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Then he recalled the off-hand remark he’d made about marrying someone she did not love to ‘punish’ herself. Did she still think some sort of retribution for her mistake meant she had no right to be happy? Or, having been devastated by loss before, was she afraid of claiming a happiness she might lose again?
The death of a fiancé that placed her in such horrific circumstances would make anyone afraid to chance loving again. As for any lingering notion of punishment, constant affirmation of her worthiness from someone who knew of her past, and admired her for surviving it, might finally free her from any lingering hold it had upon her.
He should woo her, until she was assured of his love and secure enough to let go of the past and love again without fear. Until she believed in the depths of her soul that she was deserving of happiness. That he would always support her. That she would never again be left alone and desperate and in danger.
How best to reach her?
Beside him, Theo stirred. Opening groggy eyes to smile at him, she slid a hand up over his bare leg. As his member leapt in response, Dom knew he had his answer.
His Theo had no fear at all of lovemaking. If he wooed her with words and bedazzled her with kisses, until she trusted the affection they shared was as deep and unending as their passion, he could bring her to acknowledge and eventually revel in loving him.
Then he truly would be the luckiest man in England.
He’d just have to think of ways to seduce her.
Ah, now that was a challenge he could embrace with enthusiasm!
Chapter Twenty
Two days later, Theo sat at the table in the breakfast room sharing a light repast with her husband.
Her husband...the fact of being wed still amazed her every time she thought of it.
Though they’d spent so much of their marriage thus far in the bedchamber, she felt her face flush every time one of the servants looked at her, as a footman did now before refilling her cup.
‘That’s all, Thomas, you may go,’ Dom said. Grinning as he looked at her no doubt rosy cheeks, after the footman left the room, he said, ‘It’s all right, Theo, we’re married now.’
‘I could scarcely face Susan when I finally got back to my room yesterday at noon, when we’d arrived so early the previous evening! I apologised for having her wait so long to help me change. And I still feel...odd, knowing they all know what we’ve been doing. ‘
‘They expect it. Maybe not so much of it...’
She felt her face heat further, and his grin turned into a chuckle before he took her hand and kissed it. ‘My Theo. So calm and matter of fact in public—and such a siren in the bedchamber. Who dreamed I would be lucky enough to marry every man’s secret fantasy? I’d be the envy of London, did anyone suspect.’
‘Well, I trust you’re not going to go announcing it in your clubs,’ she said tartly, still feeling embarrassed.
‘Certainly not! It’s my secret—and my good fortune. I hope the last two days have made you as happy as they’ve made me.’
She smiled and squeezed his fingers before releasing them. ‘I’ve been wonderfully...content.’
His smile wavered, as if that wasn’t the answer he’d hoped for. Before she could figure out what else to say, he said, ‘This will be our last day before we rejoin the others at your aunt’s and prepare to leave London. Lady Coghlane urged me, and I think it wise, to complete purchasing a wardrobe for you before we go back to the country.’
‘“Dandy Dom’s” wife, after all, should look the part?’ She made a face. ‘Must we? I thought you didn’t mind me riding about in my comfortable old habit.’
He laughed. ‘I’ve wanted to have the dressing of you since the day we met. And the undressing. Since I’ve managed that last several times, quite skilfully I thought, it’s time to proceed to the former.’
‘My old habit being a challenge—or an affront, as it is to Aunt Amelia?’
‘A bit of both.’
‘Sure you don’t want to do more of the “undressing” first?’ she asked, leaning over to give him a lingering kiss.
He reached up to hold her chin, prolonging the kiss, which now lacked the urgency of passion long denied, but was sweeter for the promise of passion to come—wherever and as often as they chose.
When he finally broke the kiss, Theo noted with gratification that Dom looked as flushed as she felt.
‘Now, where were we?’ he asked unsteadily. ‘Ah, yes. Commissioning some new gowns and a new habit.’
Theo groaned. ‘You do have a mind like a poacher’s trap.’
‘Did you think to distract me? Remember, I have a reputation to maintain.’
‘Very well. But only if you promise me a ride in the park this afternoon.’
‘It will have to be tomorrow. I’ve already made an important appointment for today—visiting Tattersall’s to find a pony for a little boy.’
She drew back a little, surprised. ‘A pony? When did Charles ask you about that?’
‘The day I proposed, I asked his permission to marry you, and he said he would agree, as long as he got his pony—and I showed him how to arrange his soldiers in line of battle.’
Something softened and twisted in her heart as Theo realised Dom had thought to include her son in his vision for their marriage. He really would be the protector and champion she and Charles both needed. ‘That was so kind of you. Even if he did take shameless advantage of the opportunity, the little rascal.’
‘Enlightened self-interest, like Jemmie. I’ve got no suitable ponies at Bildenstone, so it would be best to find one for him here. We’ll have a groom bring it back, while we take the carriage.’
Impulsively, she rose and went to hug him, gratitude and affection intensifying the connection she’d always felt to him. ‘Thank you for accepting my son,’ she whispered.
He caught one hand and kissed it. ‘You and your son are one blood. I could no more marry one without embracing the other than you could marry me without inheriting my cousins as well—though, to your relief, none of them are yet near enough to irritate you. But be warned! Eventually, Max, Will and Alastair will be tripping over our threshold and taking over our sitting room.’
‘I shall love to welcome them.’
‘So, before Tattersall’s—which, sadly, admits gentlemen only—we shall visit the modiste.’
‘Very well—but I can’t imagine anything more of a dead bore.’
‘Oh, no, it will be tantalising. I can imagine you in—and out—of each gown. Then there are chemises, and stays, and stockings, and garters...’
‘Chemises and stays and garters!’ she echoed, scandalised. ‘You cannot accompany me to buy those!’
‘Why not? Because I’ll be looking at you lasciviously the whole time?’ he asked, grinning again—obviously enjoying her discomfort.
‘It would be too intimate to view such apparel together, in front of total strangers,’ she said stiffly, her face heating again at the thought.
‘Very well.’ He relented. ‘Gowns only.’
‘That will be a dead bore,’ she muttered.
He caught her chin again. ‘What will be the forfeit, if I prove you wrong?’
‘You can have your wicked way with me—when we return, of course, not in the modiste’s dressing room.’
‘And here I thought you had imagination.’ He sighed. ‘I’ll take your bargain, though. Did you bring with you the gown of Prussian blue à la Hussar?’
She looked at him blankly for a moment. ‘You mean the dark-blue one with the double buttons and frogging on the front? Yes, Susan packed it.’
‘Wear that one,’ he said drily. ‘While you’re changing at the modiste’s, I can imagine undoing all those little buttons.’
* * *
Chafing at having to waste their last morning together at a dressmaker’s, Theo dutifully presented herself a half-hour later in the requested gown, and a short time after that, the hackney deposited them before the elegant shop of ‘Madame Emilie’.
To Theo’s chagrin, the shop girl who greeted them must have recognised Dom, for a moment later, the modiste herself hurried over in a flurry of curtsies. Welcoming him by name, she enquired about his injuries, expressed her joy at his recovery and her delight to see him back in her shop. After telling her what they were seeking—Theo mute through the whole exchange—Madame Emilie hurried off in pursuit of the latest copies of La Belle Assemblée and the materials Dom had requested.
‘She greeted you like an unexpected bequest from a distant relation,’ Theo murmured. ‘Just how many mistresses have you dressed here?’
Dom laughed. ‘Just one former fiancée—even wealthier than you, and much more interested in acquiring a wardrobe.’
