Page 117 of The Language of Love

Chapter 20

By the time they rolled down the pitted, bumpy driveway that led to Stoke Castle, Annis was more than ready to get out of the carriage. As well-sprung and luxurious as it was, her bones were sore, and she was thoroughly sick of sitting for almost six solid days.

Fortunately, the last leg of the journey was such a short one that they would arrive at her new home while it was still daylight.

“The old place looks impressive—at least from a distance,” Henry had explained. “So, it’s worth getting your first look at it in the daylight.”

Henry had done small, considerate things like that throughout their journey—from assuring that she had the foods she liked best, to putting her in the nicest of the rooms that he’d secured at the inns, he’d done everything in his power to make her comfortable. Never before had anyone taken such care of her.

And then there were their evenings.

Although their journey had been more leisurely than most, she’d still been so tired after a day in the carriage that she could barely move.

Henry, whose strength and energy seemed boundless, had sent an outrider ahead to ensure a hot bath and tea tray awaited her at their nightly stops.

Later, after she’d rested and eaten dinner, he came to her bed and pleasured her into unconsciousness.

If their nights had been filled with dreamlike pleasure, their afternoons had been down-to-earth and delightful. They’d either conversed on a wide range of subjects, read, or played cards or chess—both of which Annis was a disaster at, but Henry didn’t seem to mind.

For the last few afternoons, she’d read to him from her current book, Waverley.

“I could become accustomed to this,” he’d said earlier that day, when she’d paused to rest her voice. “I hope you will continue to read to me when we are at Stoke.”

It had delighted Annis to hear he’d enjoyed her reading. As much as he read, it was always scientific journals or newspapers. She looked forward to initiating him into the world of fiction, which they could explore together.

“Only a few more minutes now.”

Annis looked up at the sound of Henry’s voice. He smiled at her. “You will get the best view on this side.” He gestured to the righthand window.

Annis put away her book and scooted closer to the window. “Oh, there is a village ahead.”

“Yes, it is Stokely, which actually sits on Rotherhithe land.”

The carriage slowed as they entered the tiny but picturesque village on the banks of a river.

“Oh, look, Henry!”

People were coming out of the shops and houses that bordered what Annis had assumed was the driveway to Stoke but must actually be the main road.

“They’ve come out to welcome us, Henry.” Annis waved at a woman who was holding a little girl in her arms, the child was waving so enthusiastically that her mother’s nose was in danger.

She looked at Henry when he didn’t answer. He was staring out the window with a mocking smirk—this one far more supercilious than any expression she’d ever seen on his face.

Annis lowered her hand. “Henry?”

He turned to her slowly, his eyes so cold they didn’t even look like his. “These people despised me even more than my relatives did. But now, it seems, all is forgotten. At least by them.”

Annis couldn’t bear his dead stare. She turned and looked out the window, instead, smiling and waving at the people—Henry’s people—although all the joy had gone out of the day.

***

Henry knew his words had shocked her.

He’d shocked even himself with his fury. But it felt like hardly a day had passed since he’d been here last. The Singleton Bastard people had called him. Or just the Bastard.

There had been a certain glee in the way the townsfolk had gone about tormenting him. Henry knew a large part of their enjoyment was because it was an opportunity to pick on one of the earl’s family without incurring any wrath.

And the villagers had taken advantage of that opportunity even more often than his cousins had. Even the adults had mocked and taunted him, and gangs of village boys had caught him more than once.