ability to talk, as well. In fact, the atmosphere reminded her very much of the time they’d striven in vain to make some sort of conversation over the supper table at the Crimmers’. Except that now it was charged with sexual awareness.
His as well as hers, she would stake her life on it.
He might be frowning as he spooned a helping of fricassee on to her plate, but it wasn’t the frown of an angry man. She’d spent years studying her father, learning his moods in the faint hope she could avoid the worst of them. And that frown wasn’t one of displeasure.
If anything, she would say he felt awkward. Though that was absurd! He’d wandered around earlier, ordering the waiters about as though it meant nothing....
But now they were alone.
And he’d readily admitted, that night at the Crimmers’, that he didn’t know how to converse freely with ladies.
Particularly not to ones he’d just married, apparently.
Perhaps it wasn’t so surprising he’d got friends to help him compile a list when he’d decided he had to get married.
Perhaps she’d overreacted when she’d found and read it. He hadn’t intended her to know he’d resorted to such lengths, after all.
And hadn’t she already decided that she ought not to dwell on how this marriage had come about? But to just make the most of what they had?
And when it came right down to it, wouldn’t she rather be married to him, with all his faults, than a glib-tongued man whose charm marked him down as a seasoned womaniser?
So she met his eye and gave him a tentative smile.
He smiled back, his shoulders dropping a good inch as some of his tension melted away.
I did that. I put him at ease.
Her aunt Pargetter had hinted that if their marriage was to be a happy one, it would be up to her. She hadn’t seen how that could possibly be true, but already, today, she’d made a start. She could have flung the list at him when he returned from the lawyers and demanded an explanation, and an apology. She wouldn’t have received one. Instead of making such wondrous love together, they would have had a fight. They wouldn’t be sitting here, remembering how good it had been, and wondering when they could do it again, either. They would be at daggers drawn.
Not that she would ever let him treat her with such disrespect in future. She was not a mouse. And she had no intention of letting him turn her into one. The thought she might ever end up like her mother, too scared to draw a breath without the permission of her tyrannical husband, had almost made her cry off altogether.
Except that she’d seen Lord Havelock was nothing like her father. And they weren’t eloping, in the face of opposition from both their families. They’d come together for very practical reasons.
Not that she felt very practical about him at this moment. Her mind was a whirling jumble of emotions and desire and, above all, hope.
All of a sudden, Lord Havelock broke into her musings by uttering an oath and throwing the serving spoon back into the dish with a clatter.
‘I should have taken you out to the theatre, or something, shouldn’t I? Not kept you cooped up indoors all evening, with only me for company.’
And that was the nub of the matter. He wasn’t an unkind man. Only a touch thoughtless.
And apparently willing to learn to do better.
‘It was just,’ he said, seizing her hand across the table, his face screwed up with contrition, ‘that I’d planned on getting an early night.’
When she flushed, and dropped her head to gaze at her plate, she heard him chuckle.
‘Not because of that. Well, not only that. You see...’ he gave her hand a slight squeeze ‘...we need to get on the road as early as we can, with the days being so short. I don’t want you to have to put up at any of the inns on our way. And if we make an early enough start, providing we don’t encounter any problems, we should be able to make it in one stage.’
‘Yes, I see. Well...um...’ Her heart was pounding so hard she was amazed he couldn’t hear it.
‘I...I don’t mind having an early night,’ she finally managed to confess, shooting him a coy look from under her eyelashes.
‘Well, yes, but that was before my patience ran out and I swept you off to bed the minute I got back from the lawyers. And...’ He cleared his throat. ‘It probably isn’t such a good idea to attempt... I mean...’ He coughed. ‘You are probably a bit... That is, I’ve heard...’ he flushed ‘...that the first time can leave a lady feeling a bit, um, sore.’
‘I don’t feel sore.’ What she did feel, had started to feel from the moment he’d hinted he wanted to take her again, was an ache. An ache that she knew only he could assuage. ‘You were so careful with me that I...’
‘I will be careful again,’ he vowed, cutting her hesitant response off so swiftly, and with such fervour, that she could tell he wanted her as much as she wanted him.
It was the greatest compliment he could have paid her.
Holding both her hands in his, he looked straight into her eyes.
‘That is, if you want to... I mean, I don’t expect you to...only hope that you...’
He pulled himself up straight, giving his head a little shake, then laughing ruefully.
‘Here’s the thing. Lady Havelock, I would like to invite you to come to my room now, for an evening of...exploration, let’s call it that. I’d like to find out what gives you pleasure. So if, at any time, anything I do causes you discomfort, you have only to tell me, and I will stop. And move on until we find something that you do enjoy. Will you...will you come with me?’
He wanted to spend the evening discovering what gave her pleasure?
How could she possibly refuse?
For one thing, he was only inviting her to do exactly what she’d wanted from the moment she’d woken up, naked, to find him standing over her.
For another, he’d warned her that this stage of their married life might not last long. One of them might take the other in dislike and then all this ardour would cool.
But most of all, only an idiot wouldn’t make the most of having a man like Lord Havelock take her to bed.
And she most certainly wasn’t an idiot.
* * *
It was still dark when the porter came next morning with hot water for her husband to wash. She slid as far beneath the blankets as she could, until he’d gone, then flung back the covers with grim determination and sashayed across the room to pick up her robe, which was lying in a scarlet puddle by the door.
‘I will go to my own room to wash and dress,’ she said as she plunged her arms into the sleeves and fumbled for the sash. It was all very well, she’d discovered, attempting to flout his hope she would behave modestly, but she really didn’t have the stomach for it.
