Henry had spent a good hour roaming the grounds of Ashbourne House and found quite a few suitable spots to do his business. She’d played a few games with him to expend his energy as well. Hiding bits of chicken Cook had procured for her so Henry could find them and tossed his favorite toy, a stuffed rabbit she’d sewn for him, so he could chase it about the lawn. When he’d returned to her, tongue lolling out of his mouth, she knew he’d relax comfortably in the strange environs of their new home.
And strange it was turning out to be.
She was glad the servants had taken to her immediately for she feared she’d be wandering the halls of Ashbourne House like a lost puppy. Ashbourne could not have been quicker to dismiss her after the guests and her family had departed, and she could not blame him.
She wouldn’t spend another thought on the subject for it needn’t matter. She knew her place, and she knew what it would get her.
Tonight.
Even tonight she might conceive a baby, and it would have all been worth it. For surely, Ashbourne planned to consummate their marriage as was appropriate. Even he could not refute what was necessary in a marriage even if he could not stand to be in her presence.
Her chest tightened at the thought, and a headache pushed at the backs of her eyes. She pressed a hand to her forehead, refusing to allow tears she knew would do no good. She shouldn’t upset herself over his treatment of her for it was to be expected. Better to move on to practical matters.
She tentatively opened the doors to an expansive armoire to find her things had already been aired, pressed, and hung up. There were neat drawers for her stockings and tidy shelves for her unmentionables. Her hairbrush and pins had been deposited on her dressing table and her shoes carefully laid out. She was only to stay at Ashbourne House for a few days, and she preferred this less formal arrangement. Had she a dressing room and such, she wouldn’t have known what to do with it all.
She eyed Henry. “I think this will suit. How do you feel about it?”
He’d already fallen asleep, and hearing his soft snores bolstered her courage.
Her maid, Lucy, arrived within minutes to help her off with her gown. Eliza dismissed her for the evening thereafter, wishing to be alone for a few moments before Ashbourne arrived. He’d advised her to call him by his given name several times, but for some reason, the intimacy of it stopped the word from pouring from her lips.
With the exception of her brother, she’d never called any gentleman by his given name and had never thought to be so close to someone so as to use his given name. It felt unnatural, and more, it frightened her. She had set an expectation that the familiar relations of marriage would forever be unknown to her, and to suddenly be wed was cause for consternation.
More, she realized she would need to guard her heart from disappointment. There’s was not a love match, and she thought it worse that she should be alone in a marriage rather than just alone. At least when she was just alone, there was no one who held the power to hurt her so acutely, and Ashbourne most certainly held such power.
When he’d stood in the foyer and said nothing to her suggestion of seeing the gardens. When he’d been unable to look at her after their one shared kiss.
But then he’d had bits of ham at the ready for Henry and now this sofa. He continued to confuse and perplex her, and it did nothing to soothe her nerves.
She brushed out her hair and plaited it but once it was finished regretted it. Perhaps she should wear her hair loose. Would he care for it loose? It was so frizzy and wild, so unlike the beautiful golden coils she saw on the debutantes this season. He’d likely find it repulsive if she wore it down. She tied it off and stood, no longer wishing to see her reflection.
The bedchamber was spacious, and she drifted over to the draped windows to peer outside. Night had fallen with earnest, and she could just make out the shape of a passing carriage below. They weren’t overly far from Ravenwood, and she wondered what her sisters were doing. She would have been already abed at this hour, Henry asleep on his sofa, snoring while she forced her eyes to remain open to read just a little longer.
Her gaze drifted to the table beside the opulent bed to find it bare. Her books were in her carpetbag, which she’d brought herself and asked Lucy not to unpack. She’d placed her most recent watercolors within it and didn’t want them misplaced.
While she studied the empty table though, her eyes found the candle her maid had left burning there. She shifted her attention to the rest of the room. Lanterns were lit, scattered here and there, and the room was lit as though it were daylight.
She peered down at herself, at the snowy folds of her plain white gown and how gloriously it displayed her lack of womanly attributes. She looked about as appealing as a fence post. One by one she extinguished the lanterns about the room so only the candle beside her bed remained lit. That would do nicely. He couldn’t find her repulsive if he couldn’t see her.
The connecting door drew her attention, but all remained silent on the other side. She wondered where he was or what he was about, but she pushed the thoughts aside quickly. It needn’t matter. What Ashbourne did was of little concern to her. She was only here as his wife, and she would do her duty in that regard. She wouldn’t plague him with any of her attentions.
Her feet grew cold in the night air, and she slipped between the covers of the bed, propping herself against the headrest. Was this where maidenly brides usually awaited their husbands? Was she to stand somewhere else perhaps? Would he startle Henry when he entered, and would he find the situation vexing enough to leave without so much as touching her?
She swallowed, hard.
She’d forgotten about the rest of it. She was so consumed with whether or not he would even show, her mind had let slip the very real fact that tonight the Duke of Ashbourne would touch her. Intimately. Knowingly.
She closed her eyes, shutting out the image of Ashbourne’s hands on her body. He would find every knobby joint, every flat surface. What would that be like to him? She wasn’t so naive as to believe he had been celibate as a bachelor, and she wasn’t so hopeful as to believe he would be faithful to her now. She understood exactly what she lacked, and she would never wish to deny him the carnal pleasure of a truly enticing woman.
A knock sounded on the connecting door so squarely and sharp it might as well have been a pistol firing at dawn. She straightened, coming away from the pillows with a gasp of air.
“Come in.” Her voice hardly shook, and she was glad of at least that.
The door opened slowly, and she squared her shoulders. Belatedly, she thought to take off her spectacles, and before he could get the door fully open, she pulled them from her face. The connecting door became slightly blurred, but she could still make out the shape of him entering.
He wore a dressing gown, but even from this distance without her lenses, she could see he still wore trousers and a shirt beneath it. Her heart did an odd thing in her chest, and the familiar pain of longing blossomed. She had to stay focused. The point of all of this was to make her a mother, to give her a child to love and nurture.
“Good evening, mate,” Ashbourne said, and it was a moment for her to realize he spoke to Henry. He bent over the sofa where Henry had lifted his head. The dog sniffed, and she realized Ashbourne had brought a morsel with him. Rather clever of him. Henry accepted the bit and promptly returned his head to his pillow with a deep snore.