Page 84 of The Favourite

“In truth”—she took a deep breath—“you are far better at handling both of the children than I am.” She could not keep a faint note of resentment out of her voice.

He dropped the cloth, reeling back with an expression of horror upon his face. “Why would you malign me like this, Jane? ‘Tis naught but a pack of foul lies!”

Jane took a deep breath. “I know what you are doing,” she said conversationally.

“Oh?” He walked toward her, setting his hands on her shoulders. “And what is that, wife?”

Jane inwardly cursed her tumultuous heartbeat. She had been doing so well, and now he was going to fluster her again. “You are trying to mislead me. To hoodwink me.”

“Is that what I’m doing?” He compelled her gently back until she was lying flat on the bed. His voice sounded amused, nothing more.

“Yes, and in the past, you would have succeeded in frustrating me,” she admitted breathlessly.

He arched an eyebrow. “But not anymore?” he suggested.

Wordlessly, she shook her head. “I believe I am starting to get your measure now, my lord.”

“But I don’t want you to change, Jane.” His suddenly serious tone caught her off guard.

“Not even in my opinion of you?” she faltered.

He cocked his head as though considering this. “I’m not sure,” he said frowning.

“Even if it’s for the better?” she persisted.

To her surprise, she thought he looked fleetingly troubled. “I should not want to give you the wrong impression about me,” he said evasively.

“You—!” Jane broke off her words in annoyance. “You try to give me the wrong impression all the time, you aggravating creature!”

He had the temerity to laugh at this. “I don’t know, Jane, you sound a little frustrated, right now,” he teased. “Let’s see what we can do about that, shall we? Hmm?” Jane lay there blinking up at him as he shrugged out of his tunic. “Now, you must promise me, you will not take out your wrath on anyone else. That’s my role.”

“What is?” she asked, feeling quite at sea.

“You must use me as your outlet for stresses and strains,” he said firmly. “I want you to. I should like it.”

“Use you ...?” she repeated blankly. Then a horrible suspicion occurred to her. “Are you trying to get me with child, my lord?” she asked abruptly. The prospect of another baby on the way so soon appalled her.

He blanched. “Gods no! We already have far too many in our household! Every time I so much as open a door an infant tumbles through it!”

“We have two,” she corrected him smartly. “And that comment does Anne a grave injustice. She is a very conscientious caretaker; it is not her fault that Bertrand …”

“I don’t want to talk about Anne or Bertrand,” he told her, joining her on the bed, having stripped down to his braies with surprising swiftness. “Though, if we were to catch for another child, it would not be the end of the world, I suppose.” He pulled her into his arms. “Anne could deal with it,” he continued indifferently. “As you pointed out, she is more than capable of dealing with our monstrous progeny.”

Jane spluttered. “Neither Celestia nor Bertrand is remotely monstrous!” she objected unevenly. Nor were they, strictly speaking, their offspring, but she didn’t have the breath to add that part, or the inclination really. It was starting to feel like they did all belong together somehow. “I had thought—that is, I felt sure you would attend some palace gathering this evening.”

“Yes,” he agreed. “I had meant to spare you tonight, but I find I’ve simply changed my mind.”

“Spare me?”

“From my lusty embraces so soon after your deflowering,” he elaborated.

Jane felt herself blush. “Oh, I see.”

“Have you any objection to make?” he asked politely. “If so, there is some event I should in all probability attend.” He had slipped his hand between them and rested it on her stomach, waiting for her response.

Jane was not sure what to say. She did not really want him to go, but to admit as much felt a little unseemly. “Is the event an important one?” she heard herself enquire in a strangled voice.

A smile played about his mouth. She felt very aware of the warmth being generated by his hand against her skin. “Oh, some diplomatic gathering,” he said airily, propping his head on one hand, his elbow resting on her pillow behind her. “The usual crowd.”