Page 63 of The Favourite

Jane blinked up at him. “Morning,” she mumbled and glanced across at the window before her eyes came to rest back on him in faint confusion. It seemed that Jane did not wake of a morn with her wits altogether intact. For some reason, he found his lips quirking up at this discovery. Really, he should release her hand at this point, but finding her so passive, he kept hold of it.

“It would please me greatly if you would confine yourself to our rooms for the next few days,” he remarked, playing absently with her fingers.

Her brow puckered. “Why?”

“Because, I have a fantastic debut planned for my viscountess, and it involves your new wardrobe. Besides,” he said shrugging, “we need to build the mystery and anticipation of the moment. Court has been very dull without us, and we need to capitalize on the opportunity. Everyone will be positively agog to see how we deal together.”

At this, she looked unenthusiastic, so he decided to try a different tack. “It will also be an opportunity for you to accustom yourself to motherhood,” he said slyly, “and to keep a close eye as our household adjusts. I do not want anyone upsetting Robert, and by anyone, I mean, of course, that barbed-tongued servant of yours.”

She colored slightly at this. “Ayleth,” she muttered.

“Precisely.” Jane started fidgeting, so he released her fingers.

“What of you?” she asked, her gaze flickering over his apparel. “You are going about, it seems.”

“Yes,” he admitted, holding out his arms so she could appreciate his embroidered sleeves. “This tunic demands an audience; you must agree.” Seeing her pinched look, he relented. “I also have some official duties to discharge.”

“Oh.”

“You slept well,” he remarked. He should likely leave it at that, but he could not resist following it up. “Is your sleep always so unbroken, or did I wear you out with my attentions?”

Jane cleared her throat. “I am usually a sound sleeper,” she answered matter-of-factly. “The nightmare I suffered at Kinnerton was not typical for me. I suppose I have simply grown used to you being there.”

“And what of the excessive clinging?” he added straight-faced. “Is that something I must accustom myself to?”

“I beg your pardon?” she asked with dawning horror. “Did I—?”

He shrugged. “I will own, it was a little constricting, but mayhap with time I will grow accustomed to it.”

Jane colored vividly. “I-I hardly know what to say, my lord,” she stammered, looking appalled.

He had to work hard to keep the laughter at bay, but he just about managed it. “Pray do not trouble yourself on my account.”

Her hand flew to her throat, and he wondered if she was covering up her flush there. He had to squash the impulse to move her hand away and take a look for himself. If he did so, he would never make his first appointment of the day. “I take my leave of you then, my lady,” he said instead with exaggerated civility.

“Er, yes,” Jane responded, clearly thrown by his formal manners when she remained abed in her shift. “I trust your day goes well, my lord,” she managed.

This time, his wayward smile would not be quelled. He nodded. “I will send Ayleth in to attend you,” was his parting shot, and with that he quit their rooms and sallied forth on official business.

It was not until four hours later that he returned to their apartment. He had not actually intended to return until late afternoon, then he had started making excuses for himself. Hubair had been tiresome and difficult to appease. He deserved some respite after such a trying time.

He found Jane sat before the fire with Bertrand in her lap. Anne was sat in a nearby chair with Celestia and Robert hovering in attendance.

“My lord!” Robert was startled. “I did not expect you back until suppertime.”

“’Tis of no great matter,” he assured his manservant. It was not typically his habit to return at midday, though he would rather this was not brought to Jane’s attention. Luckily, she was preoccupied, wiping some dribble from Bertrand’s chin.

“Oh, you are returned, my lord,” she said on catching sight of him. “Can you pass me that square of linen?” He turned and passed her the item, and she mopped up Bertrand’s drool. “Apparently, he has teeth emerging from his gums,” she confided, looking slightly queasy.

“Oh, really?” he responded politely, perching on the arm of her seat.

Jane shot a look at their nursemaid. “Is that not so, Anne?” she appealed.

“That’s right, milady. You just prize his mouth open; you’ll soon see.”

He and Jane exchanged glances, clearly communicating that neither of them desired to stick their fingers in Bertrand’s mouth. Mercifully, Anne did not seem offended they did not take up her offer. “Me old Mum said as how I should ease them through with the application of butter.” She continued comfortably, “But ‘er Mum always said as it should be dog’s milk, by rights.”

“Dog’s milk?” Alisander repeated, lifting his brows. “How positively barbaric. For the dog, I mean.” Jane sent him a disapproving look.