James had lived with women all his life, so he knew when one of them was in a bad mood. Even in his tired state, he could tell from the moment he set eyes on her that Leah wasn’t happy.
It was the end of a long, tiring day, and he ached all over. He and Francis had spent hours moving crates of wine from a recently arrived shipment. The stairs at Saunders Shipping were steep and his back was still twinging from lugging the heavy boxes. While his official job was to work the ledgers, whenever the office was shorthanded, everyone was press-ganged into service.
All he wanted to do as soon as he got home was to kiss his wife and find his supper. He was exhausted. But he knew once he had eaten, he had at least three hours of painting ahead of him before he finally found the blessed relief of his and Leah’s bed.
His first attempt at kissing Leah was rebuffed. She turned her head away and his kiss landed awkwardly on the side of her neck. When he made a second attempt, she pushed him aside.
“My love?”
“Don’t you ‘my love’ me—today has been an unmitigated disaster,” she replied.
He had been about to enquire as to how the visit with her mother and sister had gone, but here he had his answer. He waited, unsure of what to say, or whether he should say anything. From the look on Leah’s face, he had a horrible feeling that no matter what he said he was going to be on the receiving end of a good ticking-off from his wife.
“Are you going to ask me how the visit with my mother and sister went, or do you not care?” she said.
James had seen his father and mother conduct an argument enough times to know that the best thing he could do at this moment was to accept whatever punishment was coming his way. He held out a hand to her, and after giving him a filthy look, Leah took it.
“Tell me how things went with your mother, and what I can do to make you happy,” he said, pulling her into his arms.
“She said the house was a mess. She refused to stay for tea and cake because she claimed that the house stank so much it gave her a headache. She said it was my fault for letting you take over the drawing room. And worst of all, she was right.”
He met her gaze. “I said I would try and keep the studio tidier, and I will, I promise. Apart from opening a window or two, there is not much I can do about the smell of the paint. You know I have to work somewhere.”
His painting was his path to a real career, his life’s passion. The work had to be completed.
The hard set of her jaw did not soften at his words. Instead, she pursed her lips and began to slowly shake her head. The wordnowas written all over her face.
“You need to move your paintings out of the house. There is a wooden shed in the garden which you can use. It will be just like using the cottage at Mopus Manor. I checked it this afternoon. It will hold the two main pieces you are working on, along with the rest of your finished paintings. All your other clean canvasses and dry paint can be stored downstairs in the house,” she said.
“No. I need the light and space of the drawing room,” he replied, adamant in his resolve.
“And I need the drawing room. How do you expect me to establish myself as a respectable married woman if I cannot entertain at home?” she replied.
He released Leah’s hand and started to walk away. He was hungry and tired. There was no point in continuing the argument.
He turned his back on her, and immediately knew he had made a grave mistake.
“Don’t you turn your back on me, James Radley! We are not finished!” bellowed Leah.
He sighed. “Leah, my love. I have had the devil of a day. We can talk about this tomorrow.”
She grabbed a hold of his jacket sleeve. “We will talk about this now, or you can go and sleep in the other room tonight.”
If there was one thing James did not take kindly to, it was threats of any kind. He could accept that Leah was angry, and he was out of sorts with her at this very moment, but her telling him that they would be sleeping apart was not something he would tolerate.
“I am not moving my paintings out of the house. I have to work on theDerbyshire Twinsin the drawing room. If I work in the garden shed, it will be cramped and cold. It is nothing like the cottage in Cornwall; it doesn’t get any real sunlight,” he replied.
Her eyes were ablaze with rage.
“You need to move them,” she said.
He understood why she was angry; she had been humiliated by her mother. Her family were rejecting their marriage, and her father was taking his time with handing over her dowry. But moving his paintings out of the house would not solve any of those problems. And even if he did, he was certain that her mother would find another way to make Leah feel unworthy.
From the look of grim determination on her face, he could tell Leah was not about to change her mind. Whether she realized it or not, she had found every single one of his pain points and then pushed hard on them. His simmering anger boiled over.
James threw up his hands.
“Alright! I will move them. But if I catch my death of cold from working out in the garden all day, you only have yourself to blame. I hope you will enjoy your penniless widowhood. If I had known you would resent my chosen calling, then I would have had second thoughts in offering to marry you. Perhaps I should have dragged you back to the church and had you marry Guy. At least his fancy house does not smell of paint!”
