Читать книгу Regency Society - Хелен Диксон, Ann Lethbridge, Хелен Диксон - Страница 76

At a tap on his shoulder, Adrian lifted his chin to make it easier for the valet to shave him for the second time that day. He did not like the feelings of helplessness that the process of dressing raised in him. They were ridiculous, of course. He had stood for it his entire life. And it was done just the same as it had been, when his eyes had been good. But now that he could not see to do it himself, he sometimes had the childish urge to slap the helping hands away.

He focused on the letter in his hand to calm his nerves. When the mysterious woman in the tavern had refused him, it was because of what she could see, and not what he could. She had thought him slovenly and commented on his drunkenness. It had made him regret the numbing effects of gin for the first time in ages. She was right, of course. If he valued her company, he would need a clear head to appreciate it, just as she wished for a lucid partner.

To show his respect on their second meeting, he must be immaculate. It was not a condition he was likely to achieve by himself, and he should be grateful for what his servant could do. He rubbed a hand along his own finished jaw. Perfectly smooth. He stood to accept the shirt, the cravat and the coat, and the final brushing of hair and garments, before his man announced him finished.

Then he walked the three paces to the doorway, stopped and turned back, setting the letter aside and picking up the miniature of Emily to drop it in its usual place in his coat pocket. It would serve as a reminder, should the attractiveness of his companion make him forget where his true heart and duty were promised. Tonight would be an enjoyable evening. But nothing more than that.

He travelled out of his room, took the ten paces through the sitting room, through the front door, and down the four steps to the street.

He could hear the carriage waiting in front of him, smell leather and horses, and see the dim shape of it, clearer at the edges, but fading to impenetrable blackness at the centre. The touches of vision that still remained were almost more maddening than nothing would be, for it gave the futile hope that the picture might suddenly clear if he blinked, or that a slight turn of the head and shift of the eyes would make it easier to see what lay in the fringes.

He calmed himself. It was only when he did not chase clarity that he could use what sight he had. A groom stepped forwards to help him, and this time he shook off the assistance, feeling along the open door in front of him to find the strap, searching with his toe for the step that had been placed, and then up and into the seat. The man closed the door and signalled to the driver, and they were off.

To pass the time he counted turns, imagining the map of the city. Not too far from his own home. This would put him in Piccadilly. And then, past. They travelled for a short time more, and then the carriage stopped, the door opened, and he could hear the step being put down for him again. The same groom that had been ready to help him up offered no hand this time, but murmured, ‘A little to your left, my lord. Very good’, allowing him to navigate on his own. When he had gained the street, the man said, ‘The door you want is straight in front of you. Two scant paces. Then five stairs with a railing on your right. The knocker is a ring, set in a lion’s mouth.’

‘Thank you.’ He must remember to compliment his hostess on the astuteness of her servants. With a few simple actions, this man had relieved the trepidation Adrian often felt in strange surroundings. Following the directions, he made his way to the door and knocked upon it.

It appeared the footman was prepared as well, describing the passage as they walked down it, opening the door to the sitting room and informing him of the locations of the furniture so that he did not have to fumble his way to the couch. He could feel the fire in front of him, but before he sat down he paused. The air smelled of lemons. Did her scent linger in the room? No. He could hear her breathing, if he listened for it. He turned in the direction of the sound. ‘Did you mean to trick me into rudeness? You are standing in the corner, aren’t you?’

She gave a small laugh and he enjoyed the prettiness of the sound. ‘I did not think it necessary to have a butler announce you. We are meeting in secret, are we not?’

He walked towards her, praying that the confidence of the movement would not be spoiled by unseen furniture. ‘If you wish it.’

‘I think I would prefer it that way, Adrian.’

He started, and then laughed at his own foolishness. ‘I gave you my first name last night, didn’t I? And got nothing in return for it, as I remember. Perhaps a full introduction on my part will encourage you to reveal more.’

‘That is not necessary, Lord Folbroke,’ she said. ‘Even without your telling me, I recognised you last night. And you would recognise me, should you still have your sight.’

‘Would I, now?’ He paused to rack his brains, trying to place the sound of that voice with a name, or at least a face. But when none appeared, he shrugged apologetically. ‘I am embarrassed to admit that I do not know you, even now. And I hope you do not mean to punish me by keeping the secret.’

‘I am afraid I must. Should I give you any clue to my identity, you would know me immediately. And this evening will end quite differently than I wish it to.’

‘And how do you wish it to end?’ he coaxed.

‘In my bed.’

‘Really?’ He had not expected her to be so very blunt about a thing that they both knew to be true. ‘And if you were to tell me your name?’

‘Then it would be a significant stumbling block to that. It might give you reason to be angry with me, or to discover a distaste or a hesitance that you do not have now. It would change everything.’

So she was likely the wife of some friend of his. And she thought him honourable enough not to cuckold a chum. ‘Perhaps that is true.’ Or perhaps it wasn’t. His character did not bear close scrutiny at this time.

She sighed. ‘I would much prefer to have you think me a stranger, and to kiss me as you did last night, as though you had no thought for anything but the moment, and for me. As though you enjoyed it.’

‘I did enjoy it,’ he said. ‘And apparently so did you if you are willing to go to such great lengths to do it again.’

‘It was very nice,’ she said politely. ‘And unlike anything I have previously experienced.’

Should he discover that she was the wife of an old friend, he might be unwilling to continue. But he would have to hunt the man down and give him a lecture on the care and tending of his lady. Considering the state of his own marriage, the idea that he would give advice to anyone was laughable.

‘It pains me to hear you say such. There was nothing so unusual in the way I kissed you. You have been sorely neglected. And I would be honoured to rectify such a grievous error, if you will allow me to. Lips as sweet as yours are made to be kissed hard and often.’

She gave a loud sigh that ended in a little squeak of annoyance, as though she had thought herself too sensible to be swayed by his words. ‘Not quite yet, I think. We should eat. Dinner has been laid for us in the next room and I would not wish it to get cold.’

‘Allow me.’ He took her hand in the crook of his arm, wondering what he was meant to do next. Pride was all well and good, but what did it save him, if he did not know where to lead her?

She sensed his dilemma. ‘The door is in front of you. And a little to the right.’

‘Thank you.’ He walked forwards, and she let him guide her. He half wished that they’d cross the threshold and find themselves in a bedroom. Then he could rid himself of the tension that was building in him. But, no. He could smell a meal somewhere nearby. She showed no hesitation, so he walked forwards into the blur in front of him, putting his hand out nonchalantly to feel for the table that he was sure must lay before them.

There it was. His fingers touched the corner and a linen cloth. He led her to what he hoped was an acceptable chair and worked his way to the other side, finding his seat and taking it and running his hand over the plate in front of him to familiarise himself with the setting.

Now the tension in him was of an entirely different sort. Suppose he spilled his wine, or dropped the meat into his lap without noticing? Suppose, dear God, she served him soup? If he made a fool of himself, he might never have the chance to know her better.

Adrian listened for the approach of the servant, and sniffed the food he was served. Was it fish? Or perhaps lamb. There was rosemary there, he was sure. And fresh peas, for there was the smell of mint. Problematic, for they would roll across the plate, if he was not careful. Better to flatten them with the fork than to chase them about the plate.

There was a faint laugh from the other side of the table, and his head snapped up. ‘What is it?’

‘You are glaring at your plate as though it is an enemy. And you seem to have forgotten me entirely. I am trying to decide whether to be amused or insulted by it.’

‘I apologise. It is just that, meals can be a difficult time for me.’

‘Do you require assistance?’

‘That will not be necessary.’ It humiliated him to display his weakness so clearly, and he longed to end the game they were playing and lie with her. Once their bodies touched, she could see how little this mattered.

But she had ignored him, for he could hear her drawing her chair closer to his. ‘I said I did not need your help.’ His tone was sharper than he had intended.

But it did not seem to bother her, for her response was placid enough. ‘That is a pity. For it might be quite pleasant for both of us.’

He started as she touched his mouth with her finger, resting the tip on the centre of his lower lip, almost as though it were a kiss.

He touched his tongue to it and tasted wine. She had dipped her finger into the glass.

He reached out, very carefully, to his own glass, dipping a finger in the contents, and then following the sound of her voice to try to touch her lip.

She laughed again, catching his hand and bringing it the last few inches to her mouth to kiss it clean. At the touch of her tongue, his own mouth went so dry he could hardly speak.

‘You see?’ she whispered. ‘It might not be so bad to accept my help.’

‘But I would not want to grow used to being hand fed, no matter how attractive the hands might be.’

She laughed. ‘My hands might be ugly for all you know. And my face as well.’

He pulled his hand away from her lips, clasping her fingers in his. Then he turned it over, stroking the fingers, rubbing his thumb along the palm, over the back, circling the wrist. The fingers were long, the nails short, the skin soft. He held it to his cheek. ‘The hand is lovely, as is the woman. You will never convince me otherwise.’

She sighed in response and he could feel her lean towards him as the pressure of her hand increased. ‘You flatter, sir. But you do it well.’

‘And you tempt. I am utterly captivated.’ Which was not so much flattery as truth. He was hard for her, and they had not even begun to eat. But while he could not change his body’s reaction, control of the evening was returning to him, and with it, he relaxed and focused on his ultimate goal. ‘Before we go further, am I to be your only company tonight?’

‘Of course.’ She seemed surprised that he would ask. Surely that was a good sign.

‘Then I take it that you still have not found your husband? Or have you found him, and are punishing him for leading you into last night’s danger?’

She gave a little hiss of surprise and snatched her hand away. ‘I did not betray my husband. It was he who left me. I have not seen him in some time. And I suspect he would make sport of my search for him, just as you do.’

‘I am sorry. I did not mean to remind you of unhappiness. I only wished to ascertain that we would be alone for the whole evening.’ To cover the awkward moment, he went back to his meal. As unobtrusively as possible, he touched the food on his plate to learn its location, then wiped his fingers on the napkin and reached for a knife to cut the chop he had found. He could hear the scrape of her cutlery as she began to eat as well.

Then she spoke. ‘We need have no fear of interruption. This is not actually my home. It was let so that I might entertain in private. And tonight I am expecting no one else.’

So she had ample funds, and took scrupulous care of her reputation. He could not help trying to guess her identity from the clues she was giving him. ‘Have you brought many admirers here?’

‘There have been no others. Only you.’

His pulse quickened.

‘Do not think that I have not had offers,’ she added, as though she did not wish him to think her unworthy of masculine attention. ‘But they know that I am married. And that I will not allow them to do the things they hint at when they are alone with me.’

‘And yet you invited me here?’ He smiled at her. ‘I am truly flattered. What is the reason for my good fortune?’

‘You are different.’

The way she said that word felt wonderful and strange, as though she thought it a good thing to be unlike one’s fellows. Perhaps it was, if it attracted such a woman to him. ‘I spend much of my time wishing I were not. But you seem to deem it an advantage.’

‘I am not talking about your sight.’

‘What then?’

‘You are more handsome than the others, for one thing. And more brave.’ Her voice still had the solid, matter-of-fact quality of the previous evening, but he could almost feel the warmth of her blush on his own skin.

‘And what would make you think that?’

‘The way you protected me last night. I doubt that the men who normally seek me out would have the courage to do that with two good eyes. But you did not think twice.’

‘Which proves me a foolish drunkard, more than a hero.’

‘I think it may be possible to be both.’

And he felt the little puff of pride, along with the desire coursing in his blood. ‘And you wish to reward me for my gallantry with dinner?’

‘I told you before that it was more than that. I invited you here because you seemed to desire me. But I was not sure, when you were sober, that you would wish to come. I thought it would be better, should I be wrong, to enjoy a nice meal, than to sit alone, en deshabille, waiting for a man who did not want me.’ The need in her voice was evident, though she’d tried to disguise it with a light tone. Without thinking, Adrian reached out for her, almost knocking over his water goblet in the process. She steadied it effortlessly, meeting his hand with hers on the stem of the glass.

‘I think I have had quite enough to eat,’ he said, guiding the glass to his lips for a sip of water before kissing the fingers that rested beside his on the goblet. ‘If I had known that you were dressed to seduce me when I entered, I doubt we would have made it as far as the table.’ He put down the glass again and stood. Then he took a step closer to her, listening to see if she moved away.

There was a faint hitch in her breathing as she rose. ‘I had not expected it to be so easy to trap you. Should I take it as a compliment? Or is it that you are none too particular about your conquests?’

Was that bitterness he heard? ‘Are you angry with me for coming when summoned?’

‘Perhaps I am angry at myself for doing the summoning.’ There was another pause. ‘Or perhaps, now that the moment grows close, I cannot maintain a facade of sophistication. While I might wish to pretend otherwise, to be with you like this frightens me.’

There was that hint of vulnerability in her voice again, and it drew him to her in a way that was very different than the simple lust of the night before. He closed the distance between them and put his arms around her body, feeling her stiffen, and then relax. ‘Do not feel the need to play the coquette to hold my interest. Or to continue with the act, should you change your mind. I wish to know you just as you are.

And I wish to give you pleasure.’ And for a moment, he took comfort at how good it felt to have something to offer her, and to know that the night might be about more than his needs.

‘Of course,’ she said. ‘The bedchamber is on the other side of the sitting room. If you wish to retire there, I do not mind …’ Her body tensed again.

‘There is no need to rush,’ he assured her, stroking her shoulder. ‘You were quite right to think that I desired you. I have been on tenterhooks the whole day, fearing that I misunderstood your offer. And if I seemed to rush through my meal, it was not because I wanted to be elsewhere. I worried that I would do something laughable, or give you a distaste of me.’

‘By dining with me?’ she said. ‘What a strange notion. I would never find you laughable, unless you sought to amuse me. And I’m sure that when you upset me, it will have little to do with your table manners.’

‘When I upset you? You seem most sure of the fact, madam.’

‘Of course. You will have your way with me—and then be off. That is your intention, is it not?’

And what could he say to that? For that had been his intention exactly.

‘But I am hoping that, after all of your bragging last night, that the experience is sufficient to assuage some of the pain of your departure.’

What had her bastard of a husband done to her that she was so eager to be used, and yet so convinced that she could not hold his interest for more than a night? It put him in mind to prove her wrong. ‘But suppose that was not my intention at all?’

She seemed to shrink, as though she wished to evaporate, even as he held her close. Then she said softly, with none of the confidence he’d grown used to, ‘Have I done something wrong?’

‘On the contrary. You are more right than I ever imagined. Why do you ask?’

‘If you do not want me …’

‘Of course I want you, my darling. But things have more flavour if we take the time to savour them. Is there a couch by the fire where we might take our wine and sit for a time?’ He could feel her taking a breath, ready to object. So he reached carefully and found the tip of her nose with his finger. ‘Do not worry. When the time is right, I mean to take you to bed.’ From there, he touched her chin with the same finger, guiding himself to her face until her lips met his. The briefest kiss was a taste of heaven, just as it had been the previous night. ‘As a matter of fact, I doubt I will be able to help myself.’

He kissed her again, slowly. Her mouth tasted of wine. He ran his knuckles over the curve of her shoulder, and felt the smooth fabric of her clothing. ‘What are you wearing? I think it is a dark colour. And it feels like silk. But beyond that …’

‘It is but a robe. Blue silk.’

‘Describe the colour. Is it like the sea? A robin’s egg?’

She thought for a moment. ‘I think it could be called sapphire.’

‘And what do you wear under it?’

He heard her swallow nervously. ‘My nightdress.’

Adrian wrapped his arms more tightly about her, stroking her body lightly, so as to satisfy his curiosity without arousing her. He felt no stays or petticoats. And he damned his eyes for their betrayal. He would not have been able to take food had he known that on the other side of the table there had been only a few layers of fabric between him and the softness of this woman’s body.

She was straining on tiptoe to match his height, kissing his ear with little licks of her tongue. He could feel each touch of it to the soles of his feet. ‘Let us sit,’ he whispered again. ‘Show me where to go.’

She slipped out of his arms and took him by the hand to lead him into the fog of the room, through a doorway, towards the glow of a fire. She sat him down on the grey blob before it, which turned out to be some kind of sofa, and he pushed her gently back against the arm of it. ‘Before I kiss you again, I would like to touch you.’ He wondered if it sounded strange to her. But there was so much he still did not know about her. It would not have mattered what she looked like if his intent had been to leave before the dawn. But with this woman? Somehow everything was different.

He could feel the hesitation as she tried to decipher the request. And then she said, ‘Where?’

He laughed. ‘Everywhere. But let us begin at the beginning, shall we?’ He reached out a tentative finger to touch her hair.

Curls, just as Hendricks had said. Although he’d thought he enjoyed long hair on a woman, the texture was interesting. He could feel the carefully styled ringlets at the side, the pins that held them in place, and the way they revealed the smoothness of her neck. He dipped his head close and found the place at its base where scent had been dabbed, inhaling deeply and touching the point with his tongue.

She gave a little jump of surprise.

He ran his fingers along the place his lips had touched, finding the tendons, the hollows, feeling movement as she swallowed. It was a lovely, long neck and he wondered if the complexion was pale or a dusky gold.

Her chin was well shaped, with a firmness that hinted at stubbornness. She’d proven that already, so it was no real surprise. And there was her mouth. He smiled, remembering the taste of it. High cheekbones, a dimple, a raised brow. He smoothed it, feeling the tiny wrinkle of confusion on the forehead and the beat of a pulse in her temple. Her eyes were closed. He brushed them with his thumb, feeling the long lashes lying upon her cheeks. When they were open, he was sure that the look in those eyes would be probing, discerning, intelligent. But she would look like a child when she slept, gentled and at peace.

‘Did you discover what you wished to know?’ He heard another faint twinge of doubt in her voice, as though she feared that she had been found wanting on close inspection.

‘You are beautiful. Just as I knew you would be.’

He could feel the heat in her cheeks, the little puff of exhaled breath, and the way her body relaxed beside his, knowing he approved of her.

Then he cupped his hand at the back of her neck, and brought her lips to his to take them as they opened to speak. Her tongue touched his eagerly, and she put her hands on his shoulders, holding him in place as though she suspected, at any moment, that he would regain his senses and reject her.

He took her mouth with deep greedy strokes of his tongue, letting his hands roam lightly over her body, feeling the heat of her through the fabric. Then he found the tie of her robe and reached beneath it, tugging her nightdress upwards until he caught the hem, pulling it until it rested even with her nipples and left her lower body sheathed in nothing but smooth blue silk. He stroked her side through the robe, moving the fabric against her until she gasped with pleasure and fought to free herself from her clothing.

He laughed, rubbing the rougher cloth of the dress against her nipples, dipping his mouth to the bare undersides of the exposed slopes beneath it, kissing the peachskin softness of them, licking up to the place where they puckered with excitement.

Her struggling ceased and she went still, waiting for the moment when he would uncover her. When he did not move, she arched her back and moaned, and he pulled the fabric aside suddenly and feasted upon her, drawing them in turn into his mouth, sucking hard, squeezing them with his hand.

‘Adrian.’ Her voice was tortured, desperate. ‘Adrian, finish quickly.’

‘I am just beginning, my love.’

‘But I fear … I think I am ill … I feel so strange …’ The words came out in a series of gasps.

And he wondered—could it be that a married woman might still be a virgin to her own pleasure? He released her breasts, slowing his attack to let her calm. ‘You will be fine, darling. But you must trust me to know what is best for you. Now help me remove your gown.’ He kissed her on the mouth again as he reached to untie the belt. She struggled out of the sleeves, and between them they pushed the cotton nightrail over her head and to the floor.

‘Now lie back upon the silk. Relax. There is a place on your body as wondrous as the pearl in an oyster. And I mean to touch you there until you submit to me.’ He sank his fingers into the warmth between her legs, deeper between the folds of her to find the spot that he knew would drive her mad. With his other hand, he found the belt of the robe and its silk tasseled ends, drawing one up her belly to dangle it back and forth over her breasts.

She was sobbing now, shaking as though she would fight against the release. So he slowed his hand, resting the pad of his thumb against her as he let his fingers sink deep inside her. She was hot, tight and wet, and he would go there himself soon. And as he stroked he felt an answering throb in his loins to match the one against his hand as her body gave up the last of her control to him.

‘Adrian,’ she cried louder than his pounding heartbeat, ‘I am yours.’ He could feel her, collapsed on her back before him, legs spread wide around his hand, ready to be taken.

He had thought to take her to bed, to carry her if he could. But it was quite impossible, for he could not stand to wait. He curled his fingers inside her and made her shudder again as he fumbled with the buttons on his trousers, and then in his pocket for the sheath he carried.

She froze, and then he felt her scrambling, crablike, away from his touch. ‘What is that?’

He reached for her again. ‘I do not expect you have ever seen such a thing. It is called a French letter.’

‘And what is its intended purpose?’ she asked.

He wanted to groan to her that there was no time for questions, and to put the thing on and ram himself home. But he struggled through the roar of desire in his head to be patient for the sake of her innocence.

‘One might call it a preventative. It can be worn by the man during the physical act of love.’

‘And just what do you seek to prevent?’ she said, distant and cold.

He gritted his teeth to keep his temper and lust in check. ‘Several things. Disease, for example.’

‘You think I have an illness?’ She struggled off the sofa and he heard a wine glass clink against the side table before tumbling to the carpet.

‘Of course not. You are a lady, and have limited experience with such things. But by my recent behaviour, I can hardly be called a gentleman. And it is better, if one cannot see, to be more careful than usual, when one decides to …’ He let the sentence hang open.

‘I found you yesterday, dead drunk in a gin mill, brawling with navvies. And now you wish me to believe that you care so much for your own health, and the health of your women, that you would bother with such a thing?’ The innocence was gone now, replaced by the tart, demanding tone that he had heard yesterday.

‘Better a quick death in a fight than a slow death of the pox.’ He patted his knee, inviting her back on to his lap.

‘Get out,’ she muttered, stepping even farther away.

‘Does it really bother you so?’ He stuffed the thing back in his pocket, wondering if it were possible to make her forget it again.

‘Perhaps it bothers me to think of you consorting with who knows whom. And then coming to me, treating me as a nothing, just as you have always done. Leave me immediately,’ she said more loudly.

‘Darling …’ he gave a diminishing laugh, as though it would be so easy to reduce the pain of what she was doing to him by her delay ‘… it is for the best, really. You are married, and so am I. We do not wish to risk an accident of another sort. Suppose you were to get with child?’

‘Of course we would not want that.’ Her voice was well on the way to being shrewish now. ‘Why would anyone wish to get a child on me? It is good that you cannot see, I am sure, for you would find me so repellent that you would run from me, after only a few days.’

‘That is not it at all,’ he muttered, his desire for her dying in annoyance with her foolish need for reassurance. ‘I am sure that you are most beautiful, as I have already said.’

‘Liar,’ she said, and the word ended in a sob. ‘Liar. Get out. Go away. Do not touch me.’ She pulled the silk robe around her body with a swish to make sure that he heard.

‘You were quite willing enough to have me touch you a few minutes ago. I do not understand your sudden change of heart.’

‘Well, I understand quite enough for both of us. You refuse to lie with me in a normal manner. And so I refuse to lie with you at all.’ She stomped her foot hard enough for him to feel the vibrations of the floor through his boot soles. ‘Get out.’

He stood, doing up his buttons, wanting to storm out the door and to the street, to take the first carriage he could find far away from this place, so that he would never have to see her again.

And then he barked his shin on the little table beside the couch, and remembered that he could not see her at all. Nor could he remember the way to the door. He was wilting with shame now, red faced, limp and weak and helpless in the presence of a woman he desired. ‘I am sorry. But I will not … I cannot …’

‘Of course you could. If you thought, even for a moment, about what damage you have done to those who care for you.’

‘No. It is not that at all.’ What she was saying made no sense, and had nothing to do with the confusion he was suffering. ‘Believe me, at this moment, I want nothing more than to leave this place and forget this evening as soon as I am able.’

Then he held his hand out in resignation. ‘But I will need someone to give me my stick and find my coat and hat, for I cannot. Then you will need to call a servant to lead me to a carriage, unless you mean to turn me helpless into the street. Or maybe you wish to laugh at my struggles.’ A thought occurred to him. ‘Perhaps that was your game all along. Does it amuse you to see me in such a state over you, and then reject me, knowing how easy it will be to escape?’

‘Of course,’ she bit back. ‘Because everything that happens is about you and your pride and what people will think. For a few moments tonight, I was foolish enough to think that you were not the most selfish man in the world.’ She pushed him on the shoulder to spin his body a quarter-turn. ‘The door is in front of you. Straight forwards. Go.’

She did not say another word to him, but walked at his side until he was in the entrance hall. Was she ashamed at her outburst, or as disgusted by his weakness as he was? In either case, he knew she did not want him enough to relent, for she went to the bell to ring for aid.

As they waited in silence for a servant to come and lead him out, he felt carefully over buttons, arranging his clothes as best he could, double and triple checking to be sure he had not done up his trousers crooked, so that it was not obvious to all that he had left in haste from an assignation. When he was sure he would not shame himself further, he said, ‘And now you know why I am so careful not to spread my seed. This curse that has rendered me helpless came to me because my father, and his before him, had no compunctions about breeding. I have no intention of making the same mistake, leaving my son a useless joke of a man. It is the reason I fled my own marriage. And it is why I will not join unhindered with you. I am sorry if that displeases you, but it is a fact of life, and cannot be changed. Good evening to you, madam.’