solemn promise to tell his mother if it ever happened again).
Having broken one of his own rules—that it mattered for naught what a man did when he was away from his wife so long as he didn’t bring home anything nasty—he made up for it the only way he knew how. They’d never had a real wedding trip, so in early spring when the roads were passable, he borrowed Lord Kearney Fairwalk’s second-best carriage (complete with groom to drive and look after the horses) and took his wife to Lilyleaf for a month of pampering. He did whatever she wanted and bought her anything she fancied. He accompanied her to shops and escorted her to public balls—and private ones, too, for once it was known that the most outrageous member of Touchstone was taking a holiday in Lilyleaf, the rich or titled or both were eager for the now-legendary diversions of Mieka’s presence. That he had a beautiful wife was almost consolation for the fact that he behaved himself perfectly. On mild days he took her for long drives in the countryside or partnered her at bowls on a green with only a few really muddy patches. He found something harmless and boring to do while she went to the baths. He didn’t drink more than a single ale or glass of wine each day. He left his thorn-roll at home. They stayed at Croodle’s inn, and every so often he caught a sardonic glint in her black eyes for the impeccable picture of sober husbandly virtue he presented. He had the feeling she knew the reason for it.
Mieka was able to take a whole month on holiday because of four things.
First,
Similar Books
