Chapter Eleven
Georgina dismissed her lady’s maid and moved to the full-length mirror in her dressing room. She had three rooms: one for sleeping, one for dressing, and one for reading, eating, or having close friends visit. It was actually more than her mother had had at their estate.
She viewed herself critically. Like most female birds, her coloring didn’t stand out.
Dark brown hair that she held back with a white ribbon, pale skin to match her ribbon, pale pink lips, and golden-brown eyes.
Perhaps her eyes were a bit different, but otherwise she was like any other female of her species.
The shift she wore was her best one, but not new. What would Philip think of her?
She moved away from the mirror and walked into her bedroom.
Her new husband would soon walk through the connecting door and consummate their marriage.
She wasn’t nervous. She simply wasn’t excited.
Maybe if they didn’t kiss first, it wouldn’t be so disappointing.
Yes, that would make it so much better. He kissed far better than Lord Ashfield, so having Philip take her after kissing her would be an even bigger disappointment because he had made her feel so wonderful.
But was that acceptable, not kissing before intercourse?
She started to pace toward the fireplace then back to the door he would come through.
What if he refused her request? He was her husband now.
If he wanted to kiss her before entering her, there was nothing she could say about it.
All her married friends said they enjoyed their conjugal visits.
Maybe there was something wrong with her.
At that thought, she stopped.
The book! The book Sophie had given her that very morning.
All her married classmates had read it. Maybe there was something in there that would let her know if she was normal.
Maybe because she was born to her mother so late, something was wrong with her.
The duchess had not discussed differences among women or men in the biology course, only what occurred normally.
She scanned the room. Where was the book?
She’d given it to a maid to bring to her room, but there was nothing on the end tables.
She rushed to the dressing room, but no shelf contained a brown-paper-wrapped book.
She ran into the sitting room, scanning every table surface, but no book was in sight.
Maybe her chest or armoire. She moved back to her dressing room and hastily looked through the drawers, then pushed back the clothes that hung inside the armoire to see if the book was at the bottom, but nothing was there.
What if it hadn’t come to her room yet? Frantic now, as if the book had the answer she sought, she went back into her bedroom and knelt by her chest. She looked toward the connecting door and listened.
Hearing no sounds from that area, she opened her chest.
“Georgina, what are you doing on the floor?”
Startled, she slammed the chest shut, whipping her head around to find Philip entering her room from the door to the corridor.
She jumped up to stare at him. He wore a brown dressing gown with black trim tied with a silken black belt. The material revealed part of his chest, which appeared to have a smattering of light brown hair upon it.
Feeling flustered, she pointed to her right. “Why didn’t you enter from there? I thought you’d come through our connecting door.”
He closed the door behind him. “My rooms don’t connect to yours.”
“But Mrs. Newman told me today that my rooms connect to the lord’s rooms. You are the Lord of Durham.”
“Yes, I am, but I didn’t move into my father’s rooms after his passing.”
She frowned at him, completely baffled. “Was that not over three years ago?”
“It was. However, I had no need to move my rooms, as I have not resided long here at Crestfield Hall, and since I was not looking to marry, there was no rush.”
While that all made sense, he held himself very stiffly, like he did whenever he didn’t wish to discuss a subject.
She hadn’t realized that until just now.
She’d been watching him in public as well as in private, and there was definitely a stiffness that could be seen along his jawline and at the corners of his eyes.
“Then perhaps you will move in before we leave for Town?”
He inhaled. “Perhaps.”
Her parents had used that word far too many times, and it meant no. “You don’t intend to move into those rooms before we leave. Will you when we return in the fall?”
He waved off her question. “That is hardly a conversation we need to have tonight. After all, this is an auspicious night. We are now married.” He walked toward her, though no smile lifted his lips. There was a predatory feel to his movements, as his gaze didn’t leave her for a moment.
Now she was the one who felt stiff. Having him in her bedroom made her request for no kissing feel odd, especially because she greatly desired for him to kiss her.
He held out his hand. “Come, let us learn about each other.”
She wasn’t sure what that meant, but she had an inkling. Still, she took his hand, curious what he would do. Would he have her touch him through his dressing gown, much like Ashfield had had her touch his pantaloons? Would he squeeze her breasts and find them lacking in size, as Ashfield had?
He led her around to the side of the bed. Then he cupped her face and kissed her.
Despite knowing the disappointment to come, she wrapped her arms around his waist and kissed him back.
He smelled of spruce, her favorite tree, for the goldcrest lived among them, and she just adored that little bird.
Was that why she felt safe? Whatever the reason, she took a deep breath as she stroked her tongue inside his mouth, tasting a bit of cognac and something else.
He moved his hand to behind her head and tilted it slightly, and she felt warmth fill her as excitement started in the pit of her belly. Then both his hands ran down her back to her behind, and her insides tightened with yearning.
Suddenly, the cool air of the room brushed her legs from behind and she broke the kiss. But instead of stepping back, he continued to lift her shift from her body.
“Husband, what are you doing?”
He stopped, holding the shift at her waist. “I’m disrobing you so we can make love.”
That wasn’t how Ashfield had done it, but Philip was her husband, so maybe he preferred it that way. “Of course.” She lifted her arms, and he pulled the shift from over her head.
She froze, except to rub her thumbs over her fingers, while he turned away to lay the shift over a chair nearby. When he turned back, she stared at his feet and held her breath, knowing he’d be disappointed.
When he didn’t say anything for the longest time, she looked up to find his gaze roaming over her body. She wasn’t sure if it was his lack of a grimace or the way his gaze kept coming back to the juncture of her thighs that had a strange need growing between her legs.
“You’re beautiful, like Gustave Courbet’s Woman with a Parrot painting.”
She knew many paintings from taking classes under Lady Sommerset, but that one she didn’t know. She wished she did, as now she didn’t know what to say.
Fortunately, he didn’t wait for an answer, just untied the belt around his waist and shrugged off the dressing gown to catch it with one hand. Then he turned around to lay it over her shift.
She looked wide-eyed at his rounded behind and the muscles in the backs of his thighs.
She’d never seen a naked man except for sketches in the books in class.
When he turned back, she stared, her mouth falling open and her hands releasing.
No sketch had prepared her for her husband.
His chest was broad and muscled, as was his abdomen.
Beneath that, above strong thighs, was his penis.
It stuck out from his body, and was far larger than any sketch.
“Georgina, you look stunned.”
She forced her gaze to meet his. “I’ve never seen a man before. I mean, I have, of course, but not naked.” She licked her lips, the tension inside her far greater than anything she’d felt before.
He frowned. “But I thought you’re no longer a virgin.”
“I’m not.” Not comfortable discussing what happened, she didn’t inquire as to why he asked. But she did know one thing—his body made it clear, just as it had when she’d felt the hard ridge in the garden earlier. It was the same as what Ashfield’s pantaloons had told her. “You want to take me now.”
“I do.”
She’d hoped for something different, maybe something more, because the need inside her was far different from her last experience with intercourse. But as he was her husband, it was her duty to comply, and it was a small price to pay to be free of her family.
Giving him a quick nod, she turned around and bent over the bed so he could enter her.
“Georgina, what are you doing?”
She looked over her shoulder. “Waiting for you to take me.” She turned back to look at the quilt. It was a pretty lavender color, though that wasn’t her favorite. Still, it did have a soothing feel to it.
When she didn’t feel him grab her hips, she looked over her shoulder again, only to find that he’d donned his dressing gown and was walking toward her. She was more comfortable with that, as Ashfield hadn’t even undressed.
Then the bed dipped down beside her as Philip sat. “Georgina, turn around and sit with me.”
Old fears that she wasn’t good enough surfaced, and she quickly sat, pulling the quilt over her to cover her body. Why did he say she was beautiful if he didn’t want her? She clutched the quilt with both hands, refusing to cry over what she’d known was a possibility.
Philip pried one of her hands from the quilt and held it, but she couldn’t look at him. Instead, she stared at the chair where her shift lay.
“Georgina, you don’t have to tell me, but I’m going to guess. The man who took your virginity did not undress and did not undress you.”