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“That sounds perfectly acceptable for tonight,” she said, refusing to send her staff an apologetic glance. It would also do them good to appreciate how well off they had it.

Kingston nodded his agreement. “We’ll make do for tonight, and tomorrow, I’ll determine what needs to be done first to make everyone comfortable.”

No doubt, he thought to bundle her and her servants back to Canterbury.

In short order, everyone had been shown to their rooms, and the servants were busily preparing the evening meal, unpacking, or attending to the horseflesh.

Vanessa stood in the center of the chamber she would share with Kingston. She’d removed her outerwear and instructed Daisy to wait to unpack her trunks before sending her below to assist with supper.

Thank God, Vanessa had the forethought to bring foodstuffs. For from what Daisy had relayed to her, there wasn’t enough in the larder to feed two people, let alone sixteen. No wonder the Barclay brood looked half-starved.

Kingston was indeed in dire financial straits.

She eyed the tidy bed placed beneath a window, matching bed tables on either side. It was the same size as her Berkeley Square bed, yet when she contemplated sharing it with Kingston, the thing seemed much, much too small.

Or was it, at two inches over six feet, he was much, much too large compared to her five-foot-three stature?

But how could she selfishly demand her own room when everyone was sleeping two or three in a bedchamber?

She couldn’t, of course.

How can you hope to convince anyone your marriage has not been consummated if you’re sharing a room with your husband?

A single, soft knock echoed at the door.

“Come in,” she called, hoping it was anyone other than her Kingston. She wasn’t quite ready to face him yet. To suggest they move everyone to Helmstead Gate, post haste.

He poked his head inside, a grin teasing one side of his mouth and a shock of blond hair falling boyishly over his brow. His eyes, however, held a gravity that made her nervous. “May I come in?”

Bollocks.

“It’s your chamber too.” Filling her lungs with fortifying air, she waved her hand.

He advanced inside and closed the door.

“Kingston,” she blurted the same moment he said, “Vanessa.”

“Please. Go on.” He gestured for her to continue.

Summoning her courage, she clasped her hands and put forth what had been tormenting her for the past hour. “How will we convince anyone our marriage has not been consummated if we share a chamber?”

He cupped his nape and gave her a long, contemplative look, then veered his gaze to the bed, which dominated the chamber.

“Vanessa. May I speak plainly?”

“Of course.” She nodded. “I’d prefer that you always do so.”

“Yes, well…” He cleared his throat. “My parents always shared a chamber. My siblings will also expect that we do so. If we don’t, their suspicions will be raised. That is one reason I suggested you stay at Woolpack Inn.”

So it hadn’t only been to hide her away.

Or was it to protect her or protect his brothers and sisters?

“But they would’ve thought me pompous and haughty and that I believed myself above them had I done so.” Likely, they already thought as much. “Kingston, you know what I’m saying is true.”

“I’ll concede there may be a degree of truth in what you say.” His smile turned rueful as he skimmed that blue gaze over her appreciatively. “As for your worries about the annulment, a physician's examination can determine if your maidenhead is intact.”

Flames scorched dual paths up her cheeks. “Oh.”