ROMANCE: Romantic Comedy: Love in 30 Days - The Best Plans Don't Always Work! (Plus 19 FREE Books Book 13) (24 page)

The vibrant colours of dresses and suits so often pleased her with their brightness, but tonight they seemed gaudy, fading into a haze of confusing swirls. Her head was spinning as she looked around the room, and she began to feel woozy. No one noticed as she cradled her head in her hands for a brief second. The colours seemed to pound as she looked up again, straight at Henry. He noticed her widened eyes and the weakness of her gait, but did not comment. His hand brushed her cheek and recoiled, his brow creasing. “Angelica, your face is heated. How are you feeling?” She smiled at him, trying to reassure him that all was well. It came out lopsided and abnormal, her eyes too bright and glassy. His voice faded further away as he took her arm, leading her out of the room. She swayed dangerously, near falling over with an unsteady lean.

Henry looked at Angelica with concern. She had seemed fine this morning, but now appeared crazed and feverish. As he led her away from the dancing room, where she tended to linger, she was nodding her head enthusiastically, wanting to get away. He talked to her, though he was unsure whether she was responding or not. They walked through the winding corridors until they reached the stairs. Her unsteadiness did not lead him to believe that she would be suited to climbing the stairs at this point, so her summoned a servant to help him. She began to laugh as they walked up, a kind of delirium taking over her. The heat seemed to be getting to her mind. She kicked her feet out as they lifted her, swinging them gaily through the air. It was all Henry could do to contain his laughter. She seemed ridiculously happy for someone who was suffering the effects of going for a rather too long swim in the river during a storm.

They struggled up the stairs, surely seeming to outside eyes like a trio of drunkards. Panting, Henry rested on the landing with Angelica, then made his way to the second flight of stairs. By this stage, the servant looked quite frightened, probably sure that he had been serving lunatics for all his time. Eventually, and without ease, they reached the top of the stairs. Henry dismissed the servant, and led Angelica to her room. He could only imagine the gossip that would be running through the drawing room at this second. Henry lay her in bed, fetching one of the maidservants to look after her. A wet flannel was placed on her forehead, and she still retained a crazed smile. She reached out to him, and he squeezed her hand, leaving the room.

Angelica woke up in the darkness of her room, her face wet and clammy. She flung the flannel which lay across her forehead across the room, confused and disoriented. Her hands moved around her, searching for another body, some sign that Henry was still here. No warmth reached her fingers, and she realised that he had left her there. What had happened? She didn’t remember leaving the dance, only that the colours were very bright and that it hurt to see. Reaching to her bedside, she found the bell and rang it to summon one of the maidservants. Out of breath, she sank back down into the pillows which propped up her head, falling into their luxurious comfort. She could not make out the servant who appeared around the corner, carrying a dimly lit candle. Slowly, Angelica sat up and grabbed her wrist. “Bring Henry to me.” She whispered, smiling. The servant just pulled away from her grasp and left with a nod.

Angelica lay back again, content that Henry would be with her soon. She heard his footsteps down the hall, but she was so tired. She faded away into a dream as he approached, though she had felt she was ready for him.

When she woke again, the room was filled with bright light and Henry was nowhere to be seen. She felt anger rise inside her. If only she could have stayed awake, her and Henry would be waking up together just as they had in the stable. They would be growing closer, rather than apart as they seemed to be now. She was weak, unable to see her husband even when she intentionally called him to her room. Her body was covered with a sheen of sweat, but her fever had broken. She felt fine, and Henry should have understood this. Sitting on the edge of her bed, she began to calm down. Sickness was not an excuse for this kind of behaviour, though right now she wished it was. She would apologise to Henry for waking him in the middle of the night.

Confusion overwhelmed her. Henry was not displaying that same affection he had the previous night, or surely he would have stayed with her to monitor her wellbeing and reassure her. Tears came to her eyes, and she began to sob. Crying felt good at this point, some assurance that she was capable of normal emotions. She had been through an ordeal, and needed time to recover. But she had wanted Henry, and he had not responded.

In her muddled, changing thoughts, this was all she could focus on. Henry must now despise her, after the embarrassment she had caused him at the dance. She had not been a good hostess, and now she was being a terrible wife. Tearful and distressed, she called on one of the servants to help her dress. Her kind, steady hands allowed some relaxation as she put on a simple gown. It was futile to try and impress Henry with clothes or looks, as unmoving as he was. She let out one last sob about the state of her marriage and then composed herself, checking the mirror to see a blotchy, wet face. Taking deep breaths, she descended the stairs carefully and went to breakfast. To her surprise, there was no breakfast served. Instead, it appeared the kitchen was preparing for lunch. She had slept much longer than she thought.

He was waiting in the dining room to see her. “How are you feeling?” She pushed away his hand from her shoulder. “Angelica?” His worry was evident on his face, confused that he had done something wrong.

“You should be concerned, leaving me alone like that. Anything could have happened to me.” If he was worried now, he should have shown it last night. Her usually musical voice was cutting, filled with discords and unease.

“You were cared for, were you not?” The concerned furrows in his brow were all she saw, interpreting them as an abrupt kind of anger. His gaze was intense, and he evaluated the signs of her previous illness but saw none.

“Henry, I wanted you to stay there and look after me yourself.” Her tone was accusatory, and daggers flew from her eyes.

“Your behaviour has been odd lately. None of this would have happened if you hadn’t decided to swim in the river.” His voice had raised, she thought triumphantly. She could go louder.

“Maybe I wouldn’t have if our lives weren’t so boring. I can’t stand another year of that.” Her posture was nearing aggressive, the frustrated tears filling her eyes again. She had wanted this fight to happen, he realised. Henry felt affronted. There was nothing for it, he decided, turning his back on her and walking away. It was as though her brain was addled. He could not pick what the change in her had been, but this was surely its manifestation. Henry had felt that their relationship was at last reaching affection and fondness, only to have this feeling upturned by Angelica’s words.

As he walked out of the room, he felt that her anger had transferred onto him. What she was doing was spiteful, and he didn’t understand why she had begun to act so strangely. He had saved her life, and then she had been happy, and then sick, and now, it seemed, angry? Whatever afflicted her, he hoped would not pass on to him. Her discontent at their marriage was centred around a situation that he had always believed she was created. Now he was forced to wonder if he, and his darkened past, were not the reason for the distance in their relationship.

He remembered a day when Marianne had been like this, up and down, enraged and passionate at once. It had been right before her confession of love to him. But surely Angelica was not contemplating a similar thing? The thought stuck in his mind, however hard he tried to cast it out. Never in all their years of marriage had she said anything indicative of affection. The few times they made love, it had felt as though she were merely enduring it, trying to do her duty. He promised himself that if there was another time, he would make sure she enjoyed it as he did.

***

Tonight, Angelica would not call a servant to get Henry for her.  It had been ineffective the previous night. She thought of his shoulders, supple and strong, holding her tight and safe. They had both said a lot of things today, but she forgave him for all of it. She had not meant what she said, hurtful as it had been. Now all that was needed was his forgiveness of her. She rose and walked down the hallway, purposeful and sure.

“Angelica,” his voice was low and husky and he stood to greet her - or to bar her entry, she thought. Blankets pooled where he had lain on his bed, but he did not seem to be half asleep. Perhaps sleep had evaded him, as it had her. “What are you doing here?” he asked, stepping towards her. Her lips parted as she saw his burning eyes, intense and furious in the dim light. Shadows fell across his body, patches of light wrapped around his smooth skin. Stubble peppered his cheeks, his face tired though she could still feel those alert eyes on her. None of the day’s anger remained in her, though she sensed that something had awoken in him through their conversation.

“I wanted to apologise. To you. I haven’t been a good wife lately – well, mostly.” She swallowed nervously, looking at the floor. She hadn’t felt so tense in a long time. Her earlier confidence was fading away. Henry looked at her, his brow creased.

“What do you mean?” He shifted forwards again, close enough for her to reach out and touch him now. Angelica wasn’t sure she could respond to his question. His tousled hair and dark silhouette against the moonlight were no longer imposing, but inviting. She lifted her chin and stepped forward, her face tilted towards his.

She stood so close to him now, surely this was what she meant. Her breathing was hot against his neck as he looked down at her face, eyes wide and searching his own for answers. Henry had been uncertain of her intentions, but they were becoming clearer. They had not been in the same room at night since they were newlyweds, when it had seemed their duty. Angelica had not fallen with child, and had never come to him again. He had assumed it was because this was not something she wanted, but he was beginning to think he was wrong.

He reached to her face, tangling his hand in her hair as he pulled her towards him, closer. He now felt not only her breath, but the breathing movements in her stomach, pressing against him. His head bowed to hers and he brushed her lips with his briefly, letting the sensation run through him. She shivered, which he took as an affirmation that he was doing the right thing. Sliding his hands around the sweeping curve of her waist, he leaned down again to kiss her. To his surprise, she pulled away, ducking her head and wrapping her arms around her knees on his bed.

“Before we do… This. Before this goes further, Henry, who is Marianne?” He sighed, sitting down next to her on the bed. This was something he had never wanted to tell her, though she ought to know. It was selfish of him to keep to himself, but it was something he had wanted to remain within him. Angelica didn’t need to be hurt by the knowledge that she was not his first woman.

As he spoke, explaining what had happened, she watched him with those shining eyes. It felt as though they carried away his pain, absorbing and internalising everything he said. Talking was not easy. He felt that with every word, a deep-set memory was uprooted and carelessly discarded. Angelica made it easier, seeming to heal every wound and help restore new life. She listened intently, nodding occasionally, and he did not pause. When, at last, he finished telling her of this part of his life, she was filled with a great sympathy. For an immeasurable amount of time, they sat in silence, considering what had gone between them as the story was told. Each felt that they had been cleansed, relieved of a weight that had hung over their lives together.

It was impossible to say who moved first, but they were wrapped in each others arms quickly. Henry held Angelica close to him but stilled, needing a sign that this was what she wanted too. She tugged at the edge of his night shirt with urgent hands, and he smiled, lifting his arms so she could undress him. Soft hands stroked his chest with wonder, and he lifted her onto his lap. It had been a long time since they had been this close, and Henry wanted to show Angelica the care that had been trapped deep inside him before. He kissed her slowly, his tongue pressing deep into her mouth as their lips moved together. He pulled her head closer to him, twisting his hand in her hair again, wanting to feel more of her soft lips and tongue. Their kissing took on a new heat as he lay back, her body falling against his. Lifting his back, he pressed against her, eager to show her what she meant to him in this moment.

He began to kiss down the side of her neck, feeling the curve of her newly arched back as he did so. She felt so fragile as he kissed her, he wondered if he was being too rough. When her hands made their way to his trousers, beginning to rub him, he realised he was not. He continued to kiss her neck, finding a sense of urgency as he began to unlace her dress. Seeing the curve of her body in the moonlight was almost too much to bear, the sweet taste of her skin on his lips and her hands pressing his growing bulge. He tried to make his quickening kisses seem sensual, but he was becoming more desperate as her skin was exposed to him, bit by bit.