Liberty for Paul (8 page)

Chapter 9

Throughout the rest of Paul’s day he couldn’t quit thinking about the events of the morning. He’d tried so hard to provoke her, and he thought he’d finally broken through her barrier when she demanded her chemise back. But once she flashed him that false smile, he knew he was no closer than when he’d started. Agitated, he gave up the battle and went for a ride.

The ride hadn’t helped him to let it go and all during his Latin lessons and home visits, thoughts of his wife kept niggling in the back of his head.

Dismounting his horse, he decided tonight he’d just apologize for his rude behavior and any future attempts he made to break down her defenses would be more tasteful. He could only imagine what a fool he’d looked like shaking her chemise and grinning like an idiot.

Dinner that night was served in the kitchen. Since it had always been just him eating, he’d seen no reason to use the dining room. Perhaps now that he was married he ought to ask Liberty where she preferred to eat.

“Good evening, my dear,” Paul drawled when Liberty walked into the kitchen. “Care to join me?”

She nodded her acceptance of his invitation, but said nothing.

“Mrs. Siddons, why don’t you go home early? We’ll worry about the dishes,” Paul said to the housekeeper.

Mrs. Siddons bobbed a quick thank you and was out the door before Liberty could object.

“Why did you send her home?” Liberty hissed, clearly uncomfortable being completely trapped alone with him.

“Because I wanted to talk to you,” Paul said earnestly, spearing a piece of chicken.

“You could have just asked her to leave the room,” Liberty said testily.

Paul smiled at her. “If you’re worried about being alone with me, don’t. I have no intention of ravishing you.”

Color crept up Liberty’s face. “Good, because I’d put up the biggest fight you’ve ever seen,” she said sharply.

Ah, now they were getting somewhere. “Would you now?” he drawled.

She bit her lip and looked away. He could tell she had a hot retort waiting on the tip of her tongue, but for some reason she wasn’t going to cut it loose. No matter. His intention tonight was to apologize. He’d find another way to bait her tomorrow. “Liberty,” he began softly, catching sight at how she bristled when he spoke to her. “I would like to apologize for what I did this morning.”

“It’s of no account,” she said stiffly, her eyes belying her statement.

Obviously it was of some account or she wouldn’t be blinking so rapidly. “Yes, it is. I went too far when I took your—”

“Don’t say it,” she cut in between clenched teeth.

“I was going to say clothing,” Paul said honestly.

“Sorry,” she muttered, picking up a dinner roll.

“Let me guess, you thought I was going to say chemise,” Paul said, ducking so she wouldn’t hit him if she threw her roll.

But the roll didn’t fly like he expected. Instead, her hands squeezed it so tightly that within three seconds it was unrecognizable. “Mr. Grimes,” she began in a brittle, if not somewhat starch tone, “it’s highly inappropriate to speak of such things.”

“
Clothing?” he asked, cocking his head. “Hmm, I may not go to London that
much, but I was of the understanding clothing is what a lot of the young ladies talk to gentlemen about.” Paul heard a noise of vexation that would almost pass as a grunt emerge from somewhere within Liberty’s throat. She was itching to yell at him, he could tell.

“Some do,” she said flatly, still clenching her used-to-be dinner roll.

“So then what’s the problem?” he asked, his lips twitching at the sight of her reddening face.

She glared at him.

“Oh, is it because the young ladies talk about gowns, bonnets, ribbons and the like and I was speaking of undergarments?” he asked innocently, taking delight in the way she bristled again. She wouldn’t be able to hold her resolve much longer if he kept this up. At some point those walls she’d erected were going to come down, and not only was he counting on it, he was going to enjoy watching it.

“Mr. Grimes,” she nearly bellowed. “It’s bad enough you had your filthy mitts on it; please refrain from reminding me of the tragedy my chemise suffered this morning.”

Paul grinned at her. “I do believe Joshua has just marched around the city seven times,” he mused aloud.

“What is that supposed to mean?” she demanded, her eyes shooting daggers at him.

“Nothing, my dear; nothing at all,” he murmured, picking up his dinner roll and biting off half of it.

Shaking her head, Liberty ignored him and focused on her dinner.

“Liberty dearest,” Paul said sweetly, causing her angry eyes to snap to his. “Perhaps since you’ve ruined your roll,” he gestured to the mangled piece of bread in her hand, “you should use your fork to stab the beans, instead of just chasing them around the plate like that.” He watched her fingers tighten their hold on her fork until her knuckles were completely white. “You can pretend the beans are my head if you’d like,” he suggested with a lopsided smile.

For the first time in what seemed like ages, he watched a true smile take hold of her lips. The image caused a tendril of heat and desire to coil in his stomach.

“Thank you for the suggestion. I will do just that,” she said sweetly, changing the position of the fork in her hand so that she was holding it with a fist and the tines were pointed down toward the plate. Then, with more force than necessary, she started stabbing at the beans. Loud screeching and scraping noises where her fork was hitting the plate along with the beans echoed throughout the room.

“See, sweetheart, it’s much easier to eat that way,” Paul told her while trying to keep a straight face. She was absolutely obliterating some of those beans with how much force she was using. She must truly hate him, he thought somberly, his smile rapidly fading.

“Stop that,” she said tightly, stabbing at her plate.

“Stop what?” he asked with sincere innocence. What was he doing now that was irritating her?

“Stop calling me that,” she said through clenched teeth.

“What? Sweetheart. I only called you that once, it’s not as if I’ve made a habit of it. Yet.”

“Well, stop. I don’t like it.”

“All right. You don’t like sweetheart. How about when I called you ‘my dear’ or ‘dearest’?” he asked, just to tease her.

She pursed her lips. “Mr. Grimes, I feel you are deliberately trying to anger me. Let’s get one thing straight. We only got married because of my stupidity and my father’s anger. This is not a love match. Therefore, I would prefer if you did not call me any of those terms. Clear?”

“Clear,” he agreed. He’d called her those things only to help fuel the fire of her angst. Until now, he’d doubted they were working. Apparently they were. Good.

“Thank you,” she said semi-cordially.

“You’re welcome, Liberty,” Paul said softy.

She slammed her fork down on the table. “Do not, and I repeat do not, call me that.”

“What by your name?” Paul asked, bewildered.

Her eyes flashed fire. “You may call me Mrs. Grimes.”

One of the corners of his mouth tipped up. She would rather he call her by the name he’d given her than her own name. That was rather amusing if he did say so himself. “Why would I do that?”

“Why wouldn’t you?” she countered.

Of course the majority of married couples addressed each other formally, he knew that. But just because he knew it didn’t mean he agreed with it. “Because you’re my wife,” he returned simply.

Liberty rolled her eyes heavenward for a moment before meeting his again. “Just because I’m your wife does not give you the right to take such liberties,” she blustered, then exhaled sharply when she realized her own blunder. “Mr. Grimes, take that smile off your face before I wipe it off for you.”

Paul raised his hands in mock innocence. “Forgive me,” he said, his voice uneven from trying not to laugh. “I did not mean to take such liberties, Liberty.”

She twisted her lips and contorted her face in such a way that she looked like she was suffering from a digestive complaint. He couldn’t hold it in any longer, he let out the howls of laughter he’d been trying to keep inside.

She scowled at him. “Don’t think for one moment that if you choke on your dinner that I’ll whack you on the back and save you the way Brooke did for Andrew.”

“Not to worry,” he said in between bursts of laughter, “I didn’t have any food in my mouth.”

“What a pity,” she muttered.

When Paul got his laughter under control he stared at his wife across the table. Her face still had the pinched up constipated look, but she was still there, which was a good sign in his opinion. “Hmm. What was that you said last spring? Oh yes, liberty means freedom from external rule. I do believe your parents named you well. I don’t believe anyone could rule you.”

“I know,” she said pertly and smirked.

Paul got up from his spot at the table and walked to Liberty’s side. “Liberty,” he said, deliberately using her name to irritate her, “I believe I shall retire for the evening. But before I go, I would like to inform you that I am granting you the liberty to call me Paul.”

Chuckling at her angry face, he walked out the door and didn’t even stop when her grubby dinner roll hit him squarely in the back of the head.

Chapter 10

The next morning Liberty was awakened by a
rap, rap, rap
on her door. Thinking it was her annoying husband, she pulled the covers over her head and ignored the second, louder round of raps that sounded on her door.

She groaned a few minutes later when she heard the door open.

“Ma’am, are you awake?” the housekeeper asked.

Immediately Liberty pulled the blankets down and said, “I’m sorry. I thought you were my annoying husband.”

“Sorry to disappoint, but he couldn’t knock,” called her infuriating husband from the hallway, “he was just standing out in the hall, holding two very heavy buckets of hot water.”

Mrs. Siddons looked like she was trying not to laugh. “He insisted you have a bath in your room this morning,” she explained, pulling a copper tub into the middle of the floor.

“He insisted?” Liberty repeated hollowly. What was he up to now? Her eyes narrowed on the housekeeper. Surely she was not in on whatever his plans were.

“Yes,” she said, nodding. “I told him I was unable to carry the water up, bad back, wouldn’t you know,” she ran the knuckles of her left hand up and down her spine a bit, “he said that was fine and he carried the pails up himself.”

There must be more to this story, she thought.

“Are you ready for me yet?” Mr. Grimes asked from the hall.

“Almost,” the housekeeper hollered back, then looked to Liberty for her to confirm she was ready.

Liberty pulled the blankets up to her chin. “You can come in now,” she said.

“Good,” he said, walking into the room. Wordlessly, he poured the steaming water into her tub. Then went to leave, stopping at the door to flash her a quick smile and softly say, “Enjoy your bath, Liberty.”

She nodded and he left.

Mrs. Siddons asked if she needed any assistance, and Liberty shook her head no.

Once she was alone, Liberty slipped into the tub and enjoyed herself for so long that by the time she got out, the water had become lukewarm.

Liberty didn’t know what to do with her day. Yesterday she’d read the entire novel Pau—Mr. Grimes had given her. She hadn’t meant to read it all at one time, she’d just enjoyed it so much, she couldn’t make herself put it down. They lived only a thirty minute ride from Bath. Perhaps she’d go to a bookshop there and get another.

She frowned. She had very little pin money left and Papa told her that he and Pa—Mr. Grimes hadn’t discussed her allowance. She swallowed. She doubted she’d ever be getting one with how much her husband seemed to dislike her. And she certainly didn’t feel comfortable enough with him to ask him about it.

Liberty went down the stairs and in search of the library. Mr. Grimes had mentioned she would likely fill their library up with her books; but surely he had to have some of his own already in there.

Scanning the shelves, a tidal wave of disappointment swept over her. All he had were books that were either written in Latin, therefore, rendering them unreadable to her, or they were about Theology.

Marching upstairs, she ran into Mrs. Siddons carrying down her dirty linens. “Mrs. Siddons, do you know when Mr. Grimes will return?”

“Just before dinner,” the housekeeper said.

“Oh,” Liberty said, deflated. Even if he were unpleasant to be around, it beat being by herself all day.

“Not to worry, he’ll get that old bathwater out as soon as he gets here,” the housekeeper said with a cheery smile.

Liberty started. “Huh? Oh yes, my bathwater.”

“I best be about my duties,” Mrs. Siddons said, hurrying off.

“Wait,” Liberty called. “What is there to do around here all day?” She knew it probably seemed selfish to ask a servant what there was to do, but boredom made a person say things they usually wouldn’t.

“You can go to Bath,” she suggested.

“I’m not the best rider,” Liberty admitted truthfully. She’d never even ridden before. Anyway, she’d rather admit she didn’t have good skills on the back of a horse than admit she had no money.

“Take the carriage,” Mrs. Siddons said simply. “The master left it here for you.”

“Brilliant,” she beamed. She may not be able to buy anything, but at least she’d get out of the house.

Less than an hour later she stood in the same bookshop she’d browsed the last time she’d been to Bath.

She walked around the room and found the romance novel section. Running her finger across the shelf, she scanned all the titles. She dared not pick any of them up for fear she might actually want to read it. She’d seen several that the title alone made her want to read the book. Then she’d sternly remind herself she was just window shopping, and swiftly pull her hand back to her side.

“Have you already read all these?” a voice behind her said, startling her.

Liberty turned around and saw a petite woman that somehow looked familiar. She wasn’t sure how or why, but she’d swear she knew this woman. “No,” she said hesitantly.

“That’s too bad. Some of them are very good. And others, well, they’re not,” the other woman said.

Liberty nodded.

“Which one are you thinking of getting?” the woman continued, favoring her with a sweet smile.

“I’m not,” Liberty blurted out.

The woman blinked at her and Liberty thought she better elaborate. “I didn’t bring enough money with me today,” she said evenly. It was the truth. She’d left what little money she had at home.

“Oh, well then, just have them put it on your husband’s credit,” the woman suggested easily.

What an excellent idea! Liberty tried not to smile as she thought of all the things she was going to be able to buy on Mr. Grimes credit. The man may think to control her by not giving her an allowance; well, she was going to see that she got what was hers one way or the other.

Grabbing a few volumes off the shelf, she flashed the woman a grateful smile and walked to the counter. “I want to purchase these on Mr. Paul Grimes’ credit, please,” she told the clerk with a cheeky smile.

The clerk’s eyes traveled up and down her form and he licked his lips before he said, “I’m sorry, but he doesn’t have credit in this store. However, I’d be happy to let you buy them on your own credit.”

Liberty blinked. “All r—”

“There’s no need for that,” the other woman cut in sharply, sneering at the cashier. “You can put them on my son’s credit.”

“Yes, milady,” the clerk said with an audible gulp.

“That’s not necessary,” Liberty protested. Who was this woman? And what had caused her to react so severely to the clerk’s suggestion?

“Yes, it is.” The woman paid for the books she had in her hand and signed the ledger for Liberty’s.

“No, it’s really not. I’ll just put these back and come back when I have more money,” Liberty said, grabbing the books off the counter.

“Nonsense,” the woman said with a smile. “My son will pay for them.”

“I cannot accept that,” Liberty choked out. “I must pay for them myself.”

“You can work it off,” the lady told her airily, waving her hand in a dismissive way.

“Work it off?” Liberty breathed, her lips quivered. What did this woman mean by that? She knew there were many women who worked off gifts and the like by doing what some called “favors” for gentlemen. She didn’t know exactly what these “favors” entailed, and to be honest, she didn’t want to know. “No!” Liberty shouted.

The other woman jumped nearly a foot in the air at Liberty’s outburst. Putting her books down, the woman put her hand on Liberty’s wrist in a comforting gesture. “Calm down, dear. This man might expect you do to that for the books,” she cast a scathing glare at the clerk, “but my son won’t. He’s quite in love with your sister.”

Mortification like she’d never known before washed over Liberty. No wonder this woman looked familiar, she was Andrew’s mother. They certainly didn’t look identical, in fact, Andrew resembled his father in many ways, but he had a few of his mother’s traits, especially her eyes. She could see that now. “How did you know who I was?” she asked uncomfortably.

“Brooke,” the countess said simply, as if that explained everything.

“Oh dear,” Liberty said, shaking her head. If Brooke had been talking about her to Andrew’s mother, who knows what might have been said.

“
It’s not so bad,” she assured her. “She says only the nicest things about you. Anyway, when I walked in I recognized you right away from a miniature Brooke has of you. She shows those things off
all
the time.”

Liberty giggled. “That doesn’t sound like something she’d do.”

The countess snorted. “I assure you, she does. One would think she’s older than I am with the way she talks of her family and wants to show anyone, and everyone, miniatures of them.”

“You two must get along quite well,” Liberty mused.

“We do,” the countess agreed. “Would you care to walk with me?”

“That would be lovely,” Liberty agreed, shooting one more scowl at the clerk before they departed.

“He’s scum,” Andrew’s mother said when they got outside.

“Pardon me?”

“I said that clerk is scum. But that’s of no consequence now. He won’t give you any trouble now that he knows of your relation to Andrew.”

Liberty nodded. “Lady Townson,” she began.

The dowager countess stopped and turned to look directly at Liberty. “Don’t call me that,” she said sharply. “You may address me as Elizabeth or Lizzie, that’s it.”

“A…all right,” Liberty said, swallowing a nervous laugh that was lodged in her throat.

“Now then, dear,” Elizabeth said sweetly, “what was it you were going to ask.” Her dark blue eyes softened and her smile had returned in full force.

“I was just wondering what you meant by me paying Andrew back for the books,” Liberty said uncomfortably. “I mean, you already knew who I was.”

“Yes, I know,” Elizabeth acknowledge. “I have a proposition for you,” she said with a twinkle in her eye.

“You do?” Liberty squeaked.

“How would you like to be a lady’s companion?” Elizabeth asked, shocking Liberty to her toes.

“I would love to!” she exclaimed. Then, “Wait, whose lady’s companion?”

“Mine, of course,” Elizabeth said, laughing.

“That would be delightful,” Liberty said. Just as long as she didn’t slip and call her “Lady Townson” again, they’d get along famously.

“Excellent, you may start tomorrow.”

Liberty and Elizabeth walked around the block to iron out the details before Liberty got back into her carriage. Her new post as Elizabeth’s lady’s companion was just the thing she needed. Elizabeth explained she didn’t need her company every day and they decided three days a week would be plenty. That settled what she’d be doing four days out of her week; now she just needed to figure out what to do for the other three.