Jo Beverley - [Rogue ] (30 page)

Leander was laughing so much, he had little strength. "Bounce on the bed, children," he commanded. "Make it let go."

They gleefully obeyed, and with a great tug, Judith emerged into Leander's arms to be swung around. "All still there?" he asked with a grin.

Judith solemnly inspected her toes. "Saved in the nick of time."

"Good," he said, and winked at her. "Perhaps you should sleep with me until we have that carnivorous bed tamed."

"What does carnivorous mean?" Rosie asked. Both children were still bouncing on the bed.

"Meat eating," said Leander.

"Oh," said Rosie, unconcerned.

Bastian leapt off. "Silly! People are meat, too, you know."

Rosie scrambled off too. "I am
not
meat."

"Yes you are. Just like a silly sheep."

"No I'm
not!"

"Yes, you are!"

"I'm not. I'm not!"

"Stop!" Judith commanded, horrified at the monsters her children were becoming.

They both stopped, but glared at one another.

"Bastian," Judith pronounced, "after breakfast you will write thirty times in your best plate, I must not be rude to my sister. Rosie, you will prepare to explain to me in what way people are not meat."

"Yes, Mama," they said in sullen unison.

"Good. Then go and dress."

When the children had gone, Leander drew Judith into his arms for a kiss. "How stern you are. In what way are people not meat?"

"In no way at all," said Judith, flustered to be behaving in such a way in daylight. "Though Rosie may bring in the matter of our immortal souls. I merely hope she will think on the subject."

He grinned. "May I hope to hear her dissertation?"

"Of course, though you mustn't expect too much from a six-year-old."

The children continued to be subdued throughout breakfast, though Leander's reminder that there would be riding later did raise the clouds a little. When they were finished, Bastian went off to do his punishment, and Rosie was told to say her piece.

She stood, hands clasped in front of her. "I have considered, Mama, and it would appear that people
are
meat, except that God made us special and gave us immortal souls. God also gave us dominion over the animals," she added firmly, "so they
don't
eat us."

Judith decided to leave that error uncorrected for the moment, and was about to congratulate her daughter on her thoughts, when Rosie said, "But this has made me wonder about Daniel, Mama."

"Daniel?" queried Judith with a sinking feeling.

"In the lions' den. The lions were going to eat him, weren't they?"

Before Judith could answer that, Rosie carried on, "And the Christians in Rome were thrown to the lions." Her lips started to quiver. "Mama, I don't want to be eaten!"

Judith opened her arms, and Rosie ran into them. "Truly, Rosie, people are very rarely eaten, and never in England." She looked to Leander, hoping that was true.

"Absolutely," he said. "There are no large carnivores in England except in menageries."

Rosie peeped at him. "Truly?"

"Word of a gentleman."

"And the bed wasn't truly eating Mama, was it?"

"Absolutely not. We were playing."

"Grown-ups don't play," the little girl said with authority.

He smiled at Judith in a way that made her hot. "Oh yes they do."

"Papa didn't play," said Rosie.

"Well, this papa does."

Reassured, Rosie went off to prepare for her ride. Judith shook her head. "How strange it must be to be six, and not sure what is real in the world and what is not."

"Are you sure what is real and what is not?"

"Of course," said Judith, then wondered. She wasn't sure of much in some areas.

"Look at my situation with the Temple. What is real, and what is not?"

"We will find out as soon as we get there," said Judith firmly.

"Yes, of course." But he didn't sound convinced. "What are your plans for the day?"

"I have none in particular. I did think I might buy some Christmas items. We're used to making some decorations for the house..." She trailed off at the thought of the Temple. "The children will like to put up wreaths in their rooms, at least," she said.

"I hope you will put up wreaths everywhere. I want a rollicking English Christmas. Spiced ale and sugarplums, holly and mistletoe."

Judith saw he was serious. "Very well, then," she said, but she couldn't quite imagine it. "I would like to send something special to my family if you don't object," she continued. "Some food and gifts. And I suppose I will find more interesting toys for the children here than in Somerset."

"Toys," he said, bright eyed. "I, too, must look into it."

"There is no need for us both to buy them a gift. They will be spoiled."

"No they won't. And I, too, want an excuse to rummage around in a toy shop."

Judith shook her head at him. "Then buy gifts for your cousins, sir."

"But they want to kill me," he protested, in a way that showed he did not take the matter seriously at all.

Judith, however, felt a frisson of alarm at his words. "Don't joke about it."

"Why not? I've told you it's nonsense. They doubtless hope to keep me away so they can continue to live at the Temple, and shave off large amounts of the earldom's income, but they would not go so far as murder. It hardly seems appropriate to take them gifts, however, when I intend to throw them out."

"I would have thought it very desirable. Even if you have to be firm with them, you'll want to turn them up sweet afterward."

"How well you know me already," he murmured, advancing for another kiss. "How easy is it to turn you up sweet, true wife of mine...?" But then they heard the children returning and moved apart Bastian presented his lines for approval, and then Leander took them away to the equestrian center.

Judith ordered the carriage and went shopping.

She was modest in her purchases, for after settling her bill with Mr. Browne, she did not have a vast amount of money, though it was more than she would have dreamed of weeks ago. On consideration, she was resolved to inform Timothy Rossiter immediately that she had no further need of his allowance. It was hardly his fault his brother had been an improvident fool, and she could not in conscience take any more of his money. Her overgenerous pin money, even what was left of it, would surely be adequate for all her needs.

It was a joy to visit the shops with money in hand. She bought both children one of the new jigsaws.

She also bought Rosie an ark, complete with little wooden animals, and Bastian a castle with wooden soldiers.

She purchased ribbon and wire to make wreaths and kissing boughs, smiling like a fool at the thought of Leander stealing a kiss under the mistletoe. Oh, she, too, wanted an old-fashioned, rollicking Christmas. She hoped there were carolers at Temple Knollis, and perhaps a mystery play nearby.

Walking by more emporiums, with her footman in tow, she couldn't resist a white fur muff and hat for Rosie, which meant she had to buy an equivalent gift for Bastian. In the end she bought him a pair of York tan gloves, an exact replica of the style Leander favored.

At the last moment, she bought Leander another pair. She was sure he had plenty, and probably had them custom made, but she had to give him something, and could think of nothing else. Perhaps she could make him something, but couldn't imagine what he would find acceptable.

Embroidered slippers? She hardly thought so. Look at his reaction to her elderberry wine. Her high spirits flagged a little. Would his idea of a merry Christmas and hers really mesh?

* * *

The children were home when she returned, bubbling with excitement at their first ride in a school. Rosie proclaimed that she
had
to have a proper habit if she was to hold up her head. Judith's first thought was that it was a ridiculous extravagance when she would grow out of one every year, but then she threw caution to the winds and agreed. She supposed she would need one, too, if she were to learn to ride.

Leander had gone out again, leaving a message to say he would not be in for luncheon, and so the three ate together just like the old days. Except that the meal was cooked and presented by servants, and served on fine china plates.

Judith looked around her with satisfaction. She was growing used to this life of comfort, and her marriage was proving to be a delight. How had she come to be so fortunate?

After the meal, the children wanted to take her on a tour of the local area and show off their explorations. Judith agreed happily and only delayed long enough to put her resolution into action, and write the note to Timothy Rossiter. Addison assured her it would be delivered to Clarges Street, which apparently was not very far away.

Judith felt liberated, as if the last entanglement of her first marriage had been cut. She set off merrily with the children and George to explore Mayfair.

It was as they watched the Guards parading in Hyde Park that a vague sense of malaise, and an ache in her back, resolved itself for Judith. She thought back in her mind. Yes, it was time for her monthly flow.

Her first reaction was disappointment that it would be some days before Leander could show her the right way to perform the marriage act.

Following that came embarrassment. She would have to tell him, and it was not a matter women discussed with men. It had been simple with Sebastian. He had always asked permission to visit her. She would merely say, "I am sorry it is not convenient tonight."

Oh well, if Leander came to her room, she would say the same. Surely he would understand.

But when Leander came to her before dinner, where she sat in her study writing a letter to her mother, he kissed her and touched her in a way that seemed to be laying down promises for the night, and she blurted out, "I'm afraid it is not convenient... I mean.... It's my time of month!" Then wished the earth would swallow her.

"Is it?" he said, just slightly red himself. "I hope it doesn't take you badly."

Judith had never imagined discussing such a matter with a man. "No," she said, looking fixedly at her pen. "I have little trouble."

He turned her face up to him. "Good. It doesn't preclude kissing, though, does it?" And he proceeded to kiss her very thoroughly. "Now," he said, "I thought you might like to visit the theater tonight but if you are unwell..."

Judith felt a thrill of excitement. "I would
love
it. I have never been to a real theater."

He shook his head, but smiled. "It is a joy to me to show you the world, Judith."

"May the children come, too? They have never been to a theater either, and who knows when they will next have the opportunity?"

He was a little taken aback. "I'm not sure. The main play is
Hamlet,
which may be a trifle somber for Rosie."

"That's the one with ghosts, isn't it? But I would like to try. We could take George and Betty, and they could bring the children home if they don't care for it." His quizzical look penetrated her excitement, and she flushed. "Oh, I'm sorry. It doubtless isn't done at all, is it?"

"I can't imagine why not," he said with a sudden smile. "Introducing the children to Shakespeare. Educating the servants, too. We'll set a fashion."

Judith bit her lip. "I'm sorry. Disregard it, please."

"Not at all. I think it an excellent idea. You must never be governed by what is common practice. Most people have no imagination. But, if we're to venture among Society, I must insist that you play the countess. Wear your wedding dress and these." He casually produced a parure of topaz and amber.

"Oh, how lovely." She carelessly added, "They remind me of your eyes."

He looked at the jewelry in mock alarm. "Good lord, woman. Next
you'll
be writing odes to
my
gleaming orbs."

* * *

Judith and the children were entranced by Drury Lane Theater, as much by the handsome chandeliers, the ornamented ceiling, and the glittering audience as by the stage. Bastian and Rosie had to be restrained from leaning out to study the merry activity of the pit.

The pit was a maelstrom of fashionable bucks, and lively ladies; the circles and boxes were chattering ranks of silk and jewels. Betty and George sat quietly at the back of the box, but they were wide-eyed and their excitement could be felt. Judith was delighted that her plan had brought them here.

Their box was near the stage, and seemed in an excellent position.

"How does one obtain a box at the theater?" Judith asked Leander.

"Many people hire one for the Season, but it costs a great deal. Others rent them for the night. After all, no one attends the theater every night, so people who have a box rent it out when they don't require it The theater insists on it, or they'd have half-empty houses most of the time."

"Did you rent this one then?"

"No, I used my influence." He grinned at her. "It's the Belcraven box. The duke is Lucien's father. As neither the duke nor Lucien are in town, I was easily able to arrange to have it."