“What was that about?” he asked.
“The staff is still about. I didn’t want them to see us.”
“Why not?”
She opened her mouth then looked up at the ceiling. “I don’t know,” she finally admitted. “I suppose I didn’t want them to know you were in my chamber. I didn’t want them to know we were”—she cleared her throat—“doing what married couples do.”
Rory crossed his arms over his chest. Genevieve’s cheeks had gone pink, and he liked the color on her. “It won’t matter if they see me entering your chamber or not—they will assume we are consummating the marriage tonight. Everyone will assume that.”
“Oh, Lord.” She put her hands to her cheeks. “I don’t know how I shall face them in the morning.”
“I thought you said you were not a maiden.”
“That certainly isn’t common knowledge! They will all give me knowing smiles tomorrow and snigger behind their hands. I would have done the same thing in their place, though I can be more circumspect.”
Rory had brought a bottle of wine with him when he came through the adjoining door, and now he went to fetch it and two glasses from her dressing table. “How would you have acted more circumspectly?” he asked, opening the bottle.
“I’d just look at the lady’s face and see if I could detect any changes.”
He held out a glass of the ruby liquid to her. “I think you had better have a glass of this. You look like you need it.”
“Thank you.” She took a long sip.
“I had thought we might toast, but don’t let me stop you.”
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I’m nervous. My legs have been wobbly all day, and I was just feeling stronger, and now you’re here and they’re trembling again.”
He sipped his wine, needing a moment to control his feelings. She feared him. She was shaking at the thought that he might touch her. “I’m certainly not about to force you to do anything,” he said. “If you’d rather, I’ll say goodnight now.”
He lifted the bottle—he would need it if he was to spend his wedding night alone—and started away.
“Wait!”
He paused, not daring to look back at her. “What is it?” he asked.
“I wouldn’t rather,” she said.
He risked a look over his shoulder. She was clutching the wine glass with both hands in front of her chest. “Pardon?”
“You said ‘if I’d rather you’d say goodnight now.’ I’d rather you stayed. Or I could go to your chamber, if you prefer.”
Heat began in his toes, traveled up his legs, and settled in his belly. His cock stirred at the prospect that it might be needed tonight after all. He held out a hand. “Let’s go, then.”
Even though he’d had Harriet’s chamber stripped and decorated anew after her death, he still felt her lingering there. Harriet had never come to his chamber. He couldn’t even remember her ever opening the door between them.
Genevieve put her hand in his, and he drew her through the adjoining door and into his bedchamber. She looked about with obvious appreciation. “I hadn’t expected this,” she said, gesturing toward the peacock-blue fabrics on the chairs and thebed. Shades of that blue could be found in the rug and the paper on the wall as well.
“I like bright colors,” he said, eyeing her hair. She did look lovely with the blue and gold in his room.
She smiled. “So do I. As a governess, the closest I ever came to wearing colors was the gown I wore for the wedding today. Staff are expected to blend into the background.”
“We’ll have to remedy that,” he said. He hadn’t released her hand, and she didn’t seem to mind. “I’d like to send for a modiste to outfit you and Frances.”
“Frances has certainly grown, and her dresses will be too short and tight in a few months. My wardrobe is good quality, and I don’t have need of anything.”
“Your wardrobe is fitting for a governess. You are my wife now, and you should dress as such.”
“I hadn’t thought of that.” She lifted her glass to her lips, but it was empty.
