8. Chapter 8 #2
A disjointed jumble of images shifted through her mind.
The wedding in the small village chapel.
The wedding feast attended by their family and the villagers followed by dancing last night.
She remembered dancing with Lord David and then dancing with Cora and their mother.
That’s when her memories started to fade.
Someone helped her to bed. Strong hands unlaced her corset.
She could still feel the way they had grasped her waist.
Lord David had taken off her corset with brisk efficiency. She could faintly recall sitting on the edge of the bed as he removed her shoes and stockings. One of her hands had held onto his shoulder as she wobbled, but she couldn’t say what had happened after.
He'd been here with her. He must have consummated the marriage. It only made sense that he would. They had agreed that he would get one night with her. Their wedding night.
There was no tenderness there where she expected there to be. That didn’t necessarily mean anything, however. Perhaps he wasn’t endowed enough to cause such discomfort. Was that possible? No, she had seen the bulge at Cora’s dinner party. It would cause her some notice.
She opened her mouth to ask him but lost her nerve.
“What is this room?” she asked and took another swallow.
The room she had been shown to yesterday was next door to her mother.
It had been a small room the maids had referred to as the yellow room because the curtains and bedding had been a sunny yellow.
This room was not that one. It was huge with a canopy bed, two fireplaces, and an entire seating area that was larger than their drawing room back home in New York.
Aside from the dark wood furniture and floor, the textiles were in shades of cream and blush.
Her veil had been unceremoniously draped over the chair at the dressing table.
Yards of white silk and lace that could only be her wedding gown lay in a heap on the floor.
“This is your bedroom,” he said. “It’s attached to my room by a private corridor.” He indicated an oak door near the windows. “We share a bathing chamber between our rooms.”
“ You undressed me?” she clarified.
“I did.”
If he undressed her, then they must have engaged in other activities.
Good. That was good. She hadn’t set out to overindulge in champagne on her wedding night.
It was one of those things that happened fortuitously, like falling asleep on the train and waking up on arrival or winning a part in an opera and already knowing the songs.
Except this time, it was toast after toast to their future and one glass had become five which had maybe become more.
Her memory was a bit foggy on the exact count.
“Ah, then…I suppose I should get dressed. I’ve already arranged my transportation to Paris. If Cora hasn’t left yet, perhaps I could accompany them back to London to await—”
“London? Jenny, you can’t leave yet. We aren’t…done here.”
Jenny. Not Miss Dove. It was a little jarring to hear those syllables come from his mouth. True, he’d called her that before but always when he was flirting and trying to get under her skin. This time he’d said it like it was normal for him to address her that way.
Dear God, he was her husband now. He could call her whatever he wanted. Her husband. Her brain couldn’t properly process that change. It kept getting stuck on the word. Husband. Lord David was her husband. David. Husband.
She was married to the most lecherous rake in London. What an idiot.
“Whoa.” He relieved her of the water glass and set it on the tray before she could spill it all over the bed.
It was only then that she realized everything else he’d said. “What do you mean we aren’t done? I gave you the wedding night.”
“You gave me the wedding night?” he deadpanned.
She nodded. “That was our bargain.”
He closed his eyes very slowly and then opened them again. “Our bargain was one night. We never specified it to be the wedding night.”
She thought over their conversation and had to agree. “Yes, I suppose that’s true, but what does it matter? One night…the wedding night…the marriage was consummated. ”
“You were in a drunken stupor last night.” He stared at her, a bevy of emotion reflected in his expression. “Do you mean to say you believe I would take advantage of you in such a state?”
“Not take advantage, no. You had my agreement.”
He rose abruptly, his movements stiff and a little angry.
The dressing gown had beautiful gold braiding along the lapels.
She was certain it was that detail that drew her gaze to the very deep V over his chest that revealed he wore no shirt underneath.
His skin was tanner than she thought it would be, matching the sun-kissed complexion of his face.
A light sprinkling of dark hair covered his defined muscles and made her stomach swirl in a way she couldn’t decide was pleasant or unpleasant.
It also revealed the faint blue lines of a tattoo partially hidden by the fabric.
She had an insane urge to know what was illustrated there on his pectoral.
“I can assure you, Miss Dove, that when I do have you it will be with your full participation…” His voice trailed off as something seemed to strike him. “Did you ply yourself with alcohol in an attempt to renege on your portion of our agreement?”
She most certainly would not be answering that question under any circumstances. “I’m not Miss Dove anymore.”
A sniff of displeasure was his answer. “You are…for now…until we consummate this marriage properly tonight.”
Maybe it was the champagne still in her system or maybe it was the adorably befuddled expression he wore, but something made her laugh. She covered her mouth as soon as the giggle escaped, but it was too late. His brows lowered over his eyes like storm clouds rolling in.
“My apologies,” she said, but it was ruined by another laugh. “I’m sorry. Nothing about this is funny.” So why couldn’t she stop laughing? “It’s only that you’ve been waiting so patiently and I do feel badly.” She didn’t, though she probably should .
“I’ll send a maid in with a breakfast tray and to help you dress. Wear walking boots.” He turned on his heel and stormed to the door that led to his room.
“But what are we doing?” she called to his back.
“Meet me outside in an hour.” He tossed this over his shoulder as if she had no choice but to accept.
She supposed it would be in bad form to reject him.
She’d already put him through so much. Another giggle erupted as she imagined him frustrated and lonely in his room last night.
Even though she knew that she had only delayed the inevitable by a day, she felt a little relieved.
She’d been too nervous yesterday with everything happening to properly ready herself for a night with him anyway.
Tonight would be much better.