Page 43 of Counting on a Countess
Tamsyn went down to supper a short while later. As she suspected, Kit wasn’t in attendance.
“Where’s Lord Blakemere?” she asked a footman.
“He went out, my lady,” was the answer. “Didn’t say where or when he’d be back.”
Her feelings of celebration dimmed as she sat alone in the large dining room. The chamber seemed even more cavernous, occupied as it was by only her and a retinue of servants. Liam and Dennis were there, but neither of them winked or sent her a knowing look.
On her plate, she made neat piles of peas and potatoes, and aligned the fish so that it was perfectly horizontal.
I’ve gotten what I needed. The village is going to be safe. So why am I not happier?Beyond the money to buy the house, what she wanted, what she needed, was an inattentive husband. The more her spouse was away, the easier it would be to continue smuggling. It was a simple equation.
Yet her stomach was knotted as she barely ate her elegant supper.
She could solve one problem, but there were so many others to consider. Everything at home was in suspension, waiting for her return. There was a secret door leading to the caverns beneath Chei Owr, the same caverns where the smuggled merchandise was stored before buyers were secured. Tamsyn was the only one who had the key to that door, and it would remain locked until she came home.
She needed to get back to purchase the house from Jory. He was a suspicious man and wouldn’t agree to anything in a letter, so the transaction had to be done in person.
How long would it be before she was able to return? Kit had stated he wanted her to stay until she was with child. But at this rate, with him too stunned by their new arrangement, that would happen precisely never.
Further, if her nerves kept her out of his bed, that made the possibility of pregnancy nil. She was going to have to overcome her trepidation.
Kit might make sex feel good, but if she thought of it as merely a transaction she wouldn’t have to fear him damaging her heart. He would move on to his actresses and opera dancers while she kept Newcombe alive. Everyone got what they wanted.
Abruptly, she stood from the table. Solitary meals had a way of curtailing her appetite.
She wandered into the library and ran her fingers over the spines of the books on the shelves. It was such a luxury to have books, especially ones without mildewed pages. These volumes had come with the house, so they did not reflect Kit’s reading tastes. She didn’t know if he enjoyed books, or indeed, what gave him any pleasure. He liked to play cards and gamble and Lady Daleford had said he went to the theater often, as well.
Tamsyn wasn’t a child. She knew men met courtesans at theaters, or else chose a lover from the dancers and actresses.
Was Kit there now? Was he selecting a woman for the night—or was he already in her bed?
Despite her resolution, a cold burning lodged in her stomach. He’d said plainly that he wasn’t going to be faithful, and it seemed especially likely in the absence of consummating their marriage. But did it have to be sosoon?
To distract herself, she chose a book at random and sat down in one of the chairs by the fire. But a history of Roman London couldn’t hold her interest, not when pictures of Kit kissing an eager opera dancer kept flitting through her mind.
Exasperated, she left the library without returning the book to its shelf and went up to her bedchamber.
Nessa gossiped amiably about the other servants as she helped Tamsyn undress, but Tamsyn could only offer monosyllabic answers.
“Why aren’t you smiling?” Nessa asked. “Our troubles are over.”
Tamsyn shook her head ruefully.
“Ah, child,” her friend murmured. “You’re worried about that man of yours. I wouldn’t fuss overmuch about it. He’ll get used to the way of things.”
“If he does,” Tamsyn answered, “he’ll be in my pockets every moment. Men of fashion spend extravagantly. He’s supposedly one of the worst of them. Everyone said he goes through money as if it fell from the skies. And I’ll be the one bankrolling it—if there’s anything left over after purchasing Chei Owr.”
A thought struck her. If Kit wanted to keep a mistress, Tamsyn would have to approve the costs of that woman’s keeping. The house, the carriage, the clothes and jewels. All of it. In essence, she’d be paying another woman to sleep with her husband.
“God above,” she muttered. “What was Lord Somerby thinking?”
“He probably thought he was doing you both a favor.” Nessatsked. “If he loved his wife as he claimed, he didn’t think his lordship would go chasing after lightskirts. That Lord Somerby wanted the same kind of love for you both. With each other,” she added.
“That’s an impossibility,” Tamsyn answered. It could never come to pass, for so many reasons.
Nessa gasped. “I forgot to ask you—did his lordship treat you right in bed? I’m certain he made your first time agreeable.”
“He didn’t. That is to say,” she added quickly when her friend scowled, “we didn’t. Consummate the marriage.”
