Chapter Twenty-Two
Chase chewed his buttered toast and stared at his wife, completely agog at the way things had gone. The plans for the school for women were sprawled beside his teacup. He studied them carefully, admiring the plans for family rooms. One of the great difficulties of most institutions that helped women was that they forced mothers to give up their babies, their children.
He refused to do such a thing. Surely, that created a greater ill.
And Victoria had pointed out that it would be a very good thing indeed to keep families together. He’d agreed wholeheartedly. And the large complex of four houses that were to be built allowed for single ladies to stay in one grouping and mothers with their children in their own rooms. And then, of course, there were the classrooms and nurseries where the children would be cared for while the mothers learned employable skills.
None of them would be taught to be servants. For servants, too, could not keep their children. No, they’d be taught reading, writing, bookkeeping, sewing, anything that could make them employable in a shop with continued financial support by him until they were independent.
Yes, it was a good endeavor indeed. All thanks to Victoria. He was going to help many in need.
He snuck a curious and somewhat trepidatious glance over at his wife.
She was pouring over the newssheet, reading every single detail of the divorce case he would soon testify in.
“My goodness,” she said, picking up her delicately painted porcelain cup. “It sounds as if Lord Worthington really is a complete fool.”
Chase picked up the silver coffee pot, filled her cup, and then added more of the steaming liquid to his. “He’s a mean old sot, certainly. And he cares more about the idea that someone has had his property than anything else.”
“Well done, you and Lady W,” she said firmly, returning to the commentary on the page.
Placing the pot back, he eyed his toast. He eyed his coffee. He eyed his wife.
Their morning at the mahogany breakfast table was what many would assume was domestic bliss.
This was far from domestic bliss.
In fact, he couldn’t decide if it was heaven or hell, because…there was no escaping the excruciating fact that he was breaking his vow in slow degrees.
Oh, he had not done the one thing he could not do. They could not have an heir. He had to be careful. He couldn’t lose control with her. Ever.
It was galling to know he could never spend inside her. It made making love to her a delicious torture. For he could never fully give in. As he so wished he could.
And quite frankly, he was falling in love with his wife. The thing he’d been so certain he would not do. He’d gone from certain there would be no desire or love, to not trusting anything anymore. Because he desired the hell out of her. At every possible opportunity.
He loved the way she perused her passions. The way she was kind to him. The way she admired what he had sacrificed. And the way she embraced life and herself, despite the fact it was not easy.
Instead of being furious about him in the newssheets, she had applauded his and Lady Worthington’s successful endeavors.
Victory plunked down her cup and shook her head. “Poor Lady Worthington. She has had to put up with a great deal. Has she not?”
“She has,” he agreed, leaning back in his Adam’s chair. “It’s been quite a difficult few years for her, and that is the reason why I agreed to this, of course.”
“I’m most proud of you,” she declared. “Are you really going to have to go stand up in front of all those Lords and testify to the fact that you have been her lover?”
“I am.” He grimaced. “And listen to a maid confess that she came in upon us in a rather indelicate state.”
Her brows rose. “However did you manage that? Or have you paid the maid?”
He wished it was that simple. “You wish me to explain it?”
She nodded, sipping her coffee.
He put the last of his toast down, wiped his hand on the linen napkin, then rushed, “I kept my breeches and boots on, and I climbed into her bed under the counterpane.”
“Very wise,” she chimed in. “Best to be shod in case you needed to make a rapid escape.”
Her response caused him to grin. And he relaxed a trifle. “She had on her dressing gown. She never even had to get into the bed. The maid opened the door, saw the two of us. Then of course, that is more than enough to make a lady seem as if she has…”