Chapter 3 #2
She glanced around, curiosity filling her about what lie behind the many doors they passed.
He pointed. “My chamber is on the left, and it will have to be spacious enough to accommodate both of us, I’m afraid.”
“I see.”
She was mildly surprised that she would not have her own chamber here, but it was an unexpected boon to share a room and bed with her husband, surely.
He’d said theirs was to be a marriage of convenience, besides the consummation and making of children.
But she had hoped for an opportunity to know her husband better.
The first step was sharing the same bed at least once, though her stomach was in knots now, thinking about how that would go.
What she did know about Chatham’s love life after his wife died was mostly secondhand gossip.
He was an earl, and very popular. He had not lacked for female company.
His good looks appealed to a great many women.
If Amelia had met him when she first came out, and married him, she would never have been tempted to stray.
He was, in a word, nearly perfect.
The only blemish in his character, according to her brother, was the coldness of his heart. Not that Amelia could blame him for that, after everything he’d been through with his first wife. But it did explain why he had approached her in so serious a manner about his plans to wed again.
Amelia had been burned too.
When they had returned to the discussion of marriage upon his return, it had been repeatedly stated that there would never be any expectation of great personal connection between them.
He only wanted her for a mother for his children, a responsible partner to look after his home and estate grounds.
And since Amelia liked children, and gardening was her passion, she was now keen to claim both as soon as she could.
Love and affection between them were utterly unimportant.
Chatham directed her to a door, opened it, and ushered her inside. She found herself in a large, square, well-appointed bedchamber, sufficiently lit by candles and a roaring fireplace, with his valet currently unpacking his employer’s trunk.
Chatham sent him away with a flick of his hand.
“This has been my chambers since I was a boy,” he announced, strolling around the room.
Amelia glanced about but found no great insight into his character or past here. The room smelled of beeswax and his cologne.
“I will leave you to get settled in, Lady Chatham,” he said suddenly. “The maid your brother provided will continue to act as your personal maid until a better one is hired in Devon. Until tomorrow.”
Amelia turned to him in surprise. “Can we not speak together for a few moments more?”
Chatham frowned at the door. “I had imagined you’d prefer to be alone to eat before retiring for the night. You must be tired.”
Amelia shook her head. “I wish to discuss the consummation.”
His jaw clenched briefly. “Now is not the time.”
She tried not to show her disappointment. “Why not do it now? I do not wish to put it off until I fear it.”
His eyes widened.
Amelia would not be put off by his shock when she spoke her mind. It was to be expected with a marriage like theirs. She wished for the truthful blunt exchanges of their initial discussion to continue.
She removed the pins from her hair and let the long blonde locks tumble down her back. Then she slipped off her cloak, loosened the strings on the front of her gown, and kicked away her slippers.
Chatham did not move, and greater awkwardness set in. She wet her lips, unsure how to proceed, or even if she could. “Must I make an appointment for you to take my innocence?”
He wet his lips, too. “This is not what we agreed upon, Lady Chatham,” he argued, even as he dug a finger under his cravat and tried to loosen it. “When we are home, there will be leisure time to indulge in this sort of thing.”
Amelia scowled, realizing she had other ideas than the usually unflappable earl she had married.
She let her gown slip lower. With one shimmy of her hips, the material was pooled at her feet.
Then she reached for the strings of her stays.
She loosened them too, her cheeks growing warm, but knowing there was no turning back now.
She wanted this done and out of the way.
The room was warm, and the candlelight made it seem almost romantic, save for the reluctant groom standing stiffly across from her.
She flung her stays away and stood before him in only her thin chemise, knowing that the firelight would reveal her figure under the sheer garment. This was as seductive as she knew how to be.
Chatham’s breath became labored, and his face turned an interesting shade of pink. She waited for him to act.
He only watched her, though, fists now clenched at his sides.
Amelia saw no other choice but to move things along herself…and she reached for the hem of her chemise.
“Stop,” he barked.
She did, confounded by his order. “I want to consummate our marriage tonight, husband. Do husbands and wives not undress for intimacy?”
“Sometimes they do, but not always.” Chatham groaned out loud. “There’s no cause for haste in this matter. We should take more time,” he said, glancing at the doorway.
“Yes, but the longer we are married, the more nervous I will become about sharing your bed. I would rather have it over and done with now, so we might continue without the burden of it hanging over our heads,” she told him.
His head whipped around. “Burden?”
Amelia rushed to explain. “It is obvious that you were greatly let down by your first wife, and I am well aware of the differences between us.”
“Differences?”
“She was very beautiful, lively, and voluptuous. I am none of that. My hair does not curl about my face in pleasing waves, my breasts are small…but I’m told they will change after I have a child. I wish to make this easy for you.”
He shuffled his feet. “Believe me, Amelia, the last thing I am doing right now is comparing you to my late wife.”
There was embarrassment on his face.
“So, it is all right then?” she asked, gesturing to her lack of attire.
He nodded slowly and sighed. “As you say, best to get it out of the way before you terrify yourself and me.”
She laughed at the idea of a man being afraid of intimacy with her. “It is not so much terror as not understanding what you expect of me there,” she clarified, pointing at the bed. “I’m an old maid, and aside from public situations, we have barely touched, let alone kissed.”
“Ah. So that is the real issue,” he drawled. He stepped closer and reached for her face, and his touch was gentle as he held her jaw. “You wished to be wooed, and not having done so, you have taken it upon yourself to seduce me.”
“A kiss would be enough, perhaps,” she told him.
“I do not kiss anyone anymore,” he said firmly. “I had not kissed my wife since her betrayal became known.
Amelia gulped. “Oh…”
Chatham drew closer though, and she was relieved when he swooped in and pressed his lips to hers.
Kissing was not something she had done since her scandal, but she remembered enjoying.
Chatham’s kiss was brief, perfunctory almost.
He drew back, frowning, and Amelia lowered her eyes, disappointed.
She’d worked hard to maintain her dignity since her scandal, but she recalled all the excitement of those heady, stolen moments with her one and only beau.
But this moment was not stolen. This was her life now.
She expected something more.
Raising her chin, Amelia rose up on her toes and kissed Lord Chatham herself, knowing that there could be no risk in doing so.
Chatham, taken by surprise, did not resist.
They kissed for endless minutes, her near naked body pressed against the earl in all his splendor still. The disparity excited her, and she lopped her arms about his neck as her passions ignited.
Suddenly, the earl pulled her even harder against him, digging his fingers into her hips. He moved her toward the bed and flung the bed linens out of the way. Amelia held on to his shoulders as she was lifted and deposited there, quite willing to be swept away.
And he did that, covering her body with his quickly, all the while kissing her lips as if he were desperate for her.
They pressed together harder and harder with each passing moment, and before long, Amelia felt tension building down low where they touched. Her body throbbed, and she felt herself grow warm and wet between her legs. She squirmed, seeking relief.
Lord Chatham reached between them to cup her sex and that was all it took to bring about climax.
She ought to be embarrassed that such pleasures she’d discovered on her own but she did not apologize.
Chatham tugged her chemise up and then fumbled with the opening of his breeches.
It did not take long before he joined with her, and Amelia shut her eyes tightly against the discomfort as he took her maidenhead but a squeak of distress must have escaped her.
He froze above her, then his movements grew fast until he groaned and shuddered.
Amelia was stunned it was over so quickly, but they lay connected for a long moment, each panting for breath.
Then Lord Chatham disengaged and rolled away.
They lay side by side, staring up at the ceiling.
“Was it as bad as you thought it would be?” he asked eventually.
Amelia risked a glance at him. Chatham was not looking at her, and she turned her attention back to the intricate ceiling above her head, too. “It was not dissimilar from what my imagination had led me to believe,” she told him.
“I have to go.”
She frowned at the abrupt news. “Why?”
“The servants will be outside soon, waiting to serve you, and I promised to return downstairs tonight. I will give everyone your apologies.”
“Everyone?”
“My father is hosting a house party he failed to inform me of,” he said, sounding highly displeased.
Amelia sat up too quickly and her head spun, wincing as discomfort between her legs became evident, too. “Oh.”
Chatham threw himself out of bed, turned his back as he redressed himself. Then he started collecting her clothing and draping them in a tidy pile at the foot of the bed. He placed her shoes neatly beside it all, and Amelia marveled at his composure.
She had hoped there might be more tenderness after the deed was done. Apparently, she was wrong about that.
“The servants will be here soon. You should redress before they arrive,” he announced. “I don’t know when I will return. Do you need my help?”
“No but shouldn’t I dress and come downstairs with you?”
“No,” he snapped. “It is much too late to summon a maid to prepare you properly to join the party and make our announcement. I would rather the gathering was not deep in their cups when we face them together.”
Amelia sat there a long moment, stung by his rejection of her presence on his arm but seeing the sense of a delay till tomorrow. She would need at least an hour to dress appropriately for a roomful of the duke’s closest friends and family.
Chatham shuffled his feet, and it seemed obvious that he was uncomfortable. He couldn’t wait to go. But he also seemed to be waiting for her blessing to leave the room.
“I understand. Good night then,” she whispered.
“Good night, my lady,” he answered, and she heard him depart the room.
Humiliated, Amelia slipped out from under the sheet and gathered up her gown from today.
When she glanced over the bed, she spotted a smear of red upon the snowy-white linen sheet and sighed.
She quickly hid the proof of the loss of innocence by remaking the bed herself and then hurried behind the dressing screen to tend herself.
By the time servants arrived with the promised supper tray, Amelia had put the awkward coupling to the back of her mind as best she could.
She might have hoped for more tenderness from her husband, but as with everyone in her life so far, she had been left wanting.
If she ever craved real affection in her marriage, she could only rely on the children to provide it.