Graham leapt nimbly down from the carriage first, turning around and offering his hand to help her down. Ursula followed, taking his hand. To her surprise, she found herself swept neatly into his arms, bridal-style.
“What are you doing?” she laughed, clutching at his shoulders for balance. “Did you drink too much champagne?”
“I imagine I did,” he chuckled, “but that isn’t why I am carrying you. It occurred to me that you were never carried over the threshold, as a bride ought to be. Better later than never, eh?”
Ursula stared up at him, her arms wound around his neck. His eyes crinkled up in a smile, and they glinted as he looked down at her. She realised an instant too late that she could not think of a clever response in time and so acted on impulse.
Leaning up, she kissed him full on the lips. His lips were warm and soft and he tasted of champagne and tea.
The kiss was brief and not a passionate one, as the awkwardness of leaning up for too long made it hard for Graham to do so. Ursula pulled back, blinking with wide eyes.
Have I overstepped my boundaries?
He stared down at her, his smile gone, and something heated glowed in his eyes.
“We should go to bed,” he said abruptly, and warmth swept through Ursula’s core.
“Yes,” she managed faintly. “I believe that is a very good idea.”
He strode rapidly across the courtyard, carrying her with surprising ease. The night footman stood at attention at the door, barely glancing at either of them. Ursula found herself staring up at Graham, her heart thumping in her chest.
Is this it? Will we finally…
“You two are back late.”
Ursula flinched, and so did Graham. He turned awkwardly with her in his arms, and they both saw Margaret standing at the top of the stairs, arms tightly folded.
“Mother,” Graham managed at last. “You’re awake. I thought you were ill.”
She sniffed. “I’m feeling better. You ought not to carry her around like that, Graham. You might drop her. Ursula, dear, I wondered if you might come and look at some new fabric I have ordered. I thought it might make a pretty shawl.”
Ursula’s heart plummeted.
Is this really how our lovely evening is going to end? With me smothering a yawn, trying to listen to what my mother-in-law has to say?
This thought was rapidly followed by another.
She is trying to get between us.
Before Ursula could reply, however, Graham spoke.
“Not tonight, Mother,” he said firmly. “Ursula is tired.”
He climbed the stairs rapidly, still clutching Ursula in his arms. Margaret did not give way, continuing to stand on the landing, her face tight and disapproving.
“It’ll only take a moment,” she said flatly, in a tone that indicated there would be no discussion.
She was wrong. Graham did not stop to set Ursula down. Instead, he strode straight past his mother, heading down the hallway towards the Green Room. As they passed, Ursula heard Margaret suck in a sharp, angry breath.
“I believe you already have your answer, Mother,” Graham remarked over his shoulder. “Not tonight. Sleep well.”
Ursula hung onto Graham’s shoulders, twisting to look back at her mother-in-law. Margaret’s face was white and angry with humiliation. She stood there for a long moment, watching, then turned on her heel and marched out of view. Ursula suppressed a giddy smile. It felt like a victory.
They reached the door to her room, and Graham stepped inside, closing the door with his heel. The room had been prepared for Ursula to fall straight into bed. The sheets were turned down, her linens and night gown set out, the fire blazing, and fresh water set out.
Gently, Graham placed Ursula down on her feet, turning her to face him. He stared down at her face, something soft in his eyes, and cupped her jaw with his hands.
“I will insist that my mother either takes herself home or stays elsewhere from now on,” he murmured, his voice a low drawl. “I love my mother, but she refuses to show you proper respect. I am also of the opinion that she is trying to drive a wedge between us and I do not wish for that to happen.”
