He handed it to her, then sat in the chair beside her bed and stretched his long muscular legs out in front of him.
She took a swallow, trying desperately not to clutch the wineglass so hard that it might snap.
“I don’t mean to embarrass you, my lady, but I must ask you one question before we lie together.”
“Yes?”
“You’ll excuse me, but I must ask if you are aware of what goes on between a husband and wife.”
Nella felt her cheeks blaze. She thought she might die of embarrassment.
He spoke to cover her unease.
“My aunt, the dowager Countess of Newbury, suggested I ask you. She said because your mother died several years ago, it was possible your father was uncomfortable bringing up the subject of our wedding night.”
Nella took a large swallow of her wine then choked on it.
“Did your father speak to you?” he repeated when she’d recovered.
“Yes. We had a brief talk,” she whispered.
“May I ask what he said?”
Nella’s cheeks burned even hotter. “He said that you…have had much experience in…what goes on between a man and a woman, so I should just…um… do what you…tell me to do.”
“Bloody hell,” he whispered, then took several swallows from his tumbler.
“Was that not what you wished him to say?”
The clearly annoyed earl rose to his feet, staggered, then took several unsteady steps until he reached the curtained window.
“Was there more he should have told me?”
“A great deal more.”
“I see.”
Nella thought she might die of embarrassment. “Could we just do this without you explaining what it is you expect me to do?”
Her husband took another swallow. “Yes, that might be for the best.”
He removed his shoes and stockings, then stood and removed his jacket, waistcoat, and cravat.
Nella gasped and turned her head to look away from him. “Are you going to get completely undressed, my lord?”
“Yes, wife. I am.”
“Am I to undress, too?”
“Yes, wife, you are.”
“Oh.”
“Unless you would like me to undress you?”
“No! I will do it, but could we please put out the candles? Can you do this in the dark?”
“Yes, I can.”
“Oh, good,” she breathed, then watched until he’d extinguished all the candles. “And the draperies, my lord. Could you close them, please?”
He walked to the window and pulled the drapery and the room was cloaked in welcome darkness.
With trembling hands, Nella removed her gown, then lay deathly still. She heard her husband remove the rest of his clothing, then pull the covers back. He sat on the edge of the bed and the mattress sank in the middle, rolling her close to him. With a gentle touch, he wrapped his arm around her and pulled her next to him. The feel of a man’s hands on her naked body was something she’d never pondered. Strangely, it seemed to push her nervous modesty into the shadows and replace it with timid curiosity. She lightly laid her hand on his arm that was now resting beneath her breasts.
“I will try not to hurt you, wife. It’s my wish to bring you only pleasure.”
“Oh,” Nella whispered.
His hand moved and she sucked in a startled breath. He drew his fingers slowly across places she’d not been touched before. His hands moved from one tender point of pleasure to another.
Nella lay still and let him do as her father said she must, startled to discover that the experience wasn’t something she would dread repeating. In time, she thought she might even come to anticipate it.
And maybe, in time, her husband might not be so repulsed by her that he could endure to kiss her.
And maybe, in time, her husband would not have to be completely sotted before he could bear to make love to her.
Chapter 5
Nella woke the next morning to find herself alone in her bed, with a place deep inside her feeling alive like it had never been before.
She rose and slipped on her robe before her maid Theresa came into the room and found her without her nightgown on. She blushed, thinking of the things she’d allowed her husband to do.
Theresa came in a short while later and helped her dress, then combed her hair. When she was presentable, she went downstairs.
With every step she took, she wasn’t sure how she’d have the courage to face him. She told herself that thousands of women before her had done the very same things she and her husband had done on their wedding night, but that didn’t make what she’d done any less embarrassing.
Nella thought she was ready to face him, but she walked into the breakfast room to find him sitting at the breakfast table with the food on his plate half eaten.
He rose.
“Good morning, my lady.”
“Good morning, my lord.”
“How are you feeling?”
How sweet of him to ask. But was that a worried look on his face? For a moment, modesty made her consider how to answer, but her feeling of bliss swept it away. There was only one answer to his question.
“Content, my lord.” One corner of her mouth quirked up in a way that felt scandalously sassy.
He cleared his throat, clearly not having expected her candor.
“James. You promised to call me James.”
“Very well, James.” Why in the world did her voice sound so husky? Was she coming down with something?
Before the thought fully materialized, her husband smiled and her heart flipped in her breast.
“Would you like me to fill a plate for you or would you like to get your own food?”
“No need…James. Eat your food before it gets cold.”
He sat and continued to eat as she moved to the sideboard. Once her plate was prepared, she sat down beside him and poured herself a cup of coffee. She added sugar and cream and drank the cup before it cooled. Then, she ate the sweetened ham and coddled eggs she’d taken.
“What are your plans for today?” she asked, not wanting to sit in silence.
“I’ve asked Wittal, my steward, to meet with me and fill me in on everything that’s happened while I’ve been in London. How are you thinking of spending the day, Petronella?”
A ripple of pleasure fluttered up her spine. He’s spoken her name only a handful of times so far, very formally, with little warmth. But today the way it spilled from his lips was so natural that she was quite taken aback, as if he’d just paid her a high compliment.
“I thought I would ask Mrs. Pendleton to show me the house, if that’s agreeable with you.”
“Of course,” he answered. “This is your house now, Petronella.”
“Please,” she interrupted. “I prefer Nella.”
It was positively ridiculous to interrupt him, but the way he spoke her name Petronella as if she were some sort of Greek goddess stirred her in ways that induced a constant raging blush.
“Nella, then.”
Drat. Entreating him to use her shortened name proved no less stimulating.
“If there’s anything you see that needs to be done, or anything you’d like to change, feel free to change it.”
She dabbed at the corners of her mouth with the linen cloth.