“Arthur,” I admonish, even as my cheeks heat. “Please don’t make me feel so when I must stand in front of everyone we’ve ever known and pretend as if my newlywed husband doesn’t already know precisely what’s under my skirts.”
His eyes dance, his handsome face the picture of devotion and joy. Plus no small amount of mischief.
I would capture it for all of eternity if I could.
Arthur’s voice is gentle as he opens the door, his hand holding mine. “Come, my dear. Let us receive our guests so that we may be alone once more.”
I surely won’t argue against that.
Arthur and I find a place to stand in the drawing room, and for the next many hours, we accept well wishes, congratulations on our union being given to Arthur only. To speak the words to me would be considered rude, as a bride is meant to be a prize. My mother looks proud to have a daughter married into such a respected, highborn family, whereas my father wears a small smile I suspect is equal parts pride for having found me such a good match and happiness at knowing my marriage is one I so heartily approve of.
It will be strange not to come back to this house except to visit. My home will be with Arthur now. I will live in his manor with his staff and a bed we call our own. I’ve neverhad that: the chance to simply sleep by this man’s side. To love him openly, instead of under the watchful eye of others. There will be no more sneaking around simply because we couldn’t wait to see one another again. No more trysts in the most uncomfortable of locations.
This man is tied to me. For the rest of our lives. He is my husband, and I… I am his wife.
Arthur catches my eye, a tiny smile on his face as he mouths, “Breathe.”
The reminder is welcome. I pull in a breath as Arthur’s hand discreetly smooths down my spine. It’s a quick and subtle caress, but my tension abates nonetheless, and I return my focus to talk of the university where both Arthur and my father teach.
After breakfast is served, of which I barely eat any courtesy of my corset not allowing for such, my mother collects me from Arthur’s side under the guise of helping me to freshen up before we’re to travel. She leads me to the bath upstairs, which has a large, standing tub, and then closes the door.
I’ve barely sat on the toilet, my mother helping to hold my skirts out of the way, when she says, “Are you aware of what’s expected of you tonight, Charlotte?”
My pulse skitters before I force a calming breath through my body. “Yes, Mother.”
“You’re to be at the disposal of your husband. Whenever he pleases. It is not your place to express disapproval at any time. Do you understand?”
“Yes,” I say quietly.
“We have our duties,” she continues, dropping my skirts as I stand. “It’s best to remember that. Your husband will not appreciate your…flights of fancy. You’re a wed woman now, and you’ll need to behave as such.”
I keep my eyes on the sink basin as I wash my hands, the urge to correct my mother that Arthur is different, that he loves me for me, bit back like so many other words I don’t dare speak aloud. My mother wouldn’t understand. No one would.
“Charlotte,” she says, voice firm. “Did you hear me?”
“Yes, Mother,” I respond, my eyes catching my reflection in the mirror. Fair skin. Pink cheeks. Chestnut hair pulled up in curls and blue eyes that hold my own for only a second before skittering away. I turn for the door, swallowing heavily. “I heard you.”
I seek out Arthur as soon as we return to the drawing room. As if sensing my silent plea for rescue, his eyes find mine and he weaves his way through the crowd.
Upon reaching me, he loops his arm with mine. “Are you refreshed?”
“Quite,” I say, glad my mother seems to have missed his saucy tone based on her pleasant smile.
“Then we can be off.”
Our guests see us out the door, throwing rice as we approach the waiting buggy. Arthur once again helps me to board, and I catch my father’s eyes as I take my seat. He inclines his head, an almost wistful smile on his face that reminds me of years past. Of sitting with him in his study, hearing tales of the stars and looking through his telescope before he deemed me too old for such things. A lady, officially.
I offer a scant smile in return, and Arthur takes his seat beside me. As the buggy brings us away from the home I grew up in, I say a quiet farewell to Charlotte Valentine.
I wait until we’re a good ways away to give Arthur’s hand a squeeze. “Will you tell me now where we are spending our newlywed solitude?”
His lips twist, a teasing smirk. “Home.”
I suck in a gasp, and Arthur goes on.
“Two full weeks hidden away where not a soul will think to look for us.”
“Oh, Arthur.”
