The Other Side - J. D. Robb [41]
Now that they were facing their first public outing, she prayed. Help us, Lord. A simple prayer she repeated three times with her eyes closed, her hands folded, and all her concentration centered on those three words.
For her part, she felt well prepared for her role as the Earl of Fellsborough. She wished she was as sure of Harry’s acting ability.
This moment was like so much of the last four days. A mix of anxiety and anticipation with a healthy dose of frustration to guarantee that neither of them grew overconfident.
The most significant moment, definitely not fun, had come when nothing happened as midnight approached, twenty-four hours after their wish on the coin.
Bettina had cried. Harry had thumped her on the back, which had not been at all comforting, and told her, “Stop that whining. You make me look like a weakling.”
“Harry, if I remember correctly, I wished you to be in my shoes. I did not think to say for how long. Cameron knows something is wrong, and he is only six months old!”
“We each hold him differently, that is all. Since neither of us holds anyone else, that will not give us away.”
Harry was angry all the time. He had dismissed one of the footmen for no good reason and sent word to Cook that dinner was a disappointment. Finally Bettina had confronted him. “If you keep on like this, we will lose every servant in the house.”
“They are all too sensitive,” Harry insisted as they practiced dancing.
“Stop criticizing them!”
They separated, and Bettina had to concentrate to recall the man’s steps for even the simplest of reels.
When they came together for a promenade down the imaginary line of couples, she went on, “By the way, I hired Kennet back. He is supporting his aging mother and cannot afford to be without a position. As for Cook, the housekeeper managed to convince her that ‘The countess is still not herself.’ She explained that Cameron’s birth has left me short-tempered and indisposed. Thank you for that, Harry.”
“Bettina, sarcasm is not attractive,” he said with narrowed eyes. “I am doing the best I can. You have done me no favors. Your refusal to go to Parliament until ‘you feel more sure of yourself’ has raised concern for my health, not to mention making me appear less than reliable. I have a proposal of my own and no expectation of when I can present it or if I will have the support I need.”
Aha, she thought, that is why Harry is so irritated by almost everything the servants say or do. Lack of control was the crux of his peevishness.
That was what unnerved him, Bettina thought. And, she admitted, it might well be what appealed to her. The chance to be in charge, rather like being king for a day, or maybe a week. If she knew how long it would last, it could prove a very interesting experience.
Like her, Harry refused to consider that this curse would last forever, but neither of them could think of a way to undo the wish, especially if they could not find the coin.
The coin was definitely not in her bedchamber. The servants had searched. It seemed to her that its disappearance was as magical as the magic it created.
Cameron’s nurse had suggested that they stop searching for it. “If you stop tearing the house apart,” Martha said, “I am sure it will turn up. At least that has always been my experience with lost things.”
If she had not at that moment succeeded in quieting a wailing Cameron, Bettina was sure that Harry would have dismissed her for voicing an unsolicited opinion. Martha seemed to sense her error, though, and had kept her thoughts to herself ever since.
In the end they had abandoned the search for the coin, not because they thought that would make it turn up again, but because they had to prepare in case it did not.
She and Harry had begun to work at understanding how the other passed the day, up to and including the things that each should know about the other’s friends and Harry’s political colleagues, not all of whom would count as friends. When Harry balked she had insisted. “I need to know as much as I can if I am