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“I have not seen them yet.” He folded the paper on the table. “And Doctor Morrison is in their manor. I would like to see if he made progress with your father.” He dressed informal clothes that would allow him more comfort during his day around the lands. He looked no less attractive for those, she mused as her eyes appreciated him.
She did not forecast how her parents would react to his presence. Her mother did not tire of pointing all Conrad’s flaws every time she visited them. “My mother sent news saying they work hard on it every day.”
“Yes.” His dark eyes found hers, sending a between-the-lines message which had nothing to do with their conversation. “Samuel has been keeping me informed.”
Awe overtook her. She did not count on him pursuing the state of his affairs with such attention. Mindfulness had never been his trait. “How considerate of him.” She commented simply.
“Perhaps we can visit this afternoon.” He insisted.
She would not be able to avoid their encounter even if she tried. He had been back for weeks. As many weeks she had not seen her parents, so busy she had been with her routine and him. Besides, she had yet to give them her latest news.
“I suppose so.” She agreed.
He left shortly after breakfast.
Her mind hammered what Bennett said before he departed. His piece of advice sounded definitely reasonable. Albeit her mind resisted his arguments and her heart outflanked it forceful. Fear stood in the forefront. Conrad never asked for a second chance, by the way. Which got her to conclude her frets useless at any rate.
The situation they lived in, however, proved to be an integrally grey zone. They accomplished his requirement to produce an heir. Still, they extended their… physical encounters, including the use of only one bed during the night. (She did not even want to think about what the servants’ gossip might be). He insisted he had changed his ways, but avoided talking about the future, if they envisioned one. He refused to go to London on the grounds he wanted to be present during her term. Would he leave for London after her confinement, she wondered? He would have no reason to stay, unless to “make” a spare, after the heir, counting on her child being a boy, that is. She did not conjecture what to expect. She tried to expect nothing, assured she would be disappointed.
At present, she undertook less to do and more time to muse. She did not regard it as positive since only one person exclusively lived in her mind. The realisation froze her. He monopolised her focus, whether they were positive or negative. He monopolised her… cravings, her expectations when night fell. And her delight in the morning cosiness. Goodness gracious! He would occupy every corner of her life if she did not take care. He never gave her attention during their marriage; she did not learn how to deal with it now. How could she stop it? She would not be able to avoid this situation until the end of her confinement. It lay months in the future!
The best to do was to take it as it came; or else she would go crazy! She left the morning room in search of her daily chores.
Conrad surveyed the landscape from his horse. He had never noticed the beauty of it. In full bloom, the shades of green mixed with the open sky. The work which had been filling his days made him acquire a feeling of accomplishment that the end-of-the-day tiredness endorsed. Meeting the people, working together, acknowledging their challenges and helping to overcome these gave him a sense of duty fulfilled he had never experienced in his life.
The work he did since he arrived made him feel good. At that moment, though, he kept track of everyday routines, what should be done, what started and finished. Contentment invaded him, with his labour, his lands, his inheritance. His life. Everything coloured b
y one person and one person only. His wife. Without her, life would taste like sand. She gave him purpose. Meaning. Soon she would give him their child, whom, he would make sure, loved their heritage.
He did not want the next generation to conjecture they had a dull obligation towards the title as his father had done. He wanted to transmit this… pleasure of the small daily blisses that made life whole.
“My lord.” Coleman awoke him from his reveries. “See there, the bull that went missing?”
“Yes, Coleman.” He looked at the direction the steward pointed.
“The lads are going to herd it back to our pastures.” He hesitated for a few seconds.
“What is it, Coleman?” Conrad encouraged.
“In cases like this, Lady Strafford likes to call in the veterinarian preventively.” He started. “The bull spent a week out of our sight. It could have taken a bug.”
Conrad nodded. Sensible Viscountess, he concluded proud. “Let’s do it, then.” He replied, seeing how important it was to protect the cattle from a plague.
Coleman bowed his head and rode to the ox.
As the carriage jolted through the country lane, Conrad and Aurelia sat in front of each other in silence. He returned to the manor to pick her up and the carriage to go to his in-laws. She looked more than beautiful today in a rosy day dress which illuminated her perfect skin. The design highlighted her full breasts, made fuller by her state. He turned his stare to the window for fear of having… ideas in the middle of a country lane. Which reminded him of the night they came back from the dance at the fair. Said night had ended very… deliciously.
The weather held since morning and a mild sun painted the green landscape with vivid colours.
He changed into black breeches, a white shirt and black riding coat to visit the in-laws he had met only a couple of times. He did not consider how they would receive him and, frankly, did not care much. What he cared most about was his wife’s opinion of him, of which he learned a great deal already. His attention drifted inside the carriage and encountered her eyes on him. She perused him with a certain… avidity he found difficult to ignore. He held her gaze, as they embarked on a surreptitious communication suffused with meaning, emotional and otherwise. If he continued staring at her, he might lose his sense of decency. So, he diverted his eyes.
“Why did you marry me, after all?” Came her close-range shot of a question.
His dark eyes snapped to hers, and their attention hooked on each other for more long instants.
“My father had been pressing me to marry for years.” There remained no pride in the explanation, he realised. “When I did not comply, he threatened me with disinheritance.” How he wished his parents were still alive, so he could apologise for his mistakes.
“I came to the conclusion that any woman would do years ago.” She revealed. “But why me specifically?” She reformulated.
