Page 44 of Secrets of the Marriage Bed
‘It came as a surprise to us, too,’ Julia said, wishing she did not sound quite so defensive.
She winced as the other woman’s eyes narrowed and fell to her waist. She barely prevented herself from clutching her hands across her stomach.
The Dowager lifted her cup in toast. ‘To the happy couple, then.’
Julia took another sip of refreshing tea. ‘Thank you.’ She put her cup down. ‘We met your other son, Lord Luke, when we were out riding yesterday.’
Her face lit up. ‘Luke. Such a dear boy and so good to his mother. It is too bad...’ She sighed.
‘You and my husband do not get along well.’
‘I do not know why. I did everything I could when I first married his father.’ Another sigh. ‘Alistair did not take to me once Luke came along. Sibling jealousy, I suppose. Like father, like son. The old Duke also had little warmth in him, though one must not speak ill of the dead. I did my best to be a mother to Alistair despite the way he pushed me away.’
The Dowager reached for the teapot. ‘Do drink your tea before it is cold.’
Julia bit back the urge to remind the Dowager that this was her house now. It must be difficult to find oneself replaced.
‘Foolish boy, he resented his father marrying again,’ the Dowager said sorrowfully. ‘He can be shockingly nipfarthing. He hates spending a guinea on anyone but himself.’ Narrow-eyed, she glanced at Julia over the rim of her cup. ‘He won’t even have the dower house made ready for me. Instead I am forced to squander my small portion on renting a house in town.’
Somehow this part of her description of Alistair did not ring true. Cold as a winter’s frost he might sometimes be, but he had been generous to a fault in every other regard. ‘The dower house?’
‘On the outskirts of Sackfield. It is quite unfit for habitation. If I could live there, I would be able to see my grandsons more often. Luke has no room for me in his tiny cottage. And that is a disgrace, too—his father would have been most displeased. Alistair’s lack of family feeling...’ She closed her eyes. ‘Forgive me. I should not speak ill of your husband and you so newly married.’
It seemed Alistair did not treat his family at all well. It wasn’t the first time she had noticed his lack of familial feeling. ‘I am not sure how I can be of assistance.’
The Dowager drew her handkerchief from her reticule and dabbed at her eyes. ‘Foolish of me. I do beg your pardon. But perhaps a word with your husband...’
‘I will try.’ She sipped at her tea, embarrassed by the woman’s show of distress.
The woman tucked her handkerchief away with a frown and a piercing look at Julia. ‘And what about you?’ She cocked her head on one side. ‘You look a little pale. You should get out in the fresh air, my dear, instead of sitting indoors tiring your eyes.’
‘I have been a little unwell. The journey did not agree with me.’
The soft brown eyes sharpened. ‘You are not—’
‘No,’ Julia said. ‘No happy event expected as yet.’
Oddly, the Dowager seemed to relax. ‘I hope your husband is treating you as he should? Dunstan has a reputation for breaking hearts. Nor is he known for consideration or kindness.’ She paused as if waiting for Julia to speak. As if expecting Julia to gossip about her husband.
The Dowager’s voice lowered, she leaned closer. ‘If you ever need help, come to me.’
Alistair had been kind to her recently. And there was something about his stepmama that made her feel uncomfortable, yet the woman was being perfectly sweet.
The Dowager finished her tea and pulled on her gloves. ‘I really must not linger, I promised a friend I would call on her this morning, but I simply couldn’t resist the opportunity to meet you.’
And in a flurry of kisses beside each of Julia’s cheeks and mutterings about time, the Dowager departed, leaving Julia feeling strangely exhausted and in need of fresh air.
* * *
Alistair stared at the waterlogged field and its drowned crop. He turned to his steward. ‘I thought we agreed to clear the ditch.’
His steward glared at the red-faced tenant, Mollet. ‘I relayed your orders, Your Grace.’
‘And so he did, Your Grace, but see the trouble ain’t here. It’s run-off from Beauworth’s land. River’s choked.’
An excuse if ever he heard one. Mollet was lazy. Always had been. Thackerstone knew this. He turned to his steward. ‘Ask Beauworth’s man to take a look.’ That man would be Luke. He lowered his brow at the smug-looking Mollet. ‘Afteryoucheck the ditch.’ Beauworth would haul him over the coals if he started making false accusations.
Mollet removed his pipe from his mouth and spat.
