Page 85 of The Belle of Belgrave Square

“I am.” Her eyes once again drifted to the bed. She must have stolen three dozen glances at the dratted thing since she and Jasper first sat down. Even while eating, it had been there, looming large at the edge of her vision.

His deep voice recalled her attention. “You were going to say something before I interrupted you?”

Julia gave him a rueful look. “There’s only one bed.”

“There is,” he agreed solemnly. “You’ll take it, of course.”

“Where will you sleep?”

“On the floor. Or perhaps in this chair.”

Neither appeared very inviting. The floor was hard wood, the rug all but threadbare. The chair was little better. Its upholstery was faded, and the springs and cushioning seemed to have long given up the ghost.

“You’ll be dreadfully uncomfortable,” she said.

“I’ve slept in worse places.” He stood. “And no. I’m not going to discuss where.” He came around the table and offered her his hand.

She slid her fingers into his large grasp. His skin was warm and faintly calloused from work, abrading her palm in the most delicious way. It sent a delicate thrill through her core.

Good gracious. He was her husband. They were married.

As he assisted her from her chair, a perilous thought occurred to her. “We could share it.”

Jasper’s hand tightened reflexively on hers. It was the only sign that he was affected by her words. There was no other indication—not in his voice or in his expression. His tone was entirely calm. “My dear, are you suggesting that we sleep together?”

Twenty

Jasper knew the answer before she gave it. He couldn’t think why he’d bothered to ask. She obviously hadn’t been proposing they consummate their marriage. Even if she had suggested it, he wouldn’t have obliged her. Not when she was so weak with exhaustion she could scarcely keep her eyes open.

“I could do little else in this state,” she responded ingenuously. “And I’m a sound sleeper. You needn’t worry about disturbing me.”

“Plainly, it’s only me who’s going to be disturbed this evening,” he said.

“Because the bed’s so small? I don’t expect it will be too unpleasant. Not in comparison to sleeping on the floor.”

“‘Unpleasant’ isn’t the word I’d use to describe it.” He frowned at her for a moment. “Very well,” he said at last. If he was going to torture himself, he may as well fully commit to the business. “Shall I leave you to change?”

“As to that . . .” Her cheeks pinkened with embarrassment. “I’m afraid I’ve never undressed without a maid to assist me. Not since I started wearing a corset.”

Jasper’s blood stirred with warmth.

So, this was what marriage was like. Standing in a tiny room at an inn with his bride, listening to her reference the difficulties of disrobing. It was a topic no lady would ever broach in mixed company. And yet, a few muttered words from the vicar and here Jasper and Julia were, husband and wife, on terms of the greatest intimacy.

It was difficult not to be affected by it.

“Would you like me to assist you?” he asked.

Her blush deepened. “If you wouldn’t mind.”

“You’ll have to direct me.” He attempted to keep his voice light and failed miserably. It sounded as raspy as the devil. “I’m not accustomed to undressing fine ladies.”

She touched the front of her bodice with unsteady fingers. Her condition had already been weakened when they departed London, but after the rigors of their long journey, her remaining strength had faded to a shadow. She wouldn’t last much longer.

“There are interior hooks all the way down,” she said. “I can unfasten them myself, but—”

“Let me.” He gently brushed aside her hands. “It will be quicker.”

It wasn’t.