“A token apology for shouting at you this morning,” Lord Vale said. “I was a cad and a blackguard and the worst of husbands.”
A corner of her mouth tilted up. “You weren’t quite that bad.”
He shook his head. “It’s not the thing, to yell like a madman at one’s lady wife, and I won’t do it as a rule, I assure you. At least not after I’ve had my morning tea, in any case.”
She opened the box to find small garnet-drop earrings. “How lovely.”
“You like them?”
“Yes, thank you.”
Across from her, he nodded and leapt to his feet. “Excellent. I’ll bid you a good night, then.”
She felt the brush of his lips against her hair, and then he was at the door. He touched the doorknob and then half turned toward her. “I say, no need to wait up for me tonight.”
She arched an eyebrow.
He grimaced. “That is, I shan’t be coming to your rooms. Too soon after our wedding night, what? I just thought you should know so you wouldn’t be worried. Sleep well, my heart.”
She inclined her head, biting her lip to keep back the tears, but he was already out the door.
Melisande blinked rapidly, then looked back to the little box with the garnet earrings. They were quite lovely, but she never wore earrings. Her ears weren’t pierced. She touched one of the garnets with a fingertip and wondered if he’d ever looked—really looked—at her at all.
She closed the box gently and put it in her embroidery bag. Then she gathered her things and left the room, Mouse trailing behind.
Chapter Five
The second beggar stood, and all his rags fell away, revealing a horrible thing, half beast, half man, and entirely covered with black and rotting scales.
“Damn me, will you?” rasped the demon, for such it obviously was. “I will see you damned in my stead!”
Jack began to shrink, his legs and arms growing shorter, until he stood only the height of a child. At the same time, his nose grew and hooked down until it nearly met his chin, which had elongated and curved up.
The demon roared with laughter and vanished in a sulfurous cloud of smoke. And then Jack stood all alone in the road, the sleeves of his soldier’s uniform trailing in the dust. . . .
—from LAUGHING JACK
“Ah, lovely,” Jasper said over dinner three days later. “Beef and gravy with Yorkshire pudding, the v"9%„ery epitome of an English supper.” Could he sound any more of an ass if he tried?
He sipped from his wineglass and watched over the rim to see if his new wife would agree with his self- assessment of assedness, but as usual, the dratted woman wore a polite mask.
“Cook does make a pleasant Yorkshire pudding,” she murmured.
He’d hardly seen her in the last few days, and this was the first supper they’d shared together. Yet she didn’t scold or fret or indeed show any emotion at all. He set his wineglass down and tried to pinpoint the source of his discontent. This was what he’d wanted, surely? To have a complacent wife, one who didn’t make scenes or cause a fuss? He’d thought—when he’d thought ahead at all—that he’d see her now and again, escort her to the odd ball, and when she’d become safely pregnant, discreetly take a mistress. He was well on the way to achieving that goal.
And yet the reality was oddly dissatisfying.
“We’ve invitations to Lady Graham’s annual masked ball, I noticed,” he said as he cut his beef. “Rather a tedious event, of course, what with the need to wear masks. Mine always makes me hot and gives me a terrible urge to sneeze. But I thought you might like to come?”
She winced slightly as she raised her glass of wine. “Thank you for asking, but I don’t think so.”
“Ah.” He applied himself to his meat, feeling a twinge of disappointment. “If a mask is the problem, I can have one made in a trice. Perhaps a gilt one with feathers and little jewels about the eyes?”
She smiled at that. “I should look like a crow in a peacock’s finery. Thank you, but no.”
“Of course.”
“I trust you’ll attend, however,” she said. “I wouldn’t wish to spoil your enjoyment.”