Chapter 27
Evelina’s body had settled into a strange numbness.
She let herself wilt against the bed linens, too exhausted to move.
For the past several hours, she had drifted in and out of sleep.
Stephan was gone, and it was quiet. She inhaled softly and leaned her head back against the pillows.
Evelina had never before noticed how comfortable a bed could be.
However, Evelina found herself faced with a rather vexing conundrum; she was terribly bored. She heard the faint sound of footsteps outside her bedchamber, followed by the creak of her door. “Stephan?” she asked.
The moment the words left her mouth, a little jolt of anxiety swept over her. Why had she assumed that it was him? It might have been anyone else, and as her lady’s maid Isabelle entered the room, Evelina realized that she had assumed incorrectly. Her husband must still be with the solicitor.
“Did you require something, Your Grace?” Isabelle asked.
Evelina sighed. “I am terribly bored.”
Isabelle’s face softened. “Perhaps I can bring something for you to read, Your Grace? Or maybe you would like to do some embroidery? I recall that you were working on a lovely set of cushions.”
Evelina had been. It was a set of four, three of which had been completed.
She had intended them for her own parlor, not for a husband’s house, but maybe the house could do with something bright and new.
The house was pleasant enough, but it did also look as if no one had given thought to the decorations in some time.
“I think I would like some flowers,” Evelina said slowly. “That would add some needed color to the house.”
Isabelle nodded. “I can see that is done for you.”
Evelina frowned, thinking. “And I will embroider the cushion. Bring it to me, please.”
Isabelle curtsied and hurried away, and Evelina let herself rest against the pillow.
Embroidery would be a good pursuit. She could keep her hands and mind busy, and when the next wave of exhaustion swept over her, she would be able to simply set the cushion aside and resume her work at a later time.
After some time, Isabelle returned with the linen, which would make the cushion.
Evelina had left it decorated with a ring of lovely pink and red roses.
She carefully threaded her needle and resumed her work, her fingers nimbly working with the thread.
As she embroidered, her mind wandered to Stephan.
He seemed rather calm about waiting for the consummation of their marriage, but Evelina knew that he must be frustrated by the delay.
After all, he had little time. Even the smallest delay in Evelina producing an heir or any difficulties in her pregnancy might ruin all his designs for gaining control of the dukedom. She bit the inside of her cheek, torn.
Evelina had to admit that her husband was kind.
Even if there would never be any real fondness between them, he was gentle and respectful.
He was decent, and if she had married a man like him in her youth, she might not have become so fiercely independent.
Evelina did not regret the woman who she had become, of course, but a small part of her wondered who she might have been.
“I brought these flowers for you,” Isabelle announced.
She had chosen delicate purple blossoms and little pink roses from the garden. Evelina smiled as the young woman placed the vase on the nearest table. “Lovely,” she said.
“I can place more around the house if you like,” Isabelle offered.
“That would be lovely,” replied Evelina.
If the flowers were not placed in her bedchamber, Evelina would not be able to enjoy them.
She might be weary of lying in bed, but the thought of leaving her bedchamber filled her with just a little more dread than boredom.
It would be something to brighten the house, though.
She would be able to appreciate the flowers in just a few days, for she could not possibly be ill for much longer. The physician had said so.
“I shall see that it is done,” Isabelle said. “Is there anything else?”
Evelina pursed her lips together, thinking. “Nothing in particular,” she said. “But I do think the house could do with a little brightening up, don’t you?”
Isabelle offered a small, wry smile. “This house is a little less colorful than your own.”
Evelina wrinkled her nose. She thought about the giant, gilded portraits and the thick drapes and dark furniture. “It is heavy,” she mused. “Perhaps we ought to begin by opening the curtains to let in some light. I would also like to see the linens.”
“Yes, Your Grace.”
Isabelle departed, and Evelina resumed embroidering. This was more like her, in charge and making her space—
Well, she was not really making her space.
She would only live with Stephan until an heir was born, less than a year.
Then, she would return to her own townhouse and never see her husband again, or if she did, those occasions would be few.
No, she was only making these changes, so she felt a little better about being so terribly sick.
Besides, it was not as if she could leave part of the house undecorated. That would be an oddity. No, if she was going to insist upon bringing some color and light to the place, she needed to be consistent with what she was doing.
Evelina hummed to herself, carefully crafting the petals of a delicate, pink flower and adding a little ring of green leaves.
She wondered if Stephan would notice the changes.
If he did, would he even care? Evelina bit her lip.
Maybe she should have asked Stephan if he cared before choosing to make changes to the house.
Then again, this would be her home for a little while, too. If making those little changes made Evelina feel better, what was the harm in them? The sooner she was better, the sooner she and Stephan could consummate the marriage.
The sooner she would have a child.
Evelina would add all the light and color she wanted to this townhouse, and there was nothing Stephan could do to stop her.
* * *
“Did you decide to purchase all the flowers in London?” asked Stephan, as he entered the bedchamber.
Evelina sat upright, adjusting the pillow behind her, so she was more comfortable. “I thought the house would benefit from having some color.”
Stephan dropped into his chair. He wrinkled his nose and scoffed. “Am I to assume that you will be adding color throughout the entire house?”
“Of course,” she said. “I cannot simply put color in only a small part of the house. I must ensure that everything is perfectly balanced.”
“I see.”
“Good,” Evelina said. “Besides, I feel better when I have something to do.”
She showed him her embroidery, which was nearly finished. His eyes flicked to it, an uncertain look crossing his face. “That is nice.” He offered the compliment awkwardly, as if he did not quite know what to say.
“I have been working on it between rests,” Evelina said. “I think these cushions would be perfect in the drawing room.”
“These?”
“It is a set of four,” Evelina informed him. “The cushions must all match, of course.”
“Are the present cushions insufficient?” Stephan asked, arching an eyebrow.
“They are faded,” she said with a sniff. “Let me make my improvements to the house.”
“I had not noticed.”
“Men never do,” she said.
He had certainly noticed her changes, though. Evelina narrowed her eyes, watching him for a long moment. Stephan traced his thumb over one of her embroidered flowers. “I shall strive to be more observant in the future,” he said.
“Good.”
She stifled a yawn and pulled the bedlinens up to her chin. A shiver shot like lightning through her body, raising gooseflesh over her arms. Evelina sighed and turned onto her side, curling up in an attempt to warm herself.
While her condition was a little improved, she was still not fully recovered. Her fever had lessened, but it was not gone. The aching in her head had stopped, but her skull still felt as if it was full of cotton. Her eyes burned.
“Are you certain that you ought to be worrying about making the place brighter?” Stephan asked. “You do not want to exert yourself too much, or you will not recover.”
“It is not exerting myself,” Evelina said. “Besides, I have a cold—a little, temporary ailment. It is not as if I am a step away from the grave.”
“I would like to keep you away from there,” Stephan said grimly, handing the embroidered piece back to her.
Evelina’s fingers brushed his, and she inhaled sharply. The small contact reminded her of how his hands had felt on her thighs and breasts. Her heart was in her throat. As soon as she was well, they would try their consummation again. Would she be prepared for it?
Evelina looked away, hoping that Stephan would not notice her doubtful expression.
She was ill. But what if this illness was just—just something like a shield?
Evelina could not deny that a little wave of relief swept over her when she thought about how this little cold meant that she did not need to have a congress with her husband. Not yet.
“How was your day?” she asked, hoping for a distraction. “Did the conversation with the solicitor go well?”
Stephan grunted. “Well enough. Speaking with solicitors is not particularly interesting business.”
Evelina hummed. “I suppose I ought to visit mine, also.”
Stephan raised an eyebrow. “There is no need. Everything is fine.”
“And I would be a fool if I took you at your word,” Evelina said. “A lady ought to always be in charge of her own fortune.”
His lips twitched into an amused smile. “That is why my grandmother detests you so much. You are independent, and it frustrates her.”
“She will have to become accustomed to frustration, then.”
“I suppose she shall.” Stephan glanced at the vase of flowers near Evelina. “The color has truly made you feel better?”
“Yes.”
“I suppose I shall become accustomed to that,” he said, with a huff. “If it makes you feel better.”
“It does.”
Stephan stood and curled his hands over the back of his chair, gazing solemnly at her for a long moment.
Evelina blinked, trying to force back the wave of exhaustion.
She had found that the tiredness came in waves.
In one moment, she would be awake and well; in the next, she wanted nothing more in the world than to bury herself under the bed linens and sleep.
“Is there anything I can do for you?” Stephan asked gently. “Anything else that will make you feel better?”
“No, I fear that I simply need time and rest, but…” She trailed off, weighing what she wanted in her mind. There was one thing that she would like to have, but Evelina hesitated to ask. Of late, she had found herself perilously close to becoming fond of Stephan.
Evelina told herself it was simply because she was ill, but even she did not believe that was the only reason.
She had begun to develop a liking for her husband, even though she did not quite know why, and if she did not proceed with caution, that like might blossom into something more. Something disastrous.
“What do you want?” Stephan’s voice was kind and patient. “I promise it is no trouble whatever it might be.”
Evelina swallowed hard and curled her fingers into the bedlinens, as if by holding that material tightly she might also hold herself—her thoughts, her desires, her resolve—together.
“Will you stay with me for a while?” she asked at last. “Just to talk. I promise that I will fall asleep soon, so you will not be forced to stay with me all night.”
Stephan chuckled and grinned roguishly. “What torment!” he teased. “Being forced to endure the company of a beautiful lady!”
“Truly,” Evelina said. “No man has ever suffered more than you.”
Stephan pulled his chair closer and sat in it once more. “I will stay with you for as long as you want me,” he said.
“Thank you.”
Stephan inclined his head, silently accepting her gratitude. “So aside from the flowers and the embroidered cushions, what else do you want to do?”
Evelina grinned. “My dear husband, you will simply have to wait and see.”