Chapter Thirteen #2
Everyone did the same, clinking glasses once more.
Henry looked over at his bride. She met his gaze, her eyes soft with emotion.
He stood, his glass in hand. He looked at the faces around the table—her brothers who’d welcomed him, their wives who’d embraced Sophia with such warmth, Charlotte and Thomas who’d been his anchors through the darkest years.
“I’m not one for eloquent speeches, unfortunately.
But I would be remiss if I didn’t say a few words.
” He turned to Sebastian and James. “Thank you for entrusting your sister to my care. You can rest easy that I will cherish and protect her for as long as I live.” His gaze returned to Sophia.
“Sophia, you have brought this broken man back to life. I cannot imagine life without you now. Thank you for reminding me what it is like to live, rather than merely exist. From this day forward, I will try my best to be a man worthy of your heart. To give you what you have given me.”
He raised his glass. “To my beautiful wife.” He grinned, glancing down at Sophia. “Wife? It feels strange to say but I have a paper that proves it to be true.”
“Thank you, dear husband” Sophia said, eyes shining.
The rest of the breakfast passed in a blur of conversation and celebration. The cake was cut and served, accompanied by champagne. Finally, their stomachs full, they all got up from the table and headed to the drawing room to celebrate further. Henry hoped the day would pass quickly.
*
The house grew quiet as the evening deepened. Sebastian and Rose retired first, pleading exhaustion from the journey and the emotion of the day. James and Georgiana followed soon after, James clapping Henry on the shoulder with a knowing look that made Henry’s collar feel too tight.
Finally, it was just Henry and Sophia in the drawing room, the fire burning low, the candles guttering in their holders.
“I should go up.” Sophia stood, smoothing her skirts. “Mrs. Shaw will be waiting to help me undress.”
“Yes, I’ll give you time.” Henry rose as well, his heart pounding. “How much time exactly?” He grimaced, unsure of himself and almost dizzy thinking of what lay beneath her dress.
She smiled and a giggle escaped. “I do not know, my lord. Having never prepared for my wedding night before.”
“I shall be patient, then.”
“Shall we?” She gestured toward the door. “Walk up together?”
“Of course.” He offered his arm, and they climbed the stairs without speaking. At the top, where the corridor branched toward their chambers, they both hesitated.
“Well,” Sophia said, her cheeks pink. “I suppose this is where we part. For now.”
“For now,” Henry agreed. His chambers were to the right and hers to the left. “I’ll knock on our adjoining door before joining you. To make sure you’re ready.”
“I’ll be waiting.” She rose on her toes and pressed a quick kiss to his cheek, then hurried down the corridor before he could respond.
Henry watched her go, then turned toward his own chambers where he knew Davies would be waiting. His heart was racing so fast he felt lightheaded.
When he entered his room, Davies was indeed there, laying out Henry’s nightclothes. The older man’s expression was carefully neutral, but there was a hint of warmth in his eyes.
“My lord,” Davies said.
“Thank you, Davies.” Henry began working at his cravat with fumbling fingers. “I’m… that is…she will be waiting for me.”
“I understand perfectly.” Davies moved to help him with the cravat, his hands steady while Henry’s were shaking.
Henry let Davies help him out of his coat, his waistcoat, his shirt. “At my age, I did not anticipate such nerves.”
“It is a night anticipated for a while now, my lord.” Davies smiled as he handed Henry his nightshirt. “It is natural to be nervous. However, I believe very soon you will feel many other things besides nerves.”
Henry felt heat rise to his face but couldn’t help smiling. “You’re impertinent, Davies.”
Davies gave him a full grin this time. “Yes, my lord. Will you require anything else?”
“No. Thank you. You may go.”
Davies bowed and slipped from the room, leaving Henry alone in his nightshirt, staring at the connecting door that led to Sophia’s chambers.
He could hear movement on the other side, along with soft voices as Mrs. Shaw helped Sophia prepare. The rustle of fabric. A quiet laugh. Finally, the door of Sophia’s room opening and closing. Mrs. Shaw’s footsteps faded down the hallway.
Henry crossed to the door and stood there, his hand raised to knock, his heart pounding so loudly he was certain she could hear it through the wood. Then, gathering his courage, he knocked.
“Come in,” came Sophia’s soft voice.
He opened the door.
He had not often been in this room. He’d once imagined Eleanor would occupy the space, but after she died, he’d avoided even glancing at the door between the two bedchambers.
But now, he took it in anew. In fact, it seemed as if had been made for Sophia.
Pale blue silk covered the walls, and a fire burned cheerfully in the marble fireplace, casting dancing shadows across the room.
A single oil lamp on the bedside table provided soft, steady light.
A four-poster bed, curtains of cream damask tied back with silk cords, took up a large portion of the room.
The coverlet had been turned down, revealing crisp white linens.
A dressing table with an oval mirror stood against one wall, a wardrobe against another.
Two comfortable chairs flanked the fireplace, and heavy velvet curtains had been drawn against the March night.
And standing by the fire, her hands clasped nervously in front of her, was Sophia.
Henry stopped, staring at her.
She wore a nightgown of fine white lawn, so delicate it seemed to float around her.
The neckline was modest but edged with lace, and the long sleeves gathered at her wrists with pale blue ribbons that matched her eyes.
And her hair was down, falling in loose waves past her shoulders, past her waist, catching the firelight and turning to spun gold.
Seeing her like this, with her hair unbound and flowing free, was somehow more intimate than anything else.
Nothing in his past could have prepared him for the overwhelming nature of his feelings. Love and desire and admiration, but also familiarity. A feeling of rightness. This heavenly angel had come into his life and changed absolutely everything.
My God. How was this beautiful creature offering herself to him?
“I am ready, as you can see,” She twisted her hands in front of her. “Yet, I find myself quite overcome.”
“As am I.” His voice was more of a growl than words. He cleared his throat and tried again. “I have never seen anything as beautiful as you are tonight.”
A blush rose in her cheeks. “Thank you, Henry.” Her flush deepened. “I must confess, I am not entirely sure what is supposed to happen next.”
“Perhaps we should talk for a moment? To put ourselves at ease.” He gestured to the chairs by the fireplace. “If that suits you?”
Relief flickered across her face. “I would like that very much.”
They settled into the chairs, the fire crackling softly between them.
“It was a splendid day,” Sophia said after a moment. “Wasn’t it?”
“The best day.” Henry leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “I’d anticipated the ceremony being somewhat tortuous.”
She burst out laughing. “Why?”
“Everyone looking at us, I suppose. Instead, I found myself fixated on you and forgot anyone else was even there. It moved me more than I thought it would.”
She peeked up at him from beneath her lashes. “I felt the same.”
“How exactly? Did you feel, I mean?”
“It seemed that Providence smiled down upon me. On us. I felt very fortunate indeed to have been chosen by you, regardless of why.”
He reached over to caress the underside of her wrist, marveling at the softness of her skin.
“There is something I must say. I do not know if I was as clear as I should have been earlier, when we spoke in the carriage. It is not only that I desire you physically. I find myself more and more smitten with you as the days go on. This initial agreement of ours is not something I can continue. This is not a marriage of convenience. Not for me.”
“Smitten?” Her eyes crinkled at the corners. “I quite like that word coming from your mouth.”
“I’m falling, Sophia. Desperately in love with you.”
“Do you mean it?”
“With all my heart.” He stroked his thumb along her jawline. “You are everything I’ve wanted. Not for Amelia, although that is a blessing, but for me. You do not have to reciprocate. I wanted only for you to understand.”
“I reciprocate. I, too, am smitten. I cannot confess to knowing exactly when. Just suddenly, I knew. But I daren’t hope that you would feel the same way.”
“And here I thought you were a good actress.”
She bubbled over with laughter. “It was easy to pretend to love you, Henry. In fact, it seemed like the most natural thing in the world.”
He leaned closer, kissing her.
She melted into him, her arms coming around his neck, and he stood, lifting her with him. She gasped against his mouth but didn’t pull away. Instead, she kissed him deeper, her fingers threading through his hair.
“Are you afraid?” Henry asked. “Or do you have any questions?”
“I am not afraid. I trust you. But, please, be patient with me. Gentle too? I understand that the first time is not always pleasant for the woman.”
“It is not. However, the second time will be much better.”
“Then, please, take me to bed.”
He carried her to the bed and laid her down gently on the white linens. “Have I told you how beautiful you are to me, my lady?”
“I shall never tire of hearing it.”
He settled beside her, kissing her again before snuffing out the lamp and joining her between the sheets. The servants would have nothing to speculate about in the morning, for they were about to do what couples in love had done on their wedding nights since the beginning of time.
*
Later, after the second time, they lay tangled together in the sheets.
Sophia’s head rested on Henry’s chest, her hair spilling across his shoulder. He wrapped his arm around her waist, holding her close. Her heart beat against his ribs, gradually slowing to match his own.
“It was not a lie. The second time was not entirely unpleasant,” she said, laughing softly.
“I believe it was more than pleasant. At least for me.” He pressed a kiss to the top of her head.
“It was.”
“I will spend the rest of my life giving you pleasure, if I can,” Henry said.
She propped herself up on one elbow to look at him, her hair falling like a curtain around them. “I accept.”
He pulled her down for a kiss, sweet and slow. “It is still hard to believe you’re my wife. You have made me so very happy.”
“And you are my husband.” She settled back against his chest with a contented sigh. “I never imagined I could feel this way. The years have been lonely. Even with how I love Amelia, I have longed for a man. One who would love me just as I am.”
He stroked her hair, marveling at the silky texture between his fingers. “I’m here now. You will no longer be lonely. In truth, you may grow tired of my constant pursuit.”
“I do not believe I will, Lord Montrose.” She yawned, snuggling closer to him.
“Sleep now, my love.”
“Will we have time to do it again in the morning?” Sophia asked, sounding sleepy. “Before Davies comes?”
“He will know to leave us be on the first day of our marriage.”
“Oh, that is good news.”
She made a small, contented sound and burrowed closer. Within moments, she was asleep. Henry lay awake a while longer, holding his wife, listening to her breathe, thankful for this unexpected love, until finally he too drifted to sleep.