“No?” His lips curved. “I thought you might want a sample of what I have planned for you to-morrow.”
“This will kill me.” She lay down on the bed, pulling him on top of her. “Someday I shall learn how to drive you to distraction.”
“You already do.”
Vivian held him tightly as he kissed her again. Wrapping her legs around his slim waist, she urged him to join with her. Before long, she was shuddering with completion, and Rupert plunged more deeply than he ever had before, wringing the most out of her pleasure before collapsing off to her side. For a few minutes, he cuddled her in his arms as their breathing slowed.
“Vivian, how did you know about the Hill Street house?”
She rolled over, lying half on his chest. “I had asked for a list of estates, and it had mistakenly been added.”
“I find that extremely odd. Who were the property agents?”
“Jones.”
“My love. I have a feeling”—his chest rumbled with laughter—“your cousin has been conspiring to help us.”
“I think you may be right. I found it strange that she would put me in a separate wing.”
“And when you didn’t oblige her by taking advantage of it, the house appeared.”
“How . . . how devious of her. Although, I don’t understand why she did it.”
Rupert covered her lips with his, kissing her sweetly. “She reminds me of my grandmother. They were raised in an earthier time. Yet I think she knew you needed to find a gentleman to love you.”
CHAPTER THIRTY
Asoft tapping at the door woke Vivian. Rupert’s arms were around her and she was curled up next to him.
“My lady?” Punt said softly as she opened the door. “I must get you ready.”
Rupert kissed Vivian. “I’ll send her out in a moment.” As Punt withdrew, he threw the covers off them. “My love, you need to dress for our wedding.”
She went to grab the sheets back, but couldn’t find them. “What time is it?”
“Almost six.”
Vivian sat up, rubbing her eyes. “Two hours.”
Getting up from his side of the bed, Rupert came around and pulled her up. “Less than that. You’ll soon be mine forever.”
“And you’ll be mine.” Vivian wrapped her arms around him, seeking his warmth. “I’d better go.”
She broke her fast while the tub was being readied. Punt insisted on washing Vivian’s hair, which had to then be dried. She’d never be ready in time. It was not until shortly before eight that she was finally at the dressing table having her hair dressed.
“I’ve never known you to fidget like this,” Punt scolded. “But I suppose all brides get a case of the nerves.”
Vivian hadn’t been at all anxious about her first wedding. She had been too innocent to know better. Yet even now, her unease was not about marrying Rupert but that something or someone would stop her from doing so. “I’ll try to be still.”
Punt slipped light blue, apatite-tipped pins into her hair.
“Where did those come from?”
“Miss Silvia.”
Vivian should have known. “New and blue, or borrowed?”
“New. Her ladyship sent a comb that’s old and borrowed.” Punt stepped back. “You’ll do.”
