Once Upon a Tower

Page 50

“I will,” Edie gasped, struggling to take a deep breath.
“Tell me the worst,” Layla said, giving her another squeeze. Her voice dropped. “Did he turn out to have some sort of perversion? Does he tie you to the bed or something of that nature . . . even worse? I will take you away directly and you will never see him again. Your father will have the marriage annulled before the duke realizes you’re out the door.”
“It’s consum-consummated,” Edie said, getting herself under control. “And I don’t want to annul my marriage.”
“Of course, there are some perversions that I’d quite like to try myself,” Layla said encouragingly. “Why should we be so rigid, after all? If two people wish to indulge themselves, and are in perfect agreement, why not? I’ve never tried to talk your father—”
“Gowan isn’t perverted!”
“Oh, so it’s a more mundane problem?” Layla looked quite relieved. “Let me guess. He’s a five-second-miracle. I should have brought a potion or two with me. Those big, burly men, they’re the—”
“It’s the opposite,” Edie interrupted, hiccupping.
“The opposite?” Layla frowned. “Please tell me you’re not complaining about a situation that most women merely dream about.”
“There’s something wrong with me,” Edie cried, her darkest fears tumbling out. “It hurts so much.”
“That probably just means that your husband is well-endowed. Let’s see . . . would you compare him to a carrot, a marrow, or a courgette? I do hope we’re not talking about a string bean.”
“But—but you told me pain was an old wives’ tale.” A last hiccup escaped. “I hate it. I just hate it. I feel so stupid and—and I’m such a failure at the whole business.”
Layla gave her knee a pat. “Darling, I couldn’t possibly have revealed that there was the risk you might feel as if you’d been skewered like an unlucky matador.”
“It would have helped!” Edie cried. “All this time I was afraid that something was wrong with me.”
“There is something wrong with you. You’re a chucklehead. What’s all this about failure? There’s no failure about it. After her wedding night, my cousin Marge locked the door to her bedchamber and wouldn’t let her husband back in for a solid month. And even then, she didn’t enjoy it.”
“I’ve met your cousin and her husband,” Edie observed. “There might be more than one reason for her lack of pleasure.”
“So true. The man has lips like a sturgeon. It’s most repellent. Do you think the windows open in this carriage?”
“No, and you mustn’t smoke in here. The smell would never come out of the velvet.”
“A bit overdone, don’t you agree?” Layla said, poking at the seat. “Not that I have anything against copper-colored velvet. I think this would make a wonderful pelisse. But just think if you spilled some wine!”
“Gowan doesn’t drink wine in the carriage,” Edie said, feeling even more despondent. “He works all the time.”
“Works? Works at what?” Layla had taken a small implement from her reticule and was prying at the window.
“What are you doing?”
“Fresh air is good for your skin,” Layla said over her shoulder. “The perfume of Scottish wildflowers and the deep forest. You don’t want to have spots, do you? You’re already all blotchy from that virginal wailing.”
“I’m not a virgin anymore,” Edie protested, feeling better just for having told someone. “Do you think the pain will go away?”
“No question. If it didn’t, the human race would have dwindled out long ago. I’ve never heard of anyone having a problem that lasted more than a few weeks. And believe me, married women discuss this sort of thing for hours on end.”
The window popped free and sailed away behind the coach. “I didn’t even hear a crash, did you?” Layla asked.
A pungent smell of manure blew in the window. “The odor of these Scottish wildflowers is astonishing,” Edie said, wrapping her pelisse around her and watching as Layla opened a tinderbox to light her cheroot.
“Ah, that’s better,” Layla said, a second later. “A nice glass of champagne would be marvelous, but it is before noon. One must maintain one’s standards. So, darling, how terrible is it?”
Edie shuddered.
“Dear me, that is bad. Throw me one of those extra cushions; we might as well make ourselves comfortable.”
The carriage’s seats were so padded that the seat felt as soft as a bed. Edie propped herself in one corner, stretched her legs out on the seat, and crossed her ankles. It felt rather naughty to put her slippers on all that plush velvet.
Her stepmother did the same on the seat opposite. “So you’re in positive agony, but it’s getting better. Here’s the most important question: Are you berating Gowan nightly, thereby making him understand just how lucky he is that you even allow him near your delicate lady parts?”
“No.” The word dropped into the carriage with all the desolation Edie felt.
“Darling, you really must cheer up. It’s hardly the end of the world, and you are not the first young couple to find yourself initially incompatible.” Layla pushed herself up a bit and blew some smoke in the general direction of the broken window. “Why on earth aren’t you scolding your husband for his—ahem—magnificent proportions? You might as well get a diamond or two out of all that misery.”
“It was all so horribly embarrassing. I thought it would go away.”
“Don’t tell me he doesn’t have any idea.” Layla sat even further up. “Is that what you meant in your note, about my ‘secret’? That’s not what the secret is for!”
Edie sighed. She hadn’t even used the secret correctly.
“It’s meant to give you some relief, not him. If he’s hammering away at you and it hurts, you should be yowling like a cat on All Hallows’ Eve, not befuddling him by making him think that you’re enjoying it. You’re doing it all wrong, Edie.”
“I think he may have guessed, but is just too polite to say so.”
“Men are never polite in the bedroom.” Layla made a sweeping gesture that sprinkled ashes all over the upholstery. “It is you who are being too polite. So let’s tot it all up. It doesn’t hurt as much as it did. Are the two of you making a regular go of it?”
Edie shook her head. “Not since my courses began ten days ago.”
“So what? Oh, don’t answer that. You look as horrified as when you were young and I told you about how babies are made.”
“You told me they came from eating suet pudding with treacle!”
“Well, I couldn’t tell you the truth, could I? Even in the earliest days of my marriage, I had already grasped that your father was on the sober side. You wanted to know and I had to tell you something he wouldn’t mind. Suet pudding is very fattening. I was giving you a helpful tip about adult life.”
“It doesn’t matter,” Edie said, staring at the toes of her slippers. “I’ve made a mess of my marriage. I don’t want to spend the rest of my life gasping out faux moans. I simply can’t. I’m not even any good at it. I wouldn’t believe myself.”