Page 11 of A Necessary Wife

“I see.”

She was mildly surprised that she would not have her own chamber here, but it was an unexpected boon to share a room and bed with her husband, surely. He’d said theirs was to be a marriage of convenience, besides the consummation and making of children. But she had hoped for an opportunity to know her husband better.

The first step was sharing the same bed at least once, though her stomach was in knots now, thinking about how that would go.

What she did know about Chatham’s love life after his wife died was mostly secondhand gossip. He was an earl, and very popular. He had not lacked for female company. His good looks appealed to a great many women. If Amelia had met him when she first came out, and married him, she would never have been tempted to stray.

He was, in a word, nearly perfect.

The only blemish in his character, according to her brother, was the coldness of his heart. Not that Amelia could blame him for that, after everything he’d been through with his first wife. But it did explain why he had approached her in so serious a manner about his plans to wed again.

Amelia had been burned too.

When they had returned to the discussion of marriage upon his return, it had been repeatedly stated that there would never be any expectation of great personal connection between them. He only wanted her for a mother for his children, a responsible partner to look after his home and estate grounds. And since Amelia liked children, and gardening was her passion, she was now keen to claim both as soon as she could.

Love and affection between them were utterly unimportant.

Chatham directed her to a door, opened it, and ushered her inside. She found herself in a large, square, well-appointed bedchamber, sufficiently lit by candles and a roaring fireplace, with his valet currently unpacking his employer’s trunk.

Chatham sent him away with a flick of his hand.

“This has been my chambers since I was a boy,” he announced, strolling around the room.

Amelia glanced about but found no great insight into his character or past here. The room smelled of beeswax and his cologne.

“I will leave you to get settled in, Lady Chatham,” he said suddenly. “The maid your brother provided will continue to act as your personal maid until a better one is hired in Devon. Until tomorrow.”

Amelia turned to him in surprise. “Can we not speak together for a few moments more?”

Chatham frowned at the door. “I had imagined you’d prefer to be alone to eat before retiring for the night. You must be tired.”

Amelia shook her head. “I wish to discuss the consummation.”

His jaw clenched briefly. “Now is not the time.”

She tried not to show her disappointment. “Why not do it now? I do not wish to put it off until I fear it.”

His eyes widened.

Amelia would not be put off by his shock when she spoke her mind. It was to be expected with a marriage like theirs. She wished for the truthful blunt exchanges of their initial discussion to continue.

She removed the pins from her hair and let the long blonde locks tumble down her back. Then she slipped off her cloak, loosened the strings on the front of her gown, and kicked away her slippers.

Chatham did not move, and greater awkwardness set in. She wet her lips, unsure how to proceed, or even if she could. “Must I make an appointment for you to take my innocence?”

He wet his lips, too. “This is not what we agreed upon, Lady Chatham,” he argued, even as he dug a finger under his cravat and tried to loosen it. “When we are home, there will be leisure time to indulge in this sort of thing.”

Amelia scowled, realizing she had other ideas than the usually unflappable earl she had married. She let her gown slip lower. With one shimmy of her hips, the material was pooled at her feet. Then she reached for the strings of her stays. She loosened them too, her cheeks growing warm, but knowing there was no turning back now.

She wanted this done and out of the way.

The room was warm, and the candlelight made it seem almost romantic, save for the reluctant groom standing stiffly across from her.

She flung her stays away and stood before him in only her thin chemise, knowing that the firelight would reveal her figure under the sheer garment. This was as seductive as she knew how to be.

Chatham’s breath became labored, and his face turned an interesting shade of pink. She waited for him to act.

He only watched her, though, fists now clenched at his sides.