Amanda Scott (4 page)

He was certainly a handsome man, she thought, regarding him closely for a few moments. More handsome, actually, in repose than when he was awake. He looked more boyish now, less guarded in his expression, more vulnerable. Odd to think of a man being vulnerable. Men had everything their own way, unless one knew how to use their absurd vanities to one’s own advantage.

Chalford stirred when they stopped for the change in Farningham and again in West Mailing, but although she dropped her reticule once, noisily, and opened and shut her window twice, he slept soundly through Larkfield and Ditton and came awake only when the chaise rattled over the stone bridge across the Medway. They were entering Maidstone, a town situated on a pleasant slope above the river and surrounded by beautiful gardens, fruit orchards, and vast, towering hop plantations.

Chalford sat upright, looking out his window before turning to smile at Adriana. “’Twas a rapid journey,” he said.

“You slept, sir, so of course it seemed rapid.”

His look was a steady one. “I thought you preferred to look at the scenery rather than to converse with me. If I’ve neglected you, I apologize.”

She shook her head, adding mendaciously, “There is no need. I enjoyed the scenery. Are we truly in Maidstone now?”

“Yes, and we stay at the Mitre in High Street. I thought you would prefer the privacy of an inn. I hope I was not wrong. There would be more amusement, perhaps, at Prospect Lodge.”

She grinned at him, in charity with him again at once, for though Sally Villiers was one of her dearest friends and she liked the viscount, too, she felt nothing but gratitude to Chalford for having refused their invitation to spend several days with them at their home near Tunbridge Wells.

“I daresay I shall miss neither the amusement nor the certainty of hearing Sally giggle every ten minutes,” she assured him. “Only think, sir, she will be a countess one day. Why, she is no more like Lady Jersey than buttermilk is like Scotch whiskey.” Wrinkling her nose, she added thoughtfully, “Not that one would wish her to be like her ladyship.”

“It is to be hoped, in any event, that Sally will be more discreet,” Chalford said dryly. “She is nearly as great a flirt as the countess was used to be in her youth, after all.”

“Oh, everyone flirts,” Adriana said casually, glancing out her window again when he did not immediately reply. “What is that great Gothic structure towering above us, sir?” she demanded suddenly as they passed beneath the walls of a stone palace that loomed above the cobbled street.

“The Archbishop’s Palace,” he told her. “Maidstone is the county town of Kent, and thus the archbishop thought it behooved him to have a residence here as well as in Canterbury. We are nearing the inn now, I believe. Are you hungry?”

Nodding, she realized she was famished, although it was only five o’clock and she was accustomed to dining much later in town. “I didn’t eat very much of Sophie’s feast, I’m afraid.”

His dark brows lifted. “I hope you have not been sitting there starving while I slept.”

“No, of course not. I am not so meek as that, sir.”

“You are very free with your sirs, Adriana. My name is Joshua, and my closest friends call me Josh. I hope you will number among them.”

She looked down into her lap, suddenly and unaccountably shy. “My friends call me Dree,” she said.

“I prefer Adriana.”

She looked up indignantly. “Well, perhaps I shall prefer to call you ‘sir’ then.”

“As you like,” he replied equably.

For no good reason that she could call to mind, Adriana suddenly experienced a nearly overpowering desire to box his ears. Fortunately, the chaise drew up in the innyard just then, and her attention was safely diverted. She was able, a few moments later, to accept Chalford’s assistance in alighting with her dignity unimpaired.

The Mitre was an elderly U-shaped inn, built of Kent rag stone, with ancient, massive gates of oak still hanging on their original hinges at the entrance to the yard. Opposite the stables, just past the snug coffee room, there were stairs of solid oak blocks leading up to the inn proper. Chalford had bespoken a private parlor and had sent a courier ahead to see all in readiness, so Adriana soon found herself seated at a white-linen-draped table before a cheerful fire, attended in style by a dignified footman and a beaming, rosy-cheeked maidservant.

“I daresay Miskin and your Nancy will be along shortly with the rest of our baggage,” Chalford said as he took his seat opposite her, signed to the footman to begin serving them, and asked the maidservant to draw the curtains. Smiling at Adriana, he added, “I know it is still light outside, but I prefer to dine by candlelight. My aunts keep country hours.”

“You said you had any number of aunts,” she replied. “I suppose they visit you often.”

“Two of them live at the castle.”

“Live there? But they were not at the wedding.”

“No, for Aunt Hetta fears the French invasion will come if she is not there to prevent it, and Aunt Adelaide believes that she must be home if I am not, to run things.” A frown fluttered across his brow as he tasted the wine then nodded permission for the footman to fill Adriana’s glass. “You may find it difficult at first to assert your authority, I’m afraid. Aunt Adelaide is accustomed to being mistress of the castle.”

“Well, she may continue to act so, with my goodwill,” said Adriana. “I spent ten thankless years after my mother’s death trying to play mistress of Wryde and to keep my sister out of the mischief she delights in without irritating my father or coming too often to cuffs with my brother. Wryde House is a rabbit warren of rooms, and I was far too young for the task, even with our housekeeper and dearest Nancy to assist me.”

“But surely, since your brother’s marriage—”

“Oh, to be sure, Alston has done much to bring the estate into order since he married Sophie and convinced Papa to turn over management to him, but though Sophie has no turn for household management, she issues orders right and left, so we were constantly at odds, even at the London house. I promise you, sir, I shan’t repine if your aunt wishes to continue to manage things for a time.”

He nodded, his expression enigmatic. At first she thought she had displeased him, but then he smiled at her and she decided she was wrong. The meal was excellent, and Miskin and Nancy arrived before they had done, their carriage having made nearly as good time as the chaise, due, Nancy told her mistress, to Miskin’s having insisted that the horses be sprung whenever the condition of the road would allow it.

“In a proper hurry he was,” she said when they were alone in Adriana’s bedchamber an hour later. “Not but what I wanted to get here in good time, too. ’Tis a lovely, cozy room, this, Miss Adrie, though the paneling ain’t so fine as that in the parlor. All them lovely carved shields.”

“Those are heraldic devices, Nancy. No doubt the coats of arms of famous guests at the inn, though I’m afraid I don’t know one from another.” She glanced about her in approval. A small fire crackled in the hooded fireplace, throwing a warm glow onto the carpeted hardwood floor, and candles burned in polished silver holders upon dark wood tables on either side of the wide, curtained bed. “I love velvet,” she said, stroking the cloth.

“Like a dark night sky, they look, same as them at the window,” Nancy observed. There was a knock at the door. “I ordered a bath, m’lady. That’ll be the lads with it now.”

Adriana nodded, moving to the window to be out of the way while the tub was dragged in and placed before the fire. Servants carrying buckets came next, and when the bath was ready, Nancy helped her remove her clothes, then stood ready with cloth and soap. “Will you do your hair?”

“Goodness, not tonight. It wouldn’t dry for an hour or more, and I wish to sleep.”

Nancy chuckled. “I doubt you’ll be let to sleep yet a while, Miss Adrie. His lordship be like to have other notions.”

Adriana, on the point of entering the tub, stiffened, then forced herself to relax. Chalford had been casual over their meal, and their conversation had been desultory. Indeed, they had behaved like long acquaintances, and she had been so comfortable that she had scarcely given a thought to the fact that this was her wedding night. Now the thought overwhelmed her, making it an effort to force her muscles to relax again, but she managed it and sank down into the warm water. Looking directly at her abigail, she said with casual aplomb, “I daresay his lordship will not wish to assert his rights in such a place as this inn. No doubt he will wait until we reach Thunderhill.”

Nancy’s eyes widened and she seemed about to speak, but when Adriana’s gaze caught hers and held it, she kept her tongue behind her teeth and busied herself with the soap, lathering her mistress, being careful not to get her hair wet. The tub was large and the soapsuds soon made white mountains atop the water. Adriana, feeling at ease again and playful, scooped up a handful and turned toward Nancy, her eyes alight, her intent clear.

“Now, Miss Adrie, none o’ your fooling about,” warned the maidservant, watching her with grim wariness.

Adriana leaned forward and blew just as a small door, hitherto unnoticed in the corner of the room, opened to reveal his lordship standing calmly upon the threshold.

“A provocative scene,” he said with a smile.

“Chalford, how dare you!” Adriana demanded, sinking back into the tub and noting with dismay that the soapsuds were collapsing all around her. She crossed her arms protectively.

“Dare?” the marquess said, raising his brows. “I am your husband, my dear.”

“And I am in my bath, sir. You promised me privacy.”

“So I did, though I didn’t really mean total privacy, you know. I’ll leave you now if you insist, but only for fifteen minutes. I trust you will then be prepared to receive me.”

She had said the first thing that entered her mind when she had seen him standing there. Though she knew perfectly well that he had meant privacy away from the knowing looks of their friends, and nothing more, one used what little one had. “Your bedchamber is next to this,” she pointed out, carefully calm. “I did not even know that that door connected the two.”

“The chamber yonder is naught, I fear, but a dressing room,” he said quietly.

“Then you must beg a cot or bespeak another bedchamber, for surely you will not wish to linger here after so tiring a day.”

His eyes twinkled. “I slept in the chaise, my dear.”

“Well, I did not.”

His gaze held hers. “Fifteen minutes, Adriana.”

When the door had shut behind him, Adriana looked at Nancy, only to discover that her handmaiden had turned away to fetch her a towel. “I daresay you wish to say you told me so,” she said tartly. “Well, I have no intention of—of—Oh, hand me that towel, Nancy, and fetch my robe.”

Her features carefully controlled, Nancy obeyed the order with alacrity, and moments later Adriana was wrapped in a forest-green velvet dressing gown, her feet snugly encased in matching mules. She sat down upon a stool and began taking pins from her hair. In the pier glass she could see damp tendrils curling about her face and neck. Leaning forward, she pinched color into her cheeks, wondering why she should look so pale after her warm bath. Nancy began to brush her hair.

“How much time has passed?” Adriana demanded.

“I do not know, m’lady. Perhaps I ought to leave you now.”

“No! That is, I prefer that you stay,” Adriana said with an unsuccessful attempt to sound dignified. Her heart was pounding, and despite the pinching, her cheeks looked pale again. Her gaze met Nancy’s in the mirror. The abigail shook her head. “Please, Nancy. I wish it.”

“He would only send me away, Miss Adrie. You needn’t fear him. He is a kind man.”

“I don’t fear him,” Adriana said indignantly. “How silly to think I might. ’Tis only that I am tired and wish to sleep.”

A tap on the corner door, followed immediately by the opening of that door, ended their discussion. Again Chalford stood upon the threshold. He had taken off his jacket, waistcoat, boots, and neckcloth, and seemed somehow even bigger in his shirt sleeves than he had looked before.

Adriana’s breath caught in her throat. Swallowing carefully, she said, “I have not yet donned my nightdress, sir.”

“You have no need for a nightdress,” he replied, signing to the abigail to leave them. A moment later Adriana was alone with her husband.

They looked at each other for a long moment before Chalford closed the door gently behind him and moved toward her. Adriana stiffened on her stool, her lips parted, her breath coming quickly, her breasts rising and falling beneath the soft green velvet of her robe. As he came closer, her right hand moved of its own accord to the deep vee of her neckline. She clutched the two halves of the robe closer together. When he touched her shoulder, she started nervously.

“Steady, sweetheart, I won’t hurt you.” The endearment surprised her, for he had never called her that before. His voice came from deep in his throat, sounding even lower than usual, and the sound of it set her nerves atingle. His touch sent rays of warmth radiating from her shoulder through the rest of her body, and when he moved his hand beneath her hair, grasping a handful and twining it around his fingers, the warmth changed to tiny shivers wherever his fingers touched her neck.

Drawing a long, steadying breath, she forced herself to look directly up at him. “Please, sir, you must see that I am not at all ready for this. I am very tired.”

“You’re not tired,” he said, smiling down at her in a way that made her look away again. “You are merely nervous, Adriana, as you were this afternoon in the chaise. I regretted the impulse that startled you then and did what I could to make you comfortable by sleeping, but there is nothing at all out of the way about being nervous at a time like this. Indeed, some would consider it unbecoming in a young bride to behave otherwise.” His hand moved again under her hair to stroke her neck.

Taking another, quicker breath, she said, “Very well, then, I am nervous. You are right. I have no experience with this sort of thing, Chalford, and we have been married only a few hours. Surely, you will not force me. You must allow me some time to grow accustomed both to marriage and to—to this.” She spread her hands and opened her eyes wide to look at him, certain that her vulnerability would stir him as argument had not. He was a gentle man, a kind man, a man who had always before seemed anxious to please her. Surely, he would leave her to sleep alone if she but managed the matter adroitly.