When Harry gently took her arm and led her toward the staircase, she felt a wave of anxiety wash over her. She knew the implications of the night ahead, the duties that she’d have to perform now that she was a wife. Her heart pounded as they ascended the stairs, her mind racing with questions she was too afraid to ask.
As they reached her chambers, Harry opened the door and guided her inside. The room was beautiful, more luxurious than anything Arabella had ever imagined. But the opulence did little to calm her nerves. Instead, it only heightened her awareness of the situation.
“This is your room,” Harry murmured softly, his voice kind but laced with uncertainty. “I hope it is to your liking.”
Arabella glanced around, taking in the canopied bed, the warm glow of the fire, and the tasteful decorations that made the room feel both elegant and intimate. Yet, the sight of the bed, large and imposing, only made her more anxious. She swallowed, trying to find her voice as she turned back to him.
“It’s lovely,” she managed to say, though her mind raced.
Was she to sleep here alone? Or would he join her? After all, even if their marriage was one of convenience, he’d want an heir one day, would he not?
Harry nodded, seeming to sense her unease. “I will leave you to settle in,” he offered gently, his hand lingering on the doorframe. “If you need anything, Mabel will be nearby.”
He began to turn away, but Arabella’s voice stopped him. “Harry,” she called out, a tremor of confusion and fear in her voice. “Aren’t we… That is, aren’t we supposed to sleep together now that we’re married?”
Her words hung in the air, the weight of them palpable. Harry turned back to her, his expression softening as he saw the worry on her face. He stepped closer, taking her hands in his, his touch warm and reassuring.
“Arabella,” he began, his voice gentle but firm. “There is no need to rush into anything. Tonight, or any night. This is all very new, and I want you to feel comfortable. We will share our lives, but that does not mean we must do everything all at once.”
She looked up at him, her eyes wide with a mix of relief and uncertainty. “But… we’re husband and wife,” she whispered, as if she needed to remind herself of the fact.
“And we have the rest of our lives to explore what that means,” Harry replied, his thumb lightly stroking her knuckles. “Tonight, I want you to rest, to get accustomed to your new surroundings.”
“Very well,” she agreed, before letting out a yawn that made him chuckle.
“I can see that you need your rest. As do I. Perhaps we should take our dinners in our respective chambers tonight and then start afresh tomorrow.”
He didn’t want to eat with her?
“But I thought…”
“Tomorrow, I will show you around the estate, and you will get accustomed to everything,” he declared with finality.
He smiled gently, releasing her hands but lingering a moment longer, his eyes searching hers. “Goodnight, Arabella,” he said softly, his voice carrying a promise of patience and understanding.
“Goodnight, Harry,” she replied, her voice steadier now, though her heart was still fluttering.
He gave her one last reassuring smile before turning and leaving the room, closing the door softly behind him.
Arabella stood there for a moment, the silence of the room enveloping her. She was still anxious, still uncertain about what lay ahead, but a new sense of calm settled over her.
As she moved toward the bed, she realized that perhaps this new life might not be as overwhelming as she had feared.
CHAPTER 12
The following morning, Arabella found herself entirely disoriented. The chamber in which she had awakened was nothing like the one she had known for the last eighteen years.
The bed felt so large, as though it sought to swallow her whole when she moved. The mattress was soft beneath her back, and when she attempted to swing her legs over the bed, expecting them to land directly on a hardwood floor, she found herself dangling half a foot above the ground.
She blinked, looking around. But before she could properly situate herself, a knock sounded at the door, which swung open a moment later without her having called for the person to enter.
“Good morning, Your Grace,” a woman said.
Arabella blinked, racking her brain for the woman’s name before it came to her—Mabel, her new lady’s maid.
“Good morning, Mabel,” Arabella replied, attempting to slide off the bed, but her nightgown rode up, exposing part of her leg.
The older woman quickly shuffled forward, her head bobbing as she did so. “Do not trouble yourself, Your Grace. The bed is quite high. Here, let me fetch the steps.”
