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“Ah, be done with you, bitches,” he snarled as he waved her off.
The second woman pulled from bed, coming to the Lord and wrapping her body about his with her hand resting on the soft package of his scrotum. “Milord, we were just about to…”
He shook her off. “Out of here, all of you!”
“Husband, please,” Charlotte fell to her knees at his feet and looked up at him wantingly. “Hear me out, please.”
“Get on!” he snapped. It wasn’t clear who he was yelling at, his whores or his wife. The two nymphs in his bed scampered out the door, tittering as they went. They had little reason to fear, but they could sense a fight was brewing and were not about to take the shock of it themselves. They left Lady Charlotte to fend for herself with the grim-faced man. “And why do you remain?” he smoldered, still disgruntled.
“Because I must have you listen.”
“And why would I do that?”
“Because you once cared for me. Because we shared a great physical feast. It was only when our passions dwindled that I found comfort elsewhere, just as you did. Time was not a good companion in our union.”
“Actually, I’ve rather enjoyed knowing that you suffered these months.”
“But you have suffered, too. Look at you.”
“How so?”
“Your face, your brow. There is little mirth in you now. Even your mockery falls flat for lack of inspiration.” She eyed him somewhat cautiously thinking she might just be breaking down his grumpy exterior. “You have lost your wit, sir.”
“Indeed not!”
“Indeed so, sir. I only say this because of the melancholy that pours from you.”
He scowled.
“I know what passes—or doesn’t pass between us weighs heavily on you, despite what airs you adopt to cover your gloom. You may be the sadist that you claim, but you are also human. There is a spirit in you that seeks other things than the pursuit of this terror. I do believe it is so. Your face alone speaks so persuasively of your inner heart. Tell me it is not so.”
He scowled still, but less offensively. Perhaps his mood was easing. He paced the room, obviously troubled now, then strode to her again as she sat meekly waiting for him to speak. “Perhaps you speak the truth.”
Charlotte was surprised to hear these words, having expected that he’d deny her once again. Her heart gladdened, but she was cautious. “I believe I do,” she answered him. “Whip me if I lie, but if I am seeing what is true, there is something curious in your guise; something in your heart, perhaps?”
“Yes. I think so,” he agreed more directly.
“Then confess to me? Perhaps I can help you.”
“Help me?” He nurtured the thought for some seconds while Charlotte watched the expression on his face transform from puzzlement to inspiration. “Yes, perhaps you can…” he paused, letting the thought settle, “and even earn what you so desire.”
“How so, husband?”
Mountbane stared at her while making his decision. She could see the conversation in his brain: how one side warred against such intimate disclosure, while the other demanded this revelation. To wait was miserable, and even if he were to divulge his secret, there was no certainty that it would mean any change in Charlotte’s life. Still, this was better news than anything she’d heard in months.
“I aspire to win the heart of a woman,” Mountbane finally announced, almost as if he were embarrassed.
“Ah, sir, and who is this woman?”
“The maid Rosaura.”
“She is the intended of Sir Leonas?”
“Yes, she is. But I would have her.”
“You can take her as you desire, sir. That is your right.”
“Of course, but that is not what I want this time.”
