Page 137 of The Language of Love

He came to her every night and gave her as much physical joy as he ever had, teaching her new and exciting ways of pleasuring each other.

While they spent very little time together during the day, that was the result of exigency rather than any desire to avoid each other’s company.

Henry was working hard to get the house and estate in order before winter was upon them. For Annis, there was the refurbishment of Stoke, repairing the succession houses, and the seemingly unending preparations for the Feast of St. Oswald.

So, yes, they were both terribly busy.

And if there was perhaps a little more reserve in Henry’s attitude toward her than during those first few days of their marriage, that was understandable, as he was living among people he deeply disliked.

Julia and Edmund, also, had changed in their behavior. Both had cast aside their polite veneers, and neither made any effort to mask their loathing of Henry.

It overjoyed Annis that the Dower House would be ready for occupation right after the celebration feast, barely a week hence. While Annis got along well with Julia, she did not like the effect the other woman’s presence had on Henry.

Not that Julia planned to inhabit her new house for long.

“I shall join a school friend in Paris who has kindly invited me to visit for as long as I like,” Julia announced at dinner a few nights before.

“Funny that you’ve never mentioned this friend before, dear Julia,” Edmund had sniped.

And that was another thing. Edmund and Julia fought with each other just as much as both of them tried to fight with Henry.

Annis had been relieved to hear that Julia was going on an extended trip. Why Henry insisted on setting her up so close to Stoke, she did not know. By now, she’d discovered that his wealth was far beyond what she had expected. Like his distant forbearers, his shipping empire was one of the largest in Britain. He could easily afford to house Julia in York—or even London—somewhere she would have been far happier and out of their way.

Unfortunately, Annis did not feel that she had the right to interfere in his family business, so she kept her tongue behind her teeth.

And then there was Edmund.

Annis had initially believed that forcing Edmund to truncate the lease on his property was both unkind and unnecessary. But three weeks spent in proximity to her husband’s heir had convinced her that a life of leisure was deleterious for Edmund.

Running his own estate would give him a reason to get up in the morning—not at two or three o’clock in the afternoon. He drank copiously at dinner and Annis knew, from talking to Grace, that he went to the village most nights to carouse in the tiny pub.

Each day Edmund became more belligerent toward Henry.

Each day Henry became colder, more supercilious, and more detached.

Each day the atmosphere of simmering violence left her feeling more anxious.

The sooner Edmund was gone, the better.

“Quit thinking about them,” Annis muttered under her breath as she hurried toward the vicarage. Henry preferred that she took either the gig or ride the fine little mare he’d bought for her, but Annis loved walking and missed the long jaunts she’d had in London.

As for bringing a servant with her, she did not like to be bothered with waiting while Grace dawdled or worrying about making a footman wait if she dawdled.

Truth be told, Annis needed a little time on her own. She had never lived with so many people—most of whom were there to serve her—as she did now. It oppressed her to keep so many servants busy and directed, so she enjoyed these half-hour walks by herself.

The vicar and his wife, Mrs. Townshend, behaved as if Annis were royalty when they saw her.

“Would you like tea, my lady?” Mrs. Townshend fluttered around in a way that made Annis feel anxious and guilty for causing such a fuss.

“I’m afraid I can’t stay. I just stopped to deliver your invitation to the St. Oswald dinner.”

Mrs. Townshend did more fluttering. “Oh goodness, personal delivery! What an honor.”

And so forth.

Annis could only leave with the excuse that she needed to get to the mercantile before it closed. Even then, it wasn’t easy.

“Why, Mrs. Coleman would be happy to open up for you if she is closed,” the vicar said.