Page 66 of His Awful Grace

“Well.” Amelia stared at him for a second, then turned to the shelves.

Mark was grateful she’d turned her back to him, because he couldn’t bear her gaze.

“I know what she needs.” Amelia raised on her tiptoes and shuffled through canisters with names like pennyroyal, chamomile, dandelion, St. John’s wort, and yarrow. “She’ll need to drink it once every morning for best outcomes. Honestly, Istrongly recommend she get fitted for a cervical cap, it’s a far more reliable method of birth control.”

Mark choked. “Cervical cap? That sounds…painful.”

Amelia hummed as she opened a canister and sifted it with a scoop. “Mmmm, uncomfortable, yes, but if the physician is competent it shouldn’t be painful. The hardest part will be finding a doctor willing. You might have to attend the appointment or send her with a letter with your signature stating you’re her husband and you’ll allow it. She should still brace herself for condescension and judgment, though.”

“But she has a perfectly good reason to—!” Mark broke off, sighing. “No, I won’t put her through that. I’ll purchase some vulcanized sheaths instead.”

Amelia turned, cocking her head. “Oh, so I can put this back.”

Mark blushed, studying the wooden countertop. “She needs it now.”

Amelia paused, holding an open canister in one hand and a small scoop in the other. “I think I need to know exactly what’s happened.”

Mark gulped. “Exactly?”

“To make sure I’m dosing the right herbs.” Amelia faced him, setting everything down on the counter between them.

“Well,” Mark started, tugging on his scarf.You can do this. It’s for Ellen. Just think of Ellen.His face flamed. “We, uh, had marital relations three times last night. She climaxed all three times, and uh”—he gathered his courage to continue—“the first time she was sitting upright on my?—”

Amelia waved her hands frantically. “No, no! Not that much detail! I didn’t need all that!”

Mark wanted to die. He wanted to shrivel into a husk and let the wind blow him away. It took everything in him not to bolt for the door. “Can—can you help?”

Amelia, her own cheeks pink, found a paper bag from below and spooned some herbs into it. “This is what she needs. She’llneed to take three cups a day for three days, one teaspoon a cup. Be absolutely precise in these measurements, it is physically dangerous otherwise.”

Mark let out a sigh of relief. “I’ll tell her.”

She gave him a shrewd look. “If this is to be a continued activity, I highly recommend sponges, caps, or sheaths.”

Mark couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t speak. He nodded instead. He grabbed the bag and raced for the door. “She probably won’t be in today. She’s very upset.”

Amelia gave him a sad smile. “That doesn’t surprise me. But don’t worry about me! I’ll call in a favor from a nurse friend. She works at St. Pancras workhouse and is used to chaos.”

Mark hurried out with bag in hand, never happier for the cold air. He hoped he never saw Amelia again for as long as he lived. He returned thirty minutes later to find Ellen dressed and calm, sitting in the parlor with his daily newspaper in her hands.

He paused in the doorway, unable to reconcile this sight with the frantic woman in bed an hour earlier.

She looked up at his footsteps. “Do you have it?” Desperation filled her eyes.

He nodded stiffly and walked to her. As he handed her the bag, he felt all his hopes of fulfilling his duty disintegrate. “One teaspoon a cup, three cups a day for three days.” Mark stepped backward to grab the bellpull. The maid must’ve been outside the door, for she answered immediately. Mark requested tea, and she bobbed a curtsy and left.

Exhausted, Mark dropped onto the settee opposite Ellen. He felt gutted. He didn’t know what to say or how to recapture the tenderness and affection between them the night before. Was it completely gone? Would she never wish to be intimate with him again?

Ellen echoed his sigh and finally looked up at him. “When I said this was a mistake, I didn’t meanyouwere a mistake. I meant that sex without a contraceptive in place was a mistake.”

The vise around his heart eased a fraction. “Why do you refuse to ever carry a child again?” he asked gently.

The tea tray arrived, saving Ellen from a reply. She thanked the maid, prepared her tea, then poured a spoonful of dried and ground herbs into the dainty cup. She took a sip, grimaced, and forced down another sip.

“I can carry a child without difficulty.” She watched the herbs floating in her tea. “Hence contraception. It’s the end that’s the problem.”

“What happened?” Mark asked gently.

“I started itching.”