Taming the Shrew by Cari Hislop

this creepy house; I want to go home.”
    “As you wish; I was hoping you’d come shopping with me.”
    “Shopping?”
    “I’m going to buy you some presents, but if you’d rather go home...”
    “I hate my house; it’s boring and it stinks of laudanum.”
    “You could come with me...”
    “Do we have to ride in the devil’s stinking carriage?”
    “Kissing you will be more pleasurable on a comfortable seat.”
    “Everyone will see.”
    “Yes, they’ll all know you’ve married me.” Hervey lifted the hem of his robe, “Here, dry your eyes.”
    Her eyes peered out from between her arms, “You have blood on your neck. It’s staining your lovely robe.”
    “I was shaving. I heard you scream and nearly slit my throat.”
    “Why?”
    “Because I was terrified something bad had happened to you.”
    “You care about me?”
    “I wouldn’t have exposed my nakedness to the kitchen in my mad dash to save you if I didn’t. I’ll blush like a cooked lobster every time Cook asks me if I want sausages. Look at me, I’m still wet.” Hervey felt the sunshine through the window warm his neck and fill the room with a haze of happiness as his wife leapt out of the chair and flung her arms around him, wiping her wet eyes on his chest. Hervey sighed with pleasure. “If you knew how much I care, you’d never call me orange-head.”
    “I’m sorry Hervey creature. Do you hate me?”
    Hervey took advantage of her raised head to kiss her cheek. “Never!”
    “Your brothers hate me; I apologised to that vile Avery creature and he was horrid. He doesn’t want me to be your wife; he doesn’t think I’m good enough for you, I hate him.”
    “Sweetheart, I love my brother and usually value his insight, but his opinion of you is irrelevant to our happiness.”
    “I don’t feel happy, I want to die...”
    “And deprive me of your kisses? That would be cruel.”
    “I want people to like me. Why does everyone hate me?”
    “Sweetheart; calling a man a vile, stupid, ugly orange-head is not the way to win his regard.”
    “Am I supposed to pretend he isn’t ugly or stupid?”
    “Those adjectives are subjective.”
    “What the devil does that mean?”
    “Thinking Avery is a stupid, ugly orange-head is your opinion. I think him handsome, intelligent and kind.”
    “You must be blind.”
    “Just because someone sees the world differently doesn’t make him stupid. We all have our own viewpoint and opinions. Why should yours be more valid than mine?”
    “I’m not blind.”
    “You’d like my brothers if you could see them as I see them. Even David wouldn’t be such a pig if he was his own man.”
    “How can I like your awful brothers when they glare at me?”
    “You assume my brothers glare at you because they hate you, when really they’re gnashing their teeth in envy. I’d wager everything I own that if you’d invited Avery to tea yesterday he’d have dismissed his dreams of love and married you last night and cheerfully performed his conjugal duty thinking all the while how blessed he was to find a rich beautiful wife. Even Belvedere, who insists he’ll marry for love, would probably have sold his dreams for the chance of having a beautiful wife and a home of his own.”
    “Why did you marry me?”
    “Why do you think?”
    “Don’t ask me that stupid question, just tell me the answer.”
    “I have told you.”
    “No you haven’t.”
    “I have and I need to finish shaving so I can dress. I can’t take you out looking like this; people would laugh at you for marrying a madman.”
    “They’ll laugh at us in any case. They’ll call us Mr and Mrs Red till we die. I hate people who call me names. What’s so funny?”
    “Your look of indignation; what’s the difference between calling Avery an orange-head and a stranger calling you Mrs Red?”
    “The Avery creature has an orange head while I’m not Mrs Red.”
    “Sweetheart; his hair is orange, not his head.”
    “Are you trying to make me