Liberty for Paul (9 page)

Chapter 11

The next week breezed by. Liberty spent three days being a lady’s companion, one day acting as the perfect vicar’s wife, and to fill the other three days she’d decided to join some of the local organizations.

The decision to join the local sewing circle had come about when Mrs. Jenkins, the director, had come to her home unannounced and saw her hemming one of her gowns. Liberty didn’t think she was very handy with a needle, but the stubborn Mrs. Jenkins claimed her work was acceptable and wouldn’t take no for an answer.

She also joined an organization that helped a group of local illiterates learn to read after she saw a flyer for it posted outside the local tavern of all places. She loved to read and could think of nothing better to do with her Tuesday mornings than to help others learn.

Finally, she’d decided she’d spend her last free day doing light shopping for herself and the household. However, that plan faltered when she very quickly realized that Mr. Grimes had no lines of credit in any store in Bath. Therefore, with nothing else to do, she decided it would be a good thing to bring baskets of food to the less fortunate. She’d started with the sick and elderly first, and asked around to see if others needed it.

Her husband acted excited when she told him about her chosen activities. She’d conveniently left off that she was getting paid to act as a companion to Andrew’s mother. She didn’t want Mr. Greedy to confiscate her wages like he had her dowry. Elizabeth had insisted on paying her herself, claiming she didn’t like to take money from Andrew. Liberty didn’t understand why not. The man had buckets of it now that he’d literally struck gold. Last summer he’d built mines on his land to dig for silver, and instead, he found gold.

Brooke liked to tease him and say it was because of her that his life turned to gold. Oddly enough, he’d usually just kiss her and say, “I know.”

Liberty sighed. Oh, how wonderful it must be to love your spouse, she thought with a wistful smile. Unfortunately she’d never know that feeling with Paul er Mr. Grimes. Drat. She was having a harder time now than before remembering even to
think
of him as Mr. Grimes.

The man was absolutely bound to get her to call him Paul. And the problem was she’d already had a hard enough time thinking of him as ‘Mr. Grimes’ before his newest campaign. But now it was nearly impossible. And she knew if she started to think of him as ‘Paul’, she’d slip and call him that, and then he’d gloat, no doubt.

Earlier, at dinner, he’d been absolutely infuriating. She had just taken her seat at their little kitchen table, which, for some odd reason, she didn’t mind the intimacy of it. Anyway, he came into the kitchen with the two pails of her bathwater from that morning and announced, “Paul’s hungry, is Liberty?”

“Excuse me?” she said, flabbergasted. Here she’d been thinking how sweet he’d been all week by bringing hot water up to her everyday so she could bathe in her room, and he has to go and ruin it with that ridiculous statement.

“Paul said, ‘Paul’s hungry, is Liberty?’” he repeated as if she were the idiot of the pair.

“I heard what you said,” she snapped.

He smiled at her and silently took a seat across the table.

Unable to take his teasing smile another second, she demanded, “What are you doing?”

Shrugging his shoulders, he glanced down to where his hand was on the serving piece. “Paul’s just about to serve you your lamb. Scoot your plate over here a bit closer, Liberty.”

Resisting the urge to whack him upside the head with her plate, she pushed it closer to him and watched as he put the better piece of lamb on her plate. “Thank you,” she said when he pushed her plate back to her.

“You’re welcome,” he said, fixing his own plate.

“What did you do today?” she asked, becoming startled when she realized those words had actually passed through her lips. She jumped again when she realized she was actually interested in his answer.

“Paul had a very productive day,” he said, nodding enthusiastically. “Paul taught lessons to a group of boys. Paul thinks they’re actually beginning to understand it. Then Paul visited a sick man and Paul was asked to pray for him because the family thinks his time is near. Then Paul came home and emptied Liberty’s bathwater, and now Paul is about to eat.”

“Stop that,” she ground out, irritated with herself that she’d even bothered to listen to all that nonsense.

He set his fork down, wiped his mouth and glumly said, “Paul’s sorry Paul’s eating offends. Paul will wait until Liberty’s done.”

She wanted to laugh at him. He knew what she was talking about. She’d bet her life on it. Yet, he was playing the idiot just to get to her. Fighting the smile that was tugging on her lips, she forced herself to scowl and ask, “What are you about?”

He blinked. “Nothing,” he said innocently.

“Well, stop it,” she snapped.

“Stop what?” His face was a look of pure innocence. If she didn’t know better, she’d believe him innocent of just about anything with a face like that.

“Stop talking about yourself in the third person,” she ground out.

“Oh, Paul’s sorry,” he said, smiling when she pursed her lips. “Paul decided since Liberty cannot seem to remember Paul’s name, Paul should remind Liberty of it as often as possible.”

“I know your name. I just choose not to speak it,” she said airily.

“And why is that?” he asked, cocking his head with interest.

“Because it’s not proper,” she ground out, stabbing a leaf of lettuce with her fork.

“Proper?” he asked disbelievingly. “You won’t call me by my name because it’s not proper?” The amusement in his face left, and a cold impassive stare took its place.

“Correct,” she said pertly. “Most couples address each other formally.”

“I see,” he said, though he looked like he didn’t understand at all. “Not your parents. Not your sister,” he said in defensive tone. “Why do you insist upon it?”

“They’re different,” she said seriously.

“You mean because the circumstances of their marriages are different?” he asked flatly.

“Well, yes. Good point. Both couples you mentioned clearly love each other,” she agreed before taking a swig of her drink.

“I see,” he repeated. His voice turned gravely serious, almost like he was about to impart some bad news. “Liberty, may I ask you but one question? Then I’ll leave you be for the rest of the evening, I promise.”

“All right,” she said hesitantly, uncertain how she felt at the prospect of being asked a serious question by him or the prospect of left to her own devices all evening.

“When you think about me in private, how do you think of me?”

She nearly choked on her drink. “Pardon me?” she said more harshly than she meant to.

“I mean in your head. When you hear me coming or something like that, what do you call me in your mind?” he elaborated.

“Oh, in that case, ‘Mr. Grimes’,” Liberty said quickly, ducking her head to cover the red creeping up her face. She’d been aware that on a few occasions she’d accidentally thought of him as Paul, or at least started to before she corrected herself.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” he said quietly.

For the rest of the meal the only noises heard were created by the occasional scrape of silver on plate.

Chapter 12

Unable to lie abed a moment longer, Paul got up before dawn the following morning. He felt like such a fool for his idiotic behavior the night before at dinner. Or perhaps he felt the fool because she’d as much as told him she’d never come to care for him.

Because he knew she’d grown to expect it, he considered bringing up her water to her room before dismissing the thought with the excuse that she’d survive one day without a warm bath.

Today was the day her family was coming see them and bring Liberty’s five hundred plus volume library with them. He scowled. He had no problem that she liked to read. It was
what
she liked to read that was the problem. He’d heard many indirect—and direct—references to Liberty’s love to read books on etiquette. That was the reason for the scowl. He’d bet everything he had, even his life, these books were where she’d gotten the absurd notion into her head that even in private she could not address her husband by his first name.

After scratching out a few words telling Liberty he’d meet her at her uncle’s this afternoon, he set out to run a few errands, or at least he’d intended to.

Instead of running the errands on his list, he went fishing. It was one of his only pastimes he could do all year long. It may be a little more difficult in winter with the ice and such, but it was still possible.

He fished and caught absolutely nothing until the sun was directly overhead. Studying the sun’s position, he decided it was time to call it quits and go to the baron’s house.

A quick change of clothes and he was on the road.

No need to ride too fast. The Watson estate was fairly close. Anyway it’s not like they’d be waiting for him. There’d be more than enough people there for everyone to talk to; nobody would even notice his absence. Especially his wife.

They’d been married almost two weeks now and he still had yet to push her out of her shell. He’d come close a few times, but he hadn’t yet succeeded. Perhaps he could do that tonight.

A groom was waiting for him by the stables and he gladly handed the reins to the shivering man and walked briskly to the house.

“Rather chilly out, isn’t it?” Alex Banks, Liberty’s cousin and the baron’s oldest son, said as he walked up the front steps.

“Freezing,” Paul confirmed. “Everyone inside?”

Alex nodded. “Just a word to the wise, Paul, Liberty’s madder’n a wet hen,” he said with reverence.

Paul had met Alex at the same time he’d met Liberty and the rest of her family. He was a good man, if not a little unusual. Alex was extremely smart, but often missed some of the most obvious things. It wasn’t that he meant to be obtuse, he just couldn’t help it. He sometimes used words and phrases that made people second guess his intelligence, but Paul assumed he probably did it on purpose. In society, the poor man had somehow been termed Arid Alex, due to his calm, unexciting personality and his scandal free past.

“Is she now?” Paul asked with a slight grin.

“Yes,” Alex said, nodding, then pushed his spectacles up when they slipped down his nose a bit.

Paul’s hand immediately went to his own spectacles and readjusted them. He had no idea why he did so, there was nothing wrong with them; but when a glasses wearer sees another glasses wearer adjust his, the need to adjust one’s own glasses becomes irresistible and they soon find their own hand messing with their glasses. It was quite an oddity really, kind of like how yawns seem to be contagious.

“Hmm, well, I’ve never seen a wet hen, I admit. Perhaps after I go upstairs I’ll see how one behaves,” Paul said, walking inside.

He’d never say it to Alex, but he was actually a little worried walking into the dining room. Though he’d tried several times to get her worked up, he didn’t want her in a temper here. He’d done all his agitation in private where he thought he’d be able to handle her better. Who knew what might happen if she got angry here. Or maybe, he thought with a smile, there was nothing to worry about. In the past she’d never taken her wrath out on him in front of an audience if she could help it.

“Thank goodness, we can finally start eating,” declared Brooke as soon as Paul walked in.

“I’m sorry, Brooke. If I had known my absence was going to cause an expectant mother to starve, I would have been here sooner,” he teased. Why were they waiting for him?

“She’s not starving,” Andrew said with a snort. “She’s been snacking on chocolate she brought with her in her reticule.”

“That, and filching biscuits when she thinks nobody’s looking,” Madison chimed in.

Brooke sent them both a mock scowl.

Paul took the empty seat next to a seething Liberty. “Where have you been?” she snapped, then tried to force a smile to her lips to try to soften her words.

“Out,” he said evenly.

“Out?” she repeated quietly, making extra effort to keep her voice low. “And where you were, did they not have clocks?”

“No,” he said, shaking his head. He could hear her grinding her teeth. He hadn’t meant to be late and keep everyone waiting on him. He hadn’t even known he was late. “What time is it?” he asked of no one in particular.

“Don’t you own a pocket watch like all other men?” Liberty asked him sharply.

“It’s broken,” he said simply, shifting his gaze to the baron as he opened his watch.

“It’s three o’clock,” Baron Watson said earnestly before shoving his watch back into his pocket.

Paul had never been so late in his life. He was supposed to have been there at one. He was two hours past and they had waited all that time. “Once again, I’m sorry,” he said to the whole room.

With the exception of his wife, everyone mumbled something about it being of no importance.

The food was then served and several conversations started, none of which included either Liberty or Paul.

Halfway through the meal, Paul decided he’d paid for his sin enough and said, “Liberty, I said I was sorry. I lost track of the time. I apologize that I made everyone wait.”

“It’s all right,” she said archly. “I understand that I, your wife, am not important enough for you to remember.”

“I didn’t forget you,” he ground out. “I lost track of the time. Those are two very different things.”

She flicked her wrist dismissively. “Whatever you say.”

Life was too short to argue with one’s wife during a family luncheon, Paul concluded before turning to make conversation with his other dinner companions. He found conversation with them was far more entertaining.

After their meal, the men went to the baron’s study to talk while the ladies went to “embroider or something” in the drawing room.

The decision for the split came about after Carolina suggested they all go play parlor games. Her suggestion was met by an extreme amount of groaning, mostly from the men folk. Which thankfully led to John being the men’s saving grace by suggesting, “Why don’t the ladies go embroider or something and the gentlemen will go discuss science.” His suggestion was met by equal amounts of groaning as parlor games had been, but this time by those of the female persuasion.

Paul, Alex, the baron, and Andrew, however, were all so loud voicing their agreement with John, it was hard to know who said what exactly, but the general consensus among the men was it was an excellent idea.

Of course there were a few scowls and a disappointed groan or two from the five women as the men walked away.

“Are things always this way between you two?” Andrew asked as soon as the door shut.

Paul smiled and leaned his shoulder against the window. “No.”

“You know you two are very fascinating to watch,” Alex said, taking a seat behind his father’s desk. He started to shuffle through some papers on the desk and smiled brightly when he found what he’d been looking for. “Almost as fascinating as a pair of hedgehogs I’ve been watching mate down by the pasture.”

“Excuse me,” Paul said, blinking.

“I said, you two are quite fascinating.”

“Yes, I heard that part, but what does that have to do with hedgehogs?”

“Well, not hedgehogs in general. Just when they’re mating,” Alex said to clarify.

Paul stared at him. Why on earth was this man comparing the fight he’d had with his wife to hedgehog mating patterns?

“See,” Alex started, excitedly. “When the male hedgehog wants to mate with the female he—”

“That’s quite enough, son,” his father said, placing a hand on his brother’s forearm. “I don’t believe it’s wise to continue this vein of conversation with the young lady’s father present.” He cast a pointed look at John.

“Or me,” Andrew muttered.

Paul would have muttered the same thing if he’d been Andrew.

“In that case, forget I said anything about Paul and Liberty,” Alex said thoughtfully. “Now about the hedgehogs down by the pasture—”

“Alex,” Andrew said gently.

“Yes?”

“Stop talking.”

Alex groaned. “What’s the big deal? We’re all men here. It’s not like any of us aren’t familiar with the activity.”

“That may be, but we’re not all interested in the mating habits of hedgehogs,” Andrew said flatly.

Alex blinked at him. “Why not? They’re very interesting creatures.”

“Be that as it may, nobody has the desire to talk about their mating habits just now,” Andrew countered.

Last year Alex told Paul that he and Andrew had gone to Cambridge together and had been friends for the nearly ten years since. Only a true friend of Alex’s could get away with speaking to him this way. If anyone else would have, it would have been perceived as cruel. That was one reason he admired Andrew, he didn’t care that Alex had some unusual tendencies, he just learned to work around them.

“But that’s why we came to the study,” Alex pointed out. “To escape Aunt Carolina making us play charades and to talk about science.”

“Exactly, we’re going to speak some science,” Andrew agreed. “Chemistry to be exact, specifically the combustible elements of Paul and Liberty’s marriage, not the mating habits of hedgehogs.”

“Well said,” the equally scientific-minded baron said.

“I couldn’t agree more,” John said. “Now, son, tell me how are things progressing between you and Liberty.”

“Not so well,” he admitted. Since when did men get together in small groups to discuss their relationship issues? This was uncomfortable. The only reason he’d even bothered to answer John’s question was because even though they were talking about his daughter, he and John had become close and he respected him a great deal. Most of the time anyway. He still wasn’t sure he respected or admired how John manipulated him into marrying Liberty.

“John, cover your ears,” the baron said, causing panic to rise in Paul’s chest. “How are things in the bedchamber?”

“What was that you were saying about those hedgehogs, Alex?” Paul asked hastily, trying to divert the room’s attention from him and his red face. The details of the intimate relations between him and his wife were not up for discussion, even if there weren’t any to discuss.

Alex smiled as his interest. “Well, the male hedgehog will sniff—”

“Stuff it, son,” his father said abruptly, startling them all.

“I think I better go soon,” Paul said, looking out the window. There were several dark clouds outside, threatening to burst at any moment.

“Not so fast,” Andrew said. “Do you remember the day in my study?”

“Oh, you mean the day I found out, unbeknownst to me, my newly established engagement had already been announced two days prior in the paper, and John was hiding in your storage closet? Yes, I remember that day very well,” Paul said sarcastically.

“You did that?” the baron asked his brother, his lips twitching in amusement.

“Yes,” John said, looking slightly embarrassed.

His brother clapped him on the shoulder. “Well done. I don’t think I’d have the brass to do something like that. You’re a braver man than I. Well, except the part about hiding in the closet. A bit cowardly, eh, John?”

“No, not at all. Trust me, you don’t want to be in the room when that man’s in a temper,” John said, pointing a finger at Paul.

“Oh, is that why you matched him with Liberty? She has a devil of a temper,” his brother said, shaking his head. Then as an afterthought, as if remembering he was in the presence of two ministers, he muttered, “Sorry. Forgive my language.”

Paul rolled his eyes. The baron’s use of the word devil hadn’t bothered him one bit. On more than one occasion he’d said the same and had actually gone so far as to compare Liberty to the devil. Although, that had always been in his head, he’d never had the nerve to voice it aloud, especially in her father’s presence.

“I see you apologize for your language, but not for calling my daughter a devil,” John said smartly.

“Tell me, John, can anyone in this room deny it?” his brother countered. When nobody spoke, he said, “I see I’ve made my point.”

“That’s not true,” Paul said at last, eliciting four curious stares with his statement. “I’ve noticed that she hasn’t been quite the same foul-tempered creature in the past few weeks that she was before.”