I drop my gaze down to the empty soup bowl in my lap. My heart sinks down. Down to the very depths. Of course he cannot truly be pleased with me. Not after last night. But why is he apologizing? I’m the one who was disobedient and lost their wits. Is this his way of politely bringing the topic up?

“And…” starts Felford before breaking off and coughing awkwardly. He takes a deep breath and begins again. “On our wedding night…and when you were ripe, the Husband’s Tea has left me with no memories.” He takes another deep breath. “Did I scare you? Was I rough?”

Oh no, no, no. This is not a polite topic of conversation at all. Such things should never, ever be mentioned. My cheeks are burning so hot I think they might blister.

“Of course not,” I mumble.

“Lucien, look at me,” he says softly.

I raise my head. Felford is all blurry. I blink and tears fall down my burning cheeks. Felford’s expression twists into one of utter horror and misery.

“You were a little vigorous. I was a little sore,” I try to appease since I cannot deny my tears.

But Felford looks even more devastated than ever. “Is that why you went to the healer?”

I nod and lower my gaze again. Oh, he knows everything. I thought I heard the healer’s voice at some point during my embarrassing breakdown. It makes sense that the healer would have told my husband about my diagnosis and not just my exam. I really wouldn’t blame Felford if he sends me to an asylum. Not only am I frigid, I’m also apparently prone to fits of hysteria.

“I’m so very sorry,” says Felford and it sounds as if his heart is breaking.

It must be awful to have a broken vessel. He deserves so much better.

His hand reaches out and his gentle fingers brush my tears away. It takes all of my willpower not to lean into his touch. Every part of me wants to chase it. I want more. So much more. But I do not deserve even this small kindness.

His hand leaves me and the room feels colder in the absence of his touch.

“I’ll leave you in peace so you can rest,” says Felford.

I nod and keep my eyes down as he walks away.

Marriage is so much harder than I ever imagined.

Chapter twelve

Lucien

I’m clattering down these stairs in such a rush, I’m going to break my neck. But I took far too long in deciding what to wear, and now I’m going to be late.

Felford looks up from where he is waiting for me, and the lobby suddenly feels a lot colder. But he doesn’t berate me for my tardiness. Instead, his gaze sweeps over my outfit and his mouth lifts slightly in a bemused smile.

My hands flutter over my suit. “The dark color will hide mud splatters,” I explain.

Felford chuckles and my heart sinks. I do not know what to wear for a walk with one’s husband around the gardens. In winter.

If it were summer, or I was a guest taking a tour, then I’d have some clue. This has me floundering. And getting it wrong.

I peer cautiously up at Felford. He is dressed informally in jeans and a thick woolen jumper. The navy blue color suits him immensely. He looks dashingly handsome.

All of this because he thinks I need some fresh air. I really don’t understand why he is going to so much effort and spending his precious time with me.

He offers his arm and I take it automatically. The warm feel of him is divine. I can feel the definition of his muscles and he is all man. It’s making my stomach flutter.

“No wellies?” he asks in a slightly teasing tone that makes me flush.

“They are by the garden door,” I explain.

His eyebrow lifts, but he says nothing. He just leads me to the garden door. Reluctantly, I release his arm to put on my wellies.

“You wear wellies over your shoes?” he asks.

“Of course,” I mutter as I shove my shoe-covered feet into the waterproof rubber boots.

Felford is just watching me. I guess he is happy to get his leather shoes muddy. It’s a little rude to give the staff unnecessary work, but it’s hardly my place to say anything.

“Let me guess,” says Felford. “It’s unseemly to flash one’s socks?”

Well, when he says it like that, it does sound ridiculous. Damn my uncontrollable blushing. I straighten up. If he were anyone else, I’d glare at him.

“Yes,” I say, probably too curtly.

Felford chuckles and offers me his arm again. I take it gratefully, and we step outside. The sky is heavy with clouds. Completely overcast, yet strangely pleasant. The cold winter air is biting but also refreshing. It’s blowing away all the cobwebs in my mind. Felford was right. I do need this.

A little niggling voice in the back of my mind wants me to use this opportunity to further scope out the gardens. Maybe even trick Felford into showing me what I need to find. But I ignore the whispering voice. Today is for trying to get my marriage on track.

“Thank you for accepting my invitation,” says Felford. “We should start again. Get to know one another, since I’ve been so very wrong about you.”

What am I supposed to say to that? I can’t think of a single thing, so I just nod.

“What’s your favorite type of music?” Felford asks.

Apparently, he is keen to launch straight into his getting to know each other plan.

“Vivaldi,” I supply smoothly.

Felford raises an eyebrow at me. “Anything more recent?”

“Beethoven,” I amend.

We walk in silence. Is he pleased with my answer? Should I change it? Those are very respected classical composers, so surely that is an acceptable answer? Unless he hates both of them. My stomach twists uncomfortably.

“I like Imagine Dragons,” he says.

I turn to stare at him. I know it’s rude, but I can’t help it. Is he truly confessing to enjoying modern music? It’s so uncouth.

“What about films? What is your favorite?” he asks. Then he suddenly exclaims, “Oh gods, you were allowed to watch films, weren’t you?”

I lift my chin up. “Yes. I have a laptop.” I’m not ignorant of the modern world or mundane society. He doesn’t need to worry about that.

“Thank heavens,” mutters Felford.