Nick gave an imperceptible shake of his head. “Is there a law against it?”
“No, but—well.”
Silvia’s lovely chin had turned mulish. He had no doubt she was prepared to argue canon law with the vicar.
“In that case, she will give herself away.”
The man coughed. “Very well. Nicholas James . . .”
After they signed the register, he gathered her into his arms. “I’m glad you’re my wife.”
She rose on her toes and kissed him. “I’m glad you’re my husband.”
“We have a pathetically small wedding breakfast waiting for us.”
“We’ll have a larger celebration when we go home to Beresford.”
He placed a light kiss on her lips. “You think of everything.”
Silvia grinned and Nick saw the sun, moon, and stars at the same time. “I do, don’t I?”
“Come along, minx. We need champagne.”
“Yes, I rather think we might.”
Their wedding breakfast included the same people who were at the church, but Lady Telford had done a splendid job of hosting a small but elegant feast.
An hour later, when Silvia and Nick were departing for his house, he finally got to kiss his new bride. “Do you really want to attend Lady Jersey’s ball?”
Silvia’s lips formed a pout. “Under other circumstances, no, but Cousin Clara is correct. It is the perfect time for thetonto see us married. After all, we cannot leave Town until after Vivian and Lord Stanstead are wed.”
Nick stifled a sigh. “At least we have the rest of the day.”
As soon as they arrived at his house, he introduced her to his small staff, and escorted her to their bedchamber.
Nick had waited for this moment for years. He, Silvia, and a bed.
He gave her time alone to change when he would rather have undressed her himself. Yet he must be careful not to alarm her; she was a rector’s daughter, after all, and had thought kisses could make her pregnant.
He knocked, strode into the room, and stopped. She was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. Her blue-black hair tumbled to her waist over the highly embroidered gown. When he’d looked his fill, he closed the distance between them. Removing his cravat, he kissed her. But instead of letting him take the lead, she put her hands on his chest and began pushing off his jacket.
“Silvia, love. Slow down.”
“Take it off. I’m already in my nightgown, and you haven’t even undressed.”
“I didn’t wish to scare you,” he said in his defense. What in blazes had got into her? Her hands went to the placket of his breeches. One by one the buttons were unfastened. This was truly going to be a shock. “You might wish to wait.”
His waistcoat was shoved down over his arms, and she tugged at his shirt. “Take it off.”
“Silvia, have you any idea what you’re doing?”
“Of course I do. Cousin Clara explained everything.”
“Never let it be said I don’t give you what you want.” He toed off his shoes and pushed down his breeches while bending over to allow her to remove his shirt. Once he was naked as the day he was born, he started unbuttoning her nightgown. “How many blasted buttons does this thing have?”
“I don’t know. I made it too long ago to remember.” Her voice was breathy as she rubbed her palms over his chest, playing with the hairs covering it.
“Silvia, I can’t get the blasted buttons undone.”
