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“Hello,” she said drowsily. Her eyes caught on the hard swell of his upper arms and felt a flush rising up her throat. Her stomach tightened at his expression. She looked down at the wide head of his cock, flushed red and already standing tall. “Is it terrible that I want you again?”

The low groan that came from Fiennes’s chest told its own tale. He rolled on top of her while Ella registered that her husband would never think that terrible.

Sometime later, she was tucked against his side, both of them catching their breath, damp with sweat, when Fiennes asked, “Ella, may I give your father’s will to my solicitors?” He caught himself. “Our solicitors.”

Ella lazily raised her head She felt so happy that a mention of her uncle didn’t bother her. “Do whatever you wish. Here’s another idea—we could simply frame it.”

“Why?”

“It’s not lost any longer,” Ella said, a bit dreamily. “The house is gone, and the Northern estate … well, we have enough, don’t we? We can leave that estate for the new baby.”

“By the time your aunt’s child reaches manhood, your father’s estate will be gone, lost in the flip of a pair of dice,” Fiennes told her.

She swallowed hard.

He kissed her. “I’ll get it back even if I have to buy it.”

“I don’t want you to buy it!” Ella protested. “My father left those lands to our children.”

She reached out and trailed a finger across Fiennes’s chest. And then further down.

“At this rate, those children will be with us sooner rather than later,” Fiennes said, grinning.

“I feel so greedy,” Ella confessed. “I no sooner stop—well, stop quivering—and I want to do it again.”

Fiennes put his hand over hers and wrapped it around his cock, erect again. He drew their hands slowly upward. “You are not alone in that, Ella.”

She leaned in and licked his lower lip again. “You did say that you wanted as many children as Josephina has.” She chuckled, a fragment of a laugh. “A shared project, so to speak.”

Lord and Lady Peregrine spent two long, delightful weeks avoiding society, straying from their bedchamber now and then to share meals with Ella’s aunt.

Away from the stress of her husband’s moody invective, the viscountess lost the green tinge in her complexion. Jarvis was often seen escorting her to the gardens at the back of the house and keeping her company on a bench, though no one said a word.

Fiennes paid his staff above market price, and they were loyal to him. None of them were more loyal than the former viscount’s maids, their spirits revived like wilted flowers given water. The young women rejoiced to join a household where they were valued, paid for their labor, and assured that no one would ever enter their bedrooms uninvited.

Fiennes had offered the viscount a lump sum covering the furniture and belongings left in the St. Trevelyon townhouse, so Jarvis oversaw the transportation of everything to storage.

On the last day before transfer of ownership, Fiennes suggested that they visit the townhouse.

Ella wrinkled her nose. “My uncle never put any money into upkeep. I was shocked at its condition when we arrived in London, and it must look even worse now.”

“Please?” Fiennes asked.

Which meant that a few minutes later she accepted a wildly fashionable chapeau de paille from her maid. The straw hat had a large brim with no less than three curling plumes and a striped ribbon to tie under her chin.

“Very attractive,” a husky voice said in her ear.

Ella tipped her head back to smile at her husband and found herself kissed so hard that the straw hat tipped to one side. She emerged flushed, her heart beating quickly. “We needn’t visit the house,” she whispered.

His breath was uneven, but he shook his head. “My carriage is waiting.”

Fiennes lifted her into a rakish open curricle that allowed them to greet friends and acquaintances. Not that Ella knew many people yet, but smiling at them, her darling parasol tipped just so, she had the satisfaction of knowing they knew perfectly well who she was.

The viscount’s daughter who had married the richest, most handsome man in the city.

And the dearest.

Outside the St. Trevelyon house, their groom jumped down and went to the horses’ heads. “We won’t be long,” Fiennes said, his large hands closing around Ella’s waist as he lifted her from the curricle. “I asked your uncle to meet us here.”