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“But he should.”
“Yes, he should,” said Arlington, looking back at the music. “It’s a shame not to share such work.”
“Poor Minette,” said Josephine. “It’s difficult when you don’t agree with your husband. I also believe he ought to share his talents with the world, and perhaps one day you can convince him to do so. That’s what makes a good marriage, you know—looking out for your partner and helping them become the most whole and full person they can be.”
Warren sat on Josephine’s other side and caught her in an embrace. “I’ve made you whole and full, haven’t I?” he joked, smoothing a hand over her rounded belly. Josephine grinned back at him, her cheeks going pink in a spreading blush.
The two of them were so in love, Minette could hardly bear to look at them. Even Arlington, the rakish bachelor, seemed charmed by their display.
Please, Minette thought. Please let August love me this way too. Someday. Some way. Let him make me whole and full, and let me make him happy.
God, yes. Happy most of all.
*** *** ***
Minette arrived home in a vexing state of delight mixed with devastation. She was delighted that she’d had a wonderful evening with her brother and her sister-in-law, and that Arlington had been kind enough to play some of August’s concerto before he headed off.
She was devastated because August’s music was even more beautiful than she’d imagined it would be.
Nothing seemed right in her life, although she ought to be happy. Why, she might be Lord Barrymore, dying of a horrible, painful disease that had rendered him insane. She might be Lady Barrymore, about to lose her husband. She might be August, about to lose his father, and married to an annoying wife. How selfish she was, to feel sad when everyone around her was suffering so much.
She must go to her husband and see how his evening had gone with Lady Barrymore, and inquire how his father fared, but first she must replace the music she’d taken before it was missed. She made her way to the study, the folio tucked securely beneath her cloak. She pushed open the door, finding the fire low and the desk empty. Thank goodness. She scurried over to the cabinet, opening the correct drawer and putting the music back exactly the way she’d found it.
“Minette.”
She froze. August’s voice drew out her name’s two syllables in exasperation. She turned to find him frowning at her from a couch against the far wall.
“Why did you have my music with you?” he asked. “Why did you take it from this room without my permission?”
“Well... I was only...” Think, Minette. “I thought... I was going to look through it and perhaps find a passage I was capable of playing.”
“You’ve been away all evening.”
“I was going to...try to...play it at my brother’s.”
He looked at her in a very hard way. “I know you took it to your brother’s, and I know you showed it to all of them. Arlington came to see me afterward. Imagine my surprise when he told me he’d just played some of my work.”
“He did a very good job of it. Not a perfect job. He said he was out of practice, but I still thought it sounded wonderful.”
“Oh, he had plenty to say about how wonderful it was, and how I ought to sell it to the music publishers, and put on concerts, and other such nonsense that sounded a lot like something you would say.”
“None of it’s nonsense,” she said, sticking out her chin. “I knew you would never show them, and so I thought I had better do it for you.”
“You thought that, did you?” he asked in a low and frightening voice. He stood and crossed his arms over his chest. “Even after I warned you to leave it alone?”
“You didn’t really say so, did you? Not in so many words.”
“Come here.” His voice sounded very sharp now. Minette edged instead toward the door.
“I didn’t mean any harm,” she insisted. “I was trying to make you happier.”
“Happier? You know what would make me happier, Minette? A wife who obeys me. A wife who doesn’t lie and sneak about and go expressly against my wishes in order to do whatever she pleases. A wife who doesn’t visit courtesans or browse my friend’s lurid book collection or steal my music to show others. A wife who doesn’t run from me!”
Minette nearly made it out of the room before he grabbed her and hauled her back. He kicked the door shut with a resounding bang and pulled her over to the couch.
“I’m sure you won’t wish to punish me in such a tumultuous mood,” she said, struggling to remain upright.
If only he were not so much stronger than her. He bent her over his lap and gathered up her skirts before she could catch a breath, much less plead her case.
“You wish me in a less tumultuous mood?” he asked, corralling her arms behind her back. “You’re fortunate you weren’t here earlier, when Arlington visited and rang a peal over my head. Why didn’t you tell us? Why aren’t you in the concert halls? Why don’t you hold a recital next season at my house?”
“I think that sounds like a wonderful idea.”
August must not have agreed. He commenced to punish her bottom with a series of stinging spanks. “It is not a wonderful idea,” he said. “I told you very clearly my music is private. If I wished to share it with Arlington and the Warrens, and all of bloody London, then I would have. But I haven’t, have I? And I doubt I ever will.” As he lectured, he spanked her again and again, sharp, firm cracks on either cheek.
“You are not being fair,” Minette cried.
“I’m being entirely fair. You’ve behaved poorly and disobeyed me—again. How many times is it now?”
“But I only wanted—oww! I was only trying to do a good thing, so I think it is very cruel of you to punish me for it.” He disregarded her pleas and dealt her a firm blow to the underside of her bottom. “Ow! Oh, please!”
She tried to shield herself but he caught her hand and held it in an unforgiving grip. “If you don’t wish to be punished,” he said, “then the solution is simple. Learn to obey me.”
“Ow! Please, I hate that you are doing this to me when I only meant to do a thoughtful thing for you. You’re not being fair. You’re not listening to me.”
“On the contrary, I think you’re not listening to me.” He righted her and set her before him, grasping her wrist when she tried to pull away.
“I meant to help! I was p-proud of you!” She forced the words out between sobs and tears. “I love you and I’ll keep doing whatever my love prompts me to do. I don’t care if you spank me a million times for it. I don’t care if all you do is spank me for the rest of our lives. If that’s all you’ll give me, then that’s what our marriage shall be. I shall do what I think is best and you can spank me forever if it suits you. I don’t care!”
“I’m not going to spank you forever,” he said, giving her a shake. “At some point I’m going to take you back to Oxfordshire and leave you there.”
She slapped him. Hard. She hadn’t meant to. In fact, she’d never slapped a man in her life, but she slapped August with tremendous force across his cheek and shouted, “Why won’t you love me?”
/>
He let her go, and she backed away from him, shocked by her own behavior. He scowled at her, holding a hand to his face. She felt as if she were falling to pieces. Tears flowed from her eyes, tears of endless angst and frustration. “Don’t look at me like that,” she shouted. “I’ve tried and tried, but no matter what I do, you look at me in that awful, damning way. It is very hard not to be accepted and loved for who you are. I’m your wife, and you won’t touch me. Your mother won’t call me by my name. You friends think I am ridiculous, a mere girl whom you were foolish to marry. I suppose you wish you had married perfect Lady Priscilla, but I cannot wish the same. I don’t care if you hate me. I still want you.” Her voice broke as he glared at her. She could see the red marks of her fingers on his cheek. “I will always want you. I suppose that is the most depressing thing of all.”
“Why will you not understand?” he yelled back. “I don’t hate you. I’m trying to protect you.”
“From who?”
“From yourself! From your misguided efforts to court my affections. You don’t know the sort of man I am, not really. You see me as this figure of fantasy, this hero who doesn’t exist. You don’t know my darkness, my failures. You don’t know the things I want to do to your body, the ways I want to possess you. You don’t want me, Minette, I promise.”
“Yes, I do.”
He turned from her and strode toward the door.
“Don’t leave me.” Her anguished plea echoed off the walls. Minette could talk to anyone about anything, but she couldn’t think what to say to make him stay with her. There were no polite and cheerful words to heal this agonizing rift.
“Please stay,” she cried. “Please kiss me. Please hurt me. Spank me if you must, but don’t make me live this way, cold and alone, when I am married to the man I love most on earth. And I do love you, Method Randolph. Do not dare say that I am childish and young, and that I don’t know, and that I don’t understand. I understand everything.”
