Every word was treasured.
For the first time in their married life, he finally understood what the vow meant to honor someone with your body, because they told each other that irrefutable truth over and over again with every single kiss. Every single caress. Every relieved and grateful sigh.
Before he pushed his body inside hers, however, he wanted to be sure before he gave all of himself to her and potentially closed off her last escape route. “Can I come inside you, Portia?”
“Yes.” She sighed that as she smiled against his lips. “As much as it surprises me to say it, or how much the consequences of it were never something I ever considered before you swooped in and flummoxed me, I would like that very much.”
Chapter
THIRTY-FIVE
Leo had quite the spring in his step when they ventured downstairs several hours later. The world brighter and his heart so full it was fit to burst. Better still, his head finally seemed like his own once more. Thanks to the marvelous distraction of Portia, he hadn’t worried about a damn thing all week and, now that he had conquered those intrusive demons that had plagued him for weeks, he felt lighter too. In fact, with all his worries gone, everything in his garden was rosy and he couldn’t have been happier about it.
He escorted his wife—the love of his life—to the drawing room where the rest of his womenfolk were sequestered and then went to leave. An intention that incurred the wrath of his mother.
“Where do you think you are going when dinner is in less than ten minutes?”
“I just have a few accounts to sign off.”
“Can’t they wait until tomorrow seeing as you have postponed our leaving.”
“Not really. Portia is insistent that I shout into the wind tomorrow afternoon and that futile chore is bound to overrun.”
“By that,” said his lovely, passionate wife with a roll of her eyes, “He means that he is attending an important debate in the Houseof Lords tomorrow to support Earl Gray’s latest reform bill, and he doesn’t know when it will end.”
The mere mention of the reforming Gray started Abigail off, so he left her and Portia discussing the many injustices that the government needed to fix and headed to his study.
Thanks to his ardent quest to woo his wife, he had barely visited his study all week, so he wasn’t surprised to see the neat pile of post waiting for him on his desk. He did a quick flick through, separating out all the bills so that he could arrange to have them paid, and tossing all the Mayfair invitations on the fire seeing as they were imminently headed home to Bath ready to start their new life together proper as man and wife. He almost put his regular weekly copy ofEquitasto one side so that he could read it on the long journey home, but paused. Wondering why the hell he had still neglected to yet mention to Portia that he had subscribed to her beloved seditious rag for years, as had his father before him? It was hardly a state secret after all, and now that they were being completely honest with each other and no longer kept secrets, holding something so unimportant back seemed daft.
He snatched it up, curious to see if the new printing press he had bought them had improved the look of it, and cracked the seal to unfold it. Then grinned because Mr. Walker’s superior machine had indeed made it look crisper and cleaner and somehow more professional, and he knew that would delight his lovely wife.
The headlines especially, really stood out. His gaze automatically went to the opinion piece first.
Does the government’s suppression of dissent really work?The headline asked in true Portia fashion and he experienced a sense of pride thatEquitashad decided to continue writing that bold first column like an essay the way his clever wife used to.
But then he started to read it, and his blood ran cold as there was only one pen that wrote with such aplomb.
Two years ago, when a peaceful but large protest gathered in St. Peter’s Field in Lancashire asking forparliamentary reforms, the embarrassed government sent the army in to break it up. It turned into a senseless bloodbath that has haunted all of us since. Instead of learning from that tragic mistake and making some concessions, the government instead set about tightening all the laws suppressing anything that it sees as a threat to its power and imposed harsh penalties on anyone who dared challenge the status quo. I am sure that they believed that was the best way forward at the time; however, as time marches on, instead of preventing another bloodbath, I would argue that all that they have succeeded in doing is making another Peterloo Massacre inevitable.
As his hair follicles twitched in preparation of standing on end at the mention of the Peterloo Massacre, Leo felt himself spiral into the all-consuming anger, fear, and blind panic that he had hoped and prayed he was done with.
He sucked in a calming breath and tried to be rational.
They were just words.
Truthful words.
Compelling words because she had such a way with them.
This was who she was. What she did.
Her essence. As much a part of her as her beautiful smile and bold personality. Her heart and soul. Everything he loved so much about his wonderful, unconventional duchess.
This behavior wasn’t rational. And it wasn’t him, dammit! At least not the usual him. Just because she had written another article did not mean that she had snuck out of the house and crossed the city alone in the small hours, for goodness’ sake. She hadn’t been attacked by a villain in the shadows any more than she had been at that tragic Peterloo protest, so he shouldn’t allow his imagination to run riot like this.
For a moment, the tight bands of fear around his chest eased atthat logic. Then all at once they constricted tighter as a vivid image appeared in his mind that was so real it merged into his reality. Of Portia’s limp body being carried home. Covered in blood caused by an overzealous soldier’s sharp sword.
Breathless.
