He felt her hand stroke over his back and downward, his eyes growing heavy.
“We had our wedding night in the evening.” She giggled.
Val glanced up at her. “You don’t mind, do you?”
“Not at all,” she said with a smile in her voice. “I don’t know why I’d always imagined relations would be in the dead of night, long after everyone in the world was fast asleep. I suppose it can be done during the daylight as well? Fascinating!”
He smiled sleepily at her amazement. Wait until he showed her relations could be had in any room of the house—or out of doors, even!
“What are you laughing at?” she asked suspiciously. “Are you laughing at me? I was a perfect innocent, wasn’t I? It’s quite lowering, really.”
He pushed up so he could see her better. “I’m definitely not laughing at you. You were perfect.” He punctuated his words with a kiss. “I couldn’t have asked for a sweeter wedding day. Thank you.”
She blushed, and Val felt himself rising to the occasion again. His body, however, could wait, he thought as he shifted to lie at her side. They had all the time in the world, and she would be sore.
Moving to press her head onto his shoulder. “Thank you.” She kissed his chin. “I know this wasn’t what either of us was looking for, but I will try to be a good wife to you.”
His heart swelled with affection at her words, though he had to resist correcting her. In truth, this was exactly what he’d been looking for. If he hadn’t already been half in love with her, that artless confession would have done it. Then she yawned, utterly adorable, and he feared he’d fallen even further.
“Come,” he said, pulling the bedclothes up over them, “let’s get a bit of rest before supper.”
But even before he’d finished his words, she had closed her eyes and curled up against him.
Suddenly exhausted himself, Val wrapped an arm around her and slept.
* * *
The next morning, after several reminders from Caro that her maid should send word immediately if Ludwig needed her for any reason, the newlyweds set out to the train station and boarded a private car for their trip to Brighton.
“You know he’ll be fine.” Val patted her hand as they sat together near the window. “My household hasn’t lost a cat yet.”
“You must think me a ninny,” she said ruefully. Showing Val just how much she doted on Ludwig left her feeling vulnerable. Then again, the cat’s friendship had been a balm to her ever since she’d found him, a scrawny kitten, scrounging in the mews behind her parents’ Belgrave Square mansion not long after she’d ended their first engagement.
“I don’t think you a ninny at all,” he assured her. “There are any number of peers of the realm who treat their hunting dogs better than their own children. At least you aren’t pampering Ludwig in the hopes he’ll help you kill other defenseless animals.”
“I doubt he could bestir himself to do any sort of work.” Caro laughed. “He’s very much a gentleman of leisure.”
That Val held such views wasn’t a surprise, given that his brother had died while taking a risky jump on a hunt. Fox hunting, and indeed, any number of sports favored by the aristocracy, had always struck her as particularly barbaric. In yet another way, she saw Val was out of step with his peers.
He was a good man. And the more she came to know him—not just the face he showed the rest of the world—the more she was realizing he was worthy of her trust. They’d lingered in bed that morning for as long as possible before the train departure time had forced them to rise and dress for the journey.
Caroline had known Val would be an attentive lover. He approached everything with a certain degree of single-minded focus, and it stood to reason that in this he would be no different. But she’d found herself undone by the tenderness with which he’d brought her to completion again and again after that first admittedly rushed coupling. She’d almost felt as if he’d been saving all his passion for her over the years they’d been apart.
She acknowledged now that the attempts she’d made to put distance between them—feeble though they had been—had failed miserably when faced with the intimacy of the marriage bed. She’d had no idea just how difficult it would be to keep herself emotionally removed from him when he was making love to her. Hiding herself from him was impossible while they were as close as two people could be. In those moments, their disparate upbringings and past conflicts had seemed unimportant.
Loving him would be so easy. She just had to let herself fall.
But soon enough she had been reminded that the intimacy was an illusion. From the deference of the servants to the Wrackham crest on the door of their carriage, there were countless reminders that in marrying her, Val had lifted her out of the middle class, into which she’d been born, and into the aristocracy.
Only, she was no longer caught up in her hurt and betrayal over how Val and his family had treated her. He’d done so much to prove to her that he was no longer the same man who had stood by while his brother insulted her. His ultimatum to his father and constant, calm reassurances of his loyalty to her had gone a long way to earning her trust again.
All these thoughts assailed her as she sat beside him in the sumptuously furnished private train carriage.
“Penny for your thoughts?” said the man in question. “You can nap if you like. We’ve got a bit longer before our arrival.”
“You needn’t look so smug.” Caro mock scowled at him. “Especially considering you’re the reason for my fatigue.”
“I didn’t want to say anything.” Val shrugged modestly. “I don’t like to boast.”
She surveyed him with a raised brow. “Ah, yes. Your prodigious skills in the bedroom are second only to your legendary modesty.”
“I’m so pleased you noticed.” He reached down to take her hand—palm to palm, fingers entwined—in his. “I do believe I surpassed myself last night.”
“I dare not pay you another compliment”—Caro’s smile belied her mournful tone—“lest we are crushed under the weight of your conceit.”
She felt strangely proud at his shout of laughter.
They sat in companionable silence before the need to be busy prompted her to open the small bag she’d kept beside her for the journey. She extracted a small notebook and pencil.
“We can use this time to prepare for the visit to the Hen and Hound.” She smoothed the blank page before her.
“Unlike your cat, you, my dear, are always working,” Val said with affection. “I don’t suppose you have the rest of the letters between Miss Warrington and Mary Killeen?”
Wordlessly, she plucked the bundle of letters from the bag and handed them to him.
“Excellent.” He opened and set about arranging them—chronologically, she saw, looking over.
He scanned the first one. “I hadn’t had a chance to read these since Eversham and I found them. It appears that Miss Killeen was a servant in the Reverend and Mrs. Warrington’s household. But she seems reluctant to speak of the matter.” He shuffled through the papers. “It took five letters for her to divulge that Miss Warrington was retrieved from the Hen and Hound.”