Chapter Seven
Ellie, in her nightclothes and robe, hurried through the dark corridor toward her husband’s bedroom, her small lamp lighting her way.
It was well past midnight, but Peter was finally sleeping peacefully and had held down his last plate of toast and breakfast tea.
She’d promised Darius an update, but didn’t feel waking the servants at such an hour was necessary.
Besides, she wanted to give him the news herself.
She counted the doors past his dressing room and parlor until she came to his bedroom.
There was only her dressing room between their two beds, a fact that had made her nervous when she first arrived, but one she appreciated now.
She’d not been immune to the excitement she’d felt at touching him in the nursery.
The heady feeling had her wishing she’d read more of the book Lissa had given her, which sat in the chest at the end of her bed, still wrapped in its brown paper.
She would rectify that oversight as soon as possible, but first she needed to talk to her husband.
Even as she thought the word, her step slowed.
She was truly married, at least according to the law.
She was quite sure that Darius wished to consummate the marriage this very night, which was part of her reasoning for telling him about Peter.
Would he be fast asleep or barely resting, worried about his son?
Should she wake him with a kiss on the cheek, or would that be too bold?
While she knew what to expect—Lady Northwick had been adamant that they all know—she didn’t know how it would feel.
Both Dory and Lissa had been quite thrilled with their marriage beds.
She stopped before Darius’s bedroom door. Her friends had married the men they loved. Her marriage was quite different, but she could easily see herself loving Darius. She already loved his children and it hadn’t been a fortnight yet. But could he love her?
Doubt assailed her. Her mother had made her aware that she was not quite up to snuff as marriage material due to her hair color, lack of grace, and inability to be quiet and sit still.
Would those characteristics still be important to a man who had already married?
She thought back on her limited interactions with Darius.
Not once had he remarked on her hair, nor had she had a mishap, as she liked to call them, while in his presence since the signing of their marriage register, and he’d only had to suggest she quiet her voice once.
There may very well be a chance that he could fall in love with her!
Unable to wait another moment, she opened the door and walked in, remembering to close the door softly.
Quickly, she lowered the flame on her lamp and strode to the bed, which boasted four posts and a large canopy, much like her own.
Limited moonlight shone through the windows, as the curtains hadn’t been drawn.
She stepped up to the bed and held the lamp aloft, but it was empty.
Empty? Where could he be at such an hour? Had he gone to her bedroom in the hope that she’d return? The thought warmed her heart, and she quickly made her way through the door that connected to her dressing room and then moved into her bedroom, only to find it empty as well.
Where was he? Did he stay awake in his study pacing, waiting for news? Was he in the dining room having a late-night meal to settle his worried belly? Had he been called away on business again so soon?
Even as questions filled her head, she strode to her door and out into the corridor once more. She would find her husband. She opened the door to his bedroom once again and walked into his dressing room before shining her lamp on his parlor. He was absent.
Not deterred, she left the room and headed downstairs.
Walking into the parlor, she held her lamp aloft, shedding light on the quiet furniture, but no one was present.
Proceeding into the dining room despite the lack of a fire, she bumped into a chair in the dark, bruising her elbow.
She halted and set the lamp on the table to rub her arm.
Clearly he wasn’t in the room, or he would have remarked on the loud noise.
Still, she lifted her lamp, just to be sure he hadn’t fallen asleep at the table, but he wasn’t there.
Now she worried that he might have been called away after all.
Deep disappointment filled her, but she straightened her shoulders and carefully avoided the chair she’d bumped into as she made her way out of the dining room and parlor and into the corridor once again.
There was a lamp lit on the wall, which made traversing the narrow space a bit easier.
When she came to the double doors of Darius’s study, she composed herself in case he was there. Then she slowly opened the door.
The room was dark except for limited light from what was left of a fire in the fireplace. That wasn’t a good sign. She started forward and bumped into a stack of books, which toppled over onto the dark Persian rug. Barely keeping herself upright, she turned up her lamp and held it higher.
There were stacks of books all over the floor.
Her first thought was that the Duke and Duchess of Northwick would be appalled, since they revered books so completely.
She turned toward the fireplace and slowly walked between the books to see if Darius was there, as she could see a half-empty glass on a small round table.
As she stepped around the large wingback chair, she halted.
Darius wasn’t in it, but Plato, Caesar, and—if she wasn’t mistaken—Alexander the Great, or their busts, were.
All quite notable men, but not her husband.
Turning back toward the rest of the room, she held her lamp high and navigated toward where she knew his desk to be.
Was the room like this because the servants were reorganizing, since he had indeed left on business once again?
As she drew closer to the desk, the light reflected off a number of vases placed haphazardly upon it.
It must be the servants. Disappointed she hadn’t found him, she’d started to turn back when she noticed his desk chair was not at the desk.
It had probably been moved out of the way, but still she was bent upon finding it.
Staying closer to the half-empty shelves of the bookcases, where there seemed to be an easier path, she followed them around the room until she came upon the chair…
and her husband. Her breath caught at the sight.
He’d discarded his waistcoat and cravat, the opening of his shirt revealing very dark hair upon his chest. In sleep, his face was relaxed, even friendly.
His hair was messy as if he’d run his hand through it more than once.
His feet rested on the windowsill, of all places, crossed at the ankles.
If she didn’t know better, she would say he was drunk, but no glass was nearby and a book lay open upon his lap.
Curious, she crept closer. It was a poem by Samuel Taylor Coleridge, but she couldn’t see which one, though a few lines were visible beneath Darius’s hand.
Sophie would know which one it was on sight, but Ellie’s own knowledge was more earthbound.
She stood in indecision. Should she wake him or should she allow him sleep?
By the state of his study, he’d been very busy, and most likely that was to while away the time until Peter was better.
She took a step back. If he’d finally found rest, she wouldn’t disturb it.
Carefully, she made her way back to the doors.
As she pulled the first one closed, she caught it just as it was about to slam, having already forgotten to be careful.
Silently, she pulled it shut. Relieved that Darius was home and they could speak in the morning, she climbed the stairs once again to her bedroom.
Inside, she set the lamp down and dropped her robe on the chair by her fireplace.
After adding bits of coal to the fire, she waited until heat poured forth before moving to the chest at the end of her bed.
She was far too excited about Peter getting well and finding her husband to go to sleep.
She knelt before her chest and lifted the lid.
Inside were various shifts, sheets, and a dozen or so unfinished embroidery squares.
She dug her hands underneath everything until she felt the brown paper.
Pulling the large book from its hiding space, she immediately ripped open the paper.
The Education of the Feminine Species revealed itself in all its leather-bound glory.
She opened the cover and breathed in at the real title of the tome, The Illustrated Pleasure of Seduction.
This was what she would read, as there was no better time to read such a scandalous book.
Quickly, she stuffed the brown paper back under the linens and closed her chest. She rose and brought the book to the chair before the fire.
After lighting another lamp on the mantel, she sat and opened the book.
She flipped through the inscription, the pages of illustrations of a naked man and a naked woman familiar.
She may only have now to learn more before she became a wife in truth, and she wanted to know as much as possible about how it felt.
The next few pages she’d already viewed.
Page five was a naked pair coupling, with the woman below the man, but the next few pages had the two people clothed as the man touched the woman in rather innocuous places.
When Ellie had first seen these, she’d thought them silly.
But at the remembered feeling of touching Darius, she could now see why a man’s knuckles stroked gently across a woman’s cheek, or the touch of his bare finger on her collarbone, would cause her belly to react like a meteorite fell inside her.