Alone now that Lucien had gone, Constantine moved out of the corner. Only he didn’t know where to go. He ought to rejoin his wife, but after their encounter, he didn’t think she wanted to see him. He needed to work on that. They should try to make an entirely fresh start, as if he were courting her again.
Had he ever courted her? Their union had been inevitable.
However, their happiness, or at least their satisfaction, was not. This must be a different kind of courtship, starting with seduction.
And given the state of their marriage, his lack of skill in seduction, and the uncertainty of his wife’s interest in being seduced, how the hell did he start with that?
Sabrina had wondered if Aldington would invite her to ride home with him from the rout, but he’d left at an early hour. After his departure, she and Evie had discussed his behavior, how he’d seemed irritated and generally discomfited by her appearance. Grinning, Evie had suggested he might be jealous. That seemed wholly impossible, but then Evie had pointed out that Sabrina had earned the attention of many people at the rout, including a good number of men, both married and unmarried.
Even now, as Sabrina pulled her favorite night rail over her head, she blushed. She had somewhat been the center of attention that evening, and she wasn’t sure how she felt about that.
That alone was a problem, for if she meant to become her sister-in-law’s sponsor, she would need to feel comfortable with being seen and heard. The prospect filled her with a thrilling dread.
Charity put away the last of Sabrina’s clothing. “Will there be anything else, my lady?”
“No, thank you. I’ll tidy my own hair.” She gave Charity a smile, and the maid departed.
Sitting at the dressing table, Sabrina brushed out the long waves. There were curls buried in the mass, strands that Charity had styled with an iron as part of her style for the rout. Sabrina looked in the mirror and saw herself but didn’t quite recognize the image.
The knock on the door nearly made her drop the brush. Sabrina’s pulse sped as she set the implement down and slowly rose. Glancing toward the bed, she didn’t have a dressing gown laid out. Because she’d told Charity it wasn’t necessary. Sabrina had planned on retiring immediately. She hadn’t expected a visitor.
Padding to the door on bare feet, she opened it to find, unsurprisingly, her husband. He wore a dark gray silk banyan over the black kerseymere pantaloons he’d worn to the rout. At least, she thought they were the same ones. Most of his clothing was black, gray, dark blue, or dark brown, and he presumably had multiples of everything.
How like her mind to fixate on such things when faced with an anxious situation. Such as her husband showing up at her door unexpectedly.
“Good evening.” She hoped she didn’t sound nervous. “Do you want to come in?”
“I thought I might.” His voice was tight, and his words lacked certainty. Perhaps he was nervous too.
Sabrina opened the door wider and stepped to the side to allow him entry. His gaze briefly dipped over her. He didn’t stare at her as when she’d worn the new pink dressing gown the other night.
When he moved into the room, she closed the door. He paused near the bed, pivoting toward her. “Did you enjoy yourself at the rout?”
“Yes. Did you? I noticed you left early.”
“I went to White’s.”
She noted he didn’t respond about whether he’d enjoyed himself. “I can understand wanting to find a haven after the crush of the rout. I am rather tired from it, I admit.”
“Should I go?”
She wanted to say yes, because she hadn’t prepared herself for this tonight. But that was silly. This was what she wanted, and she shouldn’t have to work up her courage on a nightly basis. “No, you should stay. That is, um, the purpose of my being in London.” Heat began to climb her throat, and she willed herself to remain calm.
“Shall we get to it then?” he asked tentatively. “We can go quickly as we’ve done before—just get through it.”
As if it were a transaction, which she supposed their entire marriage was. A gaping sadness threatened to grip her chest.
“Might we go a little more slowly?” Pausing, she forced herself to say the next part even though humiliation burned her cheeks. “I’d like to have an orgasm.”
His eyes widened for a second, and he turned his attention to the coals burning in the hearth. “Yes, that can certainly, ah, be accommodated. I apologize for not taking that into consideration before. I’d only meant to keep your distress to a minimum.”
He still didn’t look at her, and she couldn’t blame him. Everything about their marriage had been forced and awkward. It was a bloody business transaction. The question was whether they wanted it to remain that way.
The only definite answer she had at the moment was that she wanted a child. And she preferred to go about it in a more pleasurable way.
“I appreciate your concern,” she said softly. “I always have, even if I didn’t say so. I apologize for being so anxious. I have never known what to expect.”
He turned his gaze to hers, the green in his eyes vibrant in the candlelight. “Yet you now know about orgasms. This must be part of how you are trying to be different.”
Sabrina fidgeted with her night rail, her fingers twisting into the cotton. Willing herself to relax, she dropped her hands to her sides and steeled her spine. “You certainly didn’t tell me about them.”
The sharp intake of his breath was satisfying. “No, I did not. As I said, I focused on trying to ease your discomfort. Perhaps I should have done things differently. I do wonder how you have become…educated.”
The flame she’d felt when she’d said the word orgasm returned even hotter to her face. “I have a book. Should I get onto the bed?” That’s what they’d done before.
“Since we want this to be different, no. I’m going to remove my banyan. Is that all right?”
Nodding, Sabrina held her breath. He untied the sash and shrugged out of the garment before draping it at the end of the bed.
There was a candle on the bedside table and the hearth was behind him. A brighter lantern sat on her dressing table. It was the most light in which she’d seen him without clothing. Typically, when they were at Hampton Lodge, he joined her in the bed, with the drapes drawn, while a single candle burned elsewhere in the chamber.
His chest was pale and muscled with a patch of brown hair between his nipples that narrowed as it trailed down his abdomen. She couldn’t help but stare at him, enthralled with his form, as she wondered what it would feel like to run her fingertips across his nipples as she’d done to herself. Did that feel as good to a man as it did to her?
He inched toward her, and she instantly tensed, hoping he didn’t notice. “May I remove your night rail?”
“I’ll do it.” Closing her eyes, she whipped it over her head before she lost all semblance of courage.
When she finally opened her eyes, it was to see him staring at her, his eyes slitted. She couldn’t read his expression. Perhaps she should have let him take the garment off as he’d requested.
The urge to cover herself with her hands was great, but she summoned the steel that Evie had said she possessed to stand straight. She might quiver, but she would not bend.