Taming the Shrew (4 page)

After dining with his brothers, Hervey had an uncharacteristic urge to play dice. His brothers, fearful that their meal ticket would be murdered by his bride, encouraged him to visit a gaming hall where their seven orange heads drew eyes and sneers. Hervey’s run of luck continued as he mentally stewed his situation. His body demanded he run home and climb into his wife’s bed, but his heart had been given a taste of what he’d feel if his wife surrendered with love. The thought made him sigh with longing. The miracle of being Juliana’s husband was starting to pale against the prospect of winning her heart. Her kisses had tied his insides into the sweetest knot. He could no longer believe that making love to the woman he loved would quench his longing. He suddenly faced the prospect of feeling as unfulfilled bedding his beloved bride as he had pleasuring other men’s wives. He enjoyed making love, but it had always left him feeling hollow after the glow of pleasure faded. He wanted it to mean something; he wanted his beloved to crawl into his arms and make love to him with her heart as well as her body.

By three in the morning he’d made a plan. He knew what he had to do. Waking his sleeping brothers he accompanied them back to his house and fell into his bed fully dressed. After three hours of sleep he eagerly hurried back to his wife’s house without shaving or changing his clothes, his pockets bulging with his winnings.

Enthroned in his new library he slowly sipped down a cup of chocolate while reading the previous day’s papers. The expected fireworks soon started; he could hear his beloved was awake and unhappy as she screamed at some unseen servant, “Where is that miscreant Hervey creature? My husband...who else would I be talking about? There’s only one Hervey creature...He’s in the library? I’m going to kill him! I don’t care if it’s illegal and when I want a sermon I’ll hire a vicar.” A few minutes later the library door slammed into the wall demanding his attention. He leaned over to see his wife’s heaving bosoms barely restrained by a low cut greenish-blue nightdress, glorious flames of copper trailing over her shoulders and down her back. His blood raced through his veins daring him to defy his lust.

“Good morning Sweetheart, did you sleep well?”

“Where have you been?” The growl promised retribution. “I expected you to come do your duty last night.” The savage words seemed mild when followed by a scream of rage. “I waited up for you, you heartless lying miscreant.”

“I told you I’d return later...”

“Returning twelve hours later is not returning later, it’s returning the next day you hateful orange monster. Where have you been?”

“Playing dice...”

“Dice?” Her eyes nearly popped out of her head. “You were throwing dice instead of fulfilling your conjugal duty? I hate...you!” The last word was drawn out into another scream of fury. The scream abruptly ceased as he casually pulled three bags from his pockets and threw them on the small table next to him. “What is that?”

“My winnings, yesterday was the luckiest day of my life. You look delicious. Can I have a kiss?”

“No.” Her voice was imperious. “I married you to be a married lady; you will shave that orange mould off your face and bed me or else.”

“Can I tell you a secret? There is nothing I’d rather be doing right now then making love to you; you look like a goddess...” He allowed himself a loud sigh as he ogled the outlines of her charms. “...you ravish me.”

She looked torn between wanting to believe him and kill him. “Then shave your face and do your duty. I thought you said you cared.” The words were filled with pain.

“I care very much.”

“Then make me your wife.”

“I’ll happily oblige you on one small condition; call me Sweetheart and say it like you mean it.”

Her eyes narrowed as her nostrils flared. “You’re not my sweetheart and I couldn’t even pretend to mean it. I hate you!”

“That’s unfortunate for me, but at least you’ll never die in childbed.”

She clenched her fists and screamed before snarling, “I didn’t marry you to decorate my library. I married you to be a married lady. You’re breaking the contract you hateful orange fortune hunter...”

“Don’t be cruel Juliana. It’s not my fault I have orange hair and I’m certainly not a fortune hunter. If you want me to make love to you; call me Sweetheart, say it like you mean it and I’ll oblige you with pleasure. I’m not asking you to stand on your head.”

“I refuse to feed your self-conceit. Do your duty or I’ll annul you from my life and buy a man who will.”

“Men can’t perform on demand Juliana. Even if you call me Sweetheart I may not be able to make you my wife till later today; I’ve only had three hours of sleep.”

“You orange cur, if you insist on this stupid mindless condition I’ll demand an annulment.”

“As you wish...but if you annul me from your life I fear in my grief I may publicly declare the ills of being your husband in the hope that you’ll be left with no option other than to remarry me.”

“Are you...are you blackmailing me?”

“Sweetheart, I just want to be your husband.”

Her angry eyes filled with tears, “Why would you want to be my husband?”

“Why do you think?”

“I haven’t the slightest idea...because you’re an idiot?”

“Perhaps, but I have a burning need to hear you call me Sweetheart. Can’t you just pretend I’m the man of your dreams?”

“More like the man of my nightmares, I refuse to address you with a sentimental lie.”

“Are you’re afraid of the marriage bed? I won’t hurt you.”

“I’m not afraid of anything. I waited up half the night for...”

“Your Sweetheart?”

“For my husband to do his duty and instead he was playing dice. I hate dice!”

“I’m going to buy you a present.”

“I don’t want a present. I just want you to make me your wife.”

“You are my wife. I married you last night. It was better than a dream.”

“I bought you to make me a wife. Are you coming to bed or not?”

“Bought me? How did you buy me?”

“I have a fortune and you are penniless. If you don’t undress and come do your duty I won’t...I won’t buy you any clothes until you do.”

“I don’t need any clothes...”

“I won’t buy you anything.”

“I don’t need anything...”

“I hate you!” The scream of rage made his ears pop. “Come to bed or else...”

“Or else what?”

“I don’t know, but I’ll think of something hellish.”

“As you wish...but I insist on undressing in your room. The sight of my freckles might frighten your servants. May I hold your hand?”

“No, I may need it to push you down the stairs.”

“That would be a waste of a good de Vere.” Hervey threw down his paper and picked up his winnings. “Lead on good lady, your luscious charms have led me into temptation.” Half way up the stairs Hervey ran into his scowling wife as she abruptly stopped and turned around. “Sorry Sweetheart, I thought you were leading me to your chamber.” He reached out and caressed her leg, “You may lead me wherever you like.”

“Are you drunk?”

“No, will you dance with me now that I’m your husband?”

“In public?” The two words were spat with incredulous horror.

“That is where most people dance. I’ve led you through every imaginable dance in my dreams...”

“I will not be making a public spectacle of my ill-chosen union. You may dance with the devil; you’ll never dance with me.”

Hervey felt the words like a heavy foot in his stomach. He bowed his head and struggled to sop up the pain oozing from his middle into his chest. He silently cursed himself for being emotionally sensitive when fatigued and took a deep breath. “As you wish.” It was all he could say without losing control of his emotions. He waited head bowed until she eventually continued up the stairs. Following the naked little feet peeking out from billowing silk he began to wonder if he’d made a terrible mistake gambling his heart. How could he love a woman repulsed by the thought of dancing with him? Were his brothers right? Had he lost his mind? There was still time for an annulment, but if he chose that path he’d lose her future kisses. He blindly followed her into her chamber and ignored her as she shyly locked the door. He took hold of the chair sitting in front of the dressing table and dragged it closer to the bed. He could see her out of the corner of his eyes standing there watching him. He shrugged out his brown coat and draped it over the back of the chair. Sitting down he pulled off his boots and set them neatly to the left side of the chair and then stood up to unbutton his waistcoat.

“What is the matter Hervey creature?”

He carefully folded his waistcoat and draped it over his coat. “Why would anything be the matter?”

“I’ve no idea, that’s why I asked the question.” When he remained silent she started fidgeting with her gown. “Are you angry with me?”

“Why would I be angry?” He sat back down on the chair and undid the buttons near his knees and untied his garter ribbons before standing and unbuttoning his fall.

“You look like I’ve killed one of your stupid brothers.” He pulled his breeches down around his ankles and stepped free, his modesty preserved by his thigh length shirt draping his knee length unmentionables. His breeches were shaken and carefully folded over the chair. “Why won’t you look at me?”

“I’m undressing.”

She stomped across the room and grabbed the ends of his cravat out of his hands. “What is the matter?” He still couldn’t look at her as she removed the long piece of linen wrapped around his throat. Free of constraint he peeled off his stockings and shoved them in a boot and at last undid the two buttons at his throat. Breathing deeply, he rubbed his neck as she poked him in the chest. “Why won’t you look at me?”

Hervey sighed in resignation, “You hurt my feelings.”

“How? I didn’t throw anything at you.”

“You said you’d never dance with me.”

“Who cares if I never dance with you?”

“I care.”

“Why?”

“Haven’t you ever been to a ball and seen a handsome man, obviously not me, who made your heart race and made you wish that he’d ask you to dance?”

“Of course...what of it?”

“How would you feel if instead of asking you to dance you overheard him say to some sneering companion that he’d rather die than be seen dancing with you?”

“It hurts my feelings...I hate people like that. Why?”

“Every time I see you across a crowded ballroom my heart races, my palms sweat and I feel I’ve drunk four bottles of rum. My head says, ‘Hervey you fool, she won’t even look at you let alone dance with you’, but I long to dance with you. Under normal circumstances I can filter out your cutting words, because I know your prickly exterior is a defensive shield. My mind knows this and that knowledge normally protects me from being hurt, but I’m tired and I can’t think clearly enough to strain out the thorns spewing off your tongue.”

Her lips quivered as her eyes filled with tears, “It isn’t my fault that you’re tired; I didn’t make you stay out all night playing stupid dice. I wanted you to come to bed remember?”

Hervey put his hands on his hips, forcibly restraining the impulse to comfort her. “My fatigue is not the problem Juliana. I don’t think you understand that everyone has feelings just like you. You are not more sensitive than other people. The rest of the world feels things as intensely as you. The other day when you saw my brother Avery at Ackerman’s, he had no idea you were there until you came up to him and humiliated him for no reason. He’s a thirty-year-old man forced to depend on me, his baby brother, for his entire support and he feels it keenly. If I were him I’d probably kill myself because I couldn’t bear to stare into a bleak endless future void of all hope of happiness. You hurt his feelings by publicly declaring his identity and his lack of funds. That does not justify his rudeness to you, but it certainly explains it. Don’t you think?” Big fat tears rolled down her cheek making him feel like a monster.

“How was I supposed to know it would hurt his stupid feelings?”

“Sweetheart; all you have to do is ask yourself, ‘How would I feel if someone said or did this to me?’ If you had, you’d have known it would hurt him. I don’t need your money Juliana. I’m self-employed. I buy a bargain and sell for a profit. I have never taken a farthing for bedding a woman and I’d rather blow out my brains than sink so low. Can’t you understand that I have feelings too?”

“Why are you telling me this? Are you trying to make me feel bad? Do you want my pity?”

“Sweetheart, if you don’t understand what I want, then I suggest you buy a husband who won’t care. Horace Royston would fit the bill; he’s handsome, charming, good ton and a scoundrel who’ll gamble the roof from over your head in a week.”

“I hate Horace Royston...you want an annulment? I thought you liked me.”

“An annulment would make me miserable, but if the alternative is spending the rest of my life feeling like you’ve kicked me in the stomach then I’ll march back to the Archbishop and say whatever I have to say to free myself.” Hervey’s resolve to keep his distance dissolved as the woman sobbing into her nightdress blindly stepped towards him and transferred her tears and fingers to his shirt.

“I don’t want an annulment...I like your kisses.”

Hervey took a deep breath as the pain oozed away allowing his arms permission to claim their prize as he buried his nose in her hair. “That makes me feel better. The pain in my stomach is already gone, but I’m tired. I’m going to fall asleep standing upright. I need to go to bed and when I wake up I’m going to go home to wash and change. Come with me and I’ll show you my house.”

She wiped her nose on his shirt and looked up at him in disbelief, “You own a house...in London?”

“Its previous owner was hacked to death by his mistress in the drawing room. I guess he wasn’t a very good lover. She drank a bottle of laudanum afterwards and saved the hangman the bother. We ignore the odd apparition, strange smell and flying object.”

“You live in a haunted house?”

“It was a bargain.”

“Will you kiss me?”

“Into bed first before we fall over and I crack one of my ribs.” Keeping one arm around her waist he pulled back the covers and gently shoved her into the bed and then slid in beside her. “This is a very comfortable bed, come closer...that’s better. You can hold my shirt - just don’t choke me. If we had music I’d think I was in heaven.”