The Wedding Eve
The night beforethe wedding found Amelia in her modest parlor, surrounded by stacks of crated belongings ready to be transported to the Hereford townhouse. Elisha had arrived with a bottle of fine champagne—“Edgar’s best,” she’d announced—while Charlotte carried a leather folio that looked suspiciously official for what was meant to be a social call.
“I can’t believe this is my last night here,” Amelia said, running her fingers along the familiar worn arm of her reading chair. “Five years I’ve built a life in this home, and tomorrow it all changes.”
“Not everything,” Elisha said, deftly removing the cork from the champagne bottle with a muted pop. “You’ll still have theReview, your writing, and us.”
“And quite possibly your independence,” Charlotte added, “Although such documents are only as binding as your husband is willing to honor them.”
“Steven assured me the settlement protects my assets,” Amelia said, accepting a glass of champagne from Elisha.
“That it does, as thoroughly as possible given the current laws,” Charlotte replied with a smug smile. “I insisted on reviewing every clause, much to the solicitor’s visible discomfort at having a woman present. However,” she continued, lowering her voice conspiratorially, “should you wish to gently persuade him to do your bidding, you can always leave his bed cold. Even legal documents cannot compelcertain marital obligations.”
Elisha raised an eyebrow. “Are you suggesting Amelia refuse Hereford’s conjugal rights?”
“I’m merely presenting options,” Charlotte said, though her slight smile suggested otherwise. “Andrew and I delayed consummation for four days after our wedding.”
“Four days?” Amelia’s eyes widened. “That isn’t even close to a year. Are men capable of not bedding their wives for one whole year? Especially a man like Hereford?”
“Men will agree to many things when sufficient anticipation is created,” Charlotte replied, her smile turning distinctly wicked. “Though I must admit, by the fourth night I was rather anticipating it myself.”
Elisha laughed, refilling their glasses. “The countess speaks truth. I felt the same way. Besides, there’s a reason so many widows pursue Hereford, and it’s not merely for his title.”
“Please,” Amelia groaned, covering her face. “I’m trying to determine how to avoid his bed, not occupy it.”
“But why avoid it entirely?” Elisha asked, her tone gentler. “Even if this marriage isn’t consummated, there are other ways to enjoy his charms and expertise.”
Amelia stared into her champagne, watching the bubbles rise and burst. “It’s not just our strained acquaintance or his reputation that would have me avoiding his bed,” she confessed, her voice dropping to barely above a whisper.
“Is it your injury, Amelia?” Elisha asked, her tone gentle.
Amelia nodded, her eyes suddenly glistening with unshed tears. “No one has seen my leg, and he never will. It’s hideous.” Her voice cracked on the last word, the vulnerability she rarely showed breaking through her composure.
Charlotte and Elisha exchanged a glance before both moved to her side. They enveloped her in their arms, their shared warmth offeringcomfort where words fell short. Amelia stiffened momentarily before surrendering to their embrace, allowing herself this rare moment of weakness.
“He’s marrying you despite the unfavorable terms,” Charlotte noted gently. “Despite his mother’s objections. Despite Society’s expectations. That suggests something more complex than a simple marriage of convenience, railway investments or not.”
Amelia swiped quickly at her eyes, embarrassed by her momentary lapse. “Perhaps he simply doesn’t understand the reality of it,” she murmured. “The scarring, the awkwardness of intimacy.”
“Or perhaps he sees beyond it,” Elisha suggested, squeezing Amelia’s hand.
Charlotte nodded in agreement, her practical nature reasserting itself. “You have options,” she said, smoothly transitioning to business matters. She reached for her folio, extracting several pages marked with legal seals. “Now, there’s language specifying that non-consummation for a period of up to three months cannot be used as grounds for breach. This gives you time to evaluate your options.”
“I wouldn’t be so certain about the non-consummation.” Elisha’s lips curved into a knowing smile as she pinned a last orange blossom into place. “You underestimate men’s willingness to do almost anything for amorous encounters, as well as your own appeal. In addition, it can be rather thrilling to blindfold him—”
“Elisha Lancaster!” Amelia pressed a scandalized hand to her chest. “Is that really you speaking? What happened to the woman who once declared all men to be ‘useless creatures guided by their baser instincts’?”
Elisha dabbed at her eyes with a delicate handkerchief, trying to hide her knowing smile. “It turns out a generous husband’s baser instincts can be quite… enlightening. Wouldn’t you agree, Charlotte?”
Charlotte’s usually composed face flushed pink. “I never would have believed it myself, but yes. The marriage bed can be…” She bit her lip, color deepening. “Rather heavenly.”
The three women dissolved into shocked giggles, the sound echoing off the dressing room walls like they were young girls again, sharing secrets at a finishing school, instead of respected married ladies (and one very nervous bride).
“Well,” Amelia managed once she caught her breath, “your endorsements are intriguing, though not quite enough to overcome my reluctance to bare myself before anyone, husband or not.” Her hand drifted unconsciously to her leg.
“I think what you need is knowledge,” Charlotte said, her voice gentle but firm. She reached into her folio and extracted a small book bound in discreet brown leather. “This might prove educational regarding certain marital activities, should you choose to explore them.”
Amelia took the book with curiosity, then gasped as she flipped it open to find remarkably detailed illustrations of intimate acts between men and women. “Charlotte Carlisle! Where did you get such a thing?”
