Page 13 of A Necessary Wife

They pressed together harder and harder with each passing moment, and before long, Amelia felt tension building down low where they touched. Her body throbbed, and she felt herself grow warm and wet between her legs. She squirmed, seeking relief.

Lord Chatham reached between them to cup her sex and that was all it took to bring about climax. She ought to be embarrassed that such pleasures she’d discovered on her own but she did not apologize. Chatham tugged her chemise up and then fumbled with the opening of his breeches. It did not take long before he joined with her, and Amelia shut her eyes tightly against the discomfort as he took her maidenhead but a squeak of distress must have escaped her.

He froze above her, then his movements grew fast until he groaned and shuddered.

Amelia was stunned it was over so quickly, but they lay connected for a long moment, each panting for breath.

Then Lord Chatham disengaged and rolled away.

They lay side by side, staring up at the ceiling.

“Was it as bad as you thought it would be?” he asked eventually.

Amelia risked a glance at him. Chatham was not looking at her, and she turned her attention back to the intricate ceiling above her head, too. “It was not dissimilar from what my imagination had led me to believe,” she told him.

“I have to go.”

She frowned at the abrupt news. “Why?”

“The servants will be outside soon, waiting to serve you, and I promised to return downstairs tonight. I will give everyone your apologies.”

“Everyone?”

“My father is hosting a house party he failed to inform me of,” he said, sounding highly displeased.

Amelia sat up too quickly and her head spun, wincing as discomfort between her legs became evident, too. “Oh.”

Chatham threw himself out of bed, turned his back as he redressed himself. Then he started collecting her clothing and draping them in a tidy pile at the foot of the bed. He placed her shoes neatly beside it all, and Amelia marveled at his composure.

She had hoped there might be more tenderness after the deed was done. Apparently, she was wrong about that.

“The servants will be here soon. You should redress before they arrive,” he announced. “I don’t know when I will return. Do you need my help?”

“No but shouldn’t I dress and come downstairs with you?”

“No,” he snapped. “It is much too late to summon a maid to prepare you properly to join the party and make our announcement. I would rather the gathering was not deep in their cups when we face them together.”

Amelia sat there a long moment, stung by his rejection of her presence on his arm but seeing the sense of a delay till tomorrow. She would need at least an hour to dress appropriately for a roomful of the duke’s closest friends and family.

Chatham shuffled his feet, and it seemed obvious that he was uncomfortable. He couldn’t wait to go. But he also seemed to be waiting for her blessing to leave the room.

“I understand. Good night then,” she whispered.

“Good night, my lady,” he answered, and she heard him depart the room.

Humiliated, Amelia slipped out from under the sheet and gathered up her gown from today. When she glanced over the bed, she spotted a smear of red upon the snowy-white linen sheet and sighed. She quickly hid the proof of the loss of innocence by remaking the bed herself and then hurried behind the dressing screen to tend herself.

By the time servants arrived with the promised supper tray, Amelia had put the awkward coupling to the back of her mind as best she could. She might have hoped for more tenderness from her husband, but as with everyone in her life so far, she had been left wanting. If she ever craved real affection in her marriage, she could only rely on the children to provide it.

CHAPTER FOUR

Milo was relieved to find Amelia alone sitting in the garden early the next morning. He had returned to his bedchamber in the early hours of the morning and watched Amelia sleep for a while. But his heart had raced so fast, he’d felt the need to leave again. He’d stayed only long enough to collect fresh clothing and then slipped away to wait for dawn.

But when he returned to take Amelia down to breakfast, he had found the room empty, the bed straightened. For a moment, he’d feared the worst, until he’d spotted her sitting alone in the garden through the window.

He approached her gingerly now, rather embarrassed by his behavior the night before. He had not entirely been prepared to make love to his new wife, and when it was over, he’d made quite the mess of things.

She turned slightly, hearing his approach, and a polite smile appeared on her lips. “Good morning, Lord Chatham.”