Does he think I was not brought up properly? Does he think my training is lacking? All my many faults are mine, and mine alone.
Felford says nothing. He just sits on my bed while a winter storm lashes at the window. I feel as if I’m frozen in a tableau.
“What about school teachers, outside influences?” he asks suddenly. Breaking the silence.
“I was tutored at home,” I assure him.
I know I lost my mind last night, but that truly is no fault of my upbringing. If he is looking for answers, the root cause is me. It is not something that can be fixed by additional instruction. Unfortunately.
“What about friends at university?” He asks.
For some reason, my cheeks are heating at that question and my hands wish to pick nervously at the blankets covering me. I have nothing to hide about friends, but the subject of university is potentially stormy.
I can feel Felford’s gaze burning into me and reading my guilt as if I’m a book laid out before him.
“I stated that I wanted you to have an education,” he says, and the displeasure is clear in his voice.
“And I did!” I plead. “Online.”
Felford swears, and I flinch. I always thought enrolling me in an online university was obeying the law of Felford’s stipulations, but not the spirit. But who am I to question my parents?
“Do you have any friends at all?”
Gods. He really does doubt me. Not that I can blame him. But he needn’t worry about bad influences leading me astray.
I tilt my chin up. “A good vessel shouldn’t have any distractions. They should be fully devoted to their husband.”
Not that my reassurance is good news. A bad upbringing can be remedied. Bad influences can be eliminated. But I have neither. Last night’s only cause was the fact I am defective. And that’s not so easy to fix.
For a moment, our eyes meet. Felford looks utterly astonished. I drop my gaze.
“So you grew up and have been living all alone with only your fundamentalist parents for company?”
I nod. Why is he making that sound like a bad thing?
He lets out a heavy sigh. “Gods, Lucien, I had no idea.”
What do I say to that? All the details of my upbringing are in the paperwork of our union. He would have known all this. Unless his parents checked the particulars and he married me purely because he was told to. Which is not a bad thing. It’s good to obey one’s parents. It is not a slight to me that he didn’t bother to look at any of my documents.
“Most of the world has moved on. Few people are truly as fundamental as your parents,” he says abruptly.
I nod again. This conversation is straying far from anything I have ever rehearsed. I truly do not know what to say or what is expected of me. I thought he was trying to ferret out the cause of my awful behavior, but now I have no idea.
Felford sighs again. This time sounding as if all the weight of the world is on his shoulders. The sound makes me squirm. It’s a clear declaration of how much of a burden I am.
“Eat the soup. All of it.”
My gaze flicks up to him in surprise. His look is stern and uncompromising. I was not expecting his command. Not at all. But Butterflies flutter in my stomach and my heart does a happy little skip. Finally. Clear instructions. I know what he wants and the relief of that is immense. I hurriedly pick up my spoon and do as I am told.
He watches me as I eat, and I could purr for the joy of it. I finish and look up at him for further instructions.
“Well done,” he smiles.
I beam back at him. The taste of approval is far more delicious than the soup. I want to savor it forever and ever and never let it go. He blinks and looks completely taken aback. His cheeks color ever so slightly. Oh gods, have I never smiled at him before? Have I frightened him?
A dark look clouds his eyes, and I want to cry. Can we not go back to a few moments ago? Everything was looking so promising. He was pleased with me and it was the most wonderful thing in the world.
“I am so very sorry about last night and Gregory.”
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.
