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CHAPTER6
Eleanor retreated to her chambers early that night. Henry never reappeared after the disappointing supper, and Eleanor didn’t particularly want to spend an evening with the Dowager Duchess. Throughout the rest of the meal, the lady had badgered Eleanor about her beliefs, peppering her with questions. By the time Eleanor excused herself from the dinner table, she felt exhausted and ready to collapse.
As it was her first night in her new home, Eleanor took a minute to appreciate the bedchambers that had been prepared especially for her use. Her room was expansive, with three tall windows running along the wall. Shades of aquamarine and purple swirled throughout the silk wallpaper, and the curtains were the color of forget-me-nots. “The Dowager Duchess must have decorated this room,” Eleanor told herself as she wandered around, touching the textured walls.
There was a large, overstuffed bed in the middle of the room, situated between two of the windows, and a Chippendale nightstand sat next to it. Across from the bed, near the door that led into Eleanor’s dressing closet, there stood two chests of drawers, as well as a vanity with a cushiony stool perched just in front of it.
Eleanor walked to the bed and sat primly on the edge of the mattress. The soft, satiny, lavender-colored sheets rippled beneath her, and Eleanor extended a hand to run it over the top layer. She didn’t often choose bedding in this fabric, because her cats didn’t like the way it stuck to their claws. Eleanor made a mental note to purchase different sheets, as she had no intentions of keeping Sir Whiskers and Lady Lovely Paws from her chambers.
Eleanor relaxed as her lady’s maid undressed her slowly and carefully. Once she was free of the burdensome undergarments, she dismissed the maid and sat for a moment in the luxurious silence. Then Eleanor walked toward one of the trunks and opened it, rifling through the items that were now part of her trousseau. She eyed the linens and cloth handkerchiefs that were on top of the pile but pushed them aside in favor of the dressing gowns. Eleanor pulled a long green robe with yellow roses printed on it from the mix and she slipped it around her body. She cinched the sash tightly at the waist. Then, she moved back toward the vanity.
Eleanor picked up her silver hairbrush and sat elegantly in the chair. After pulling her hair out of the complicated style in which it had been fixed earlier, she began to run the brush through her long strands. Her hair fell to her waistline, and it felt rather nice to pull the brush through the silky strands. Eleanor idly counted the strokes of her brush as she worked, and when she got to forty-eight, a soft knock sounded on her door.
Eleanor rose reluctantly, imagining it was the lady’s maid, coming to help tidy the room and ask if there was anything else Eleanor needed before she retired for the evening. But, when she swung open the heavy wooden door, she gasped in surprise.
“Henry? What are you doing here?” Eleanor asked, her hand moving to the cinch on her dressing robe. Suddenly, she felt rather exposed.
Henry’s face reddened and he cleared his throat. “May I come in?” He said huskily and Eleanor stepped aside. As she had not laid eyes on her husband since he had abruptly left the dinner table, she was startled to see him now, so she was curious as to what could have brought him to her chambers at this time of night.
“Henry, is anything the matter?” Eleanor asked, as she shut the door behind him. When she turned back around, she found that he was standing awfully close to her. He had barely come into the room, and now it was as though they were sharing the same spot on the floor.
“Nothing’s wrong, Eleanor,” Henry said in a low and seductive voice. He took a step toward Eleanor, eliminating the space between them entirely. Her pulse picked up speed as it raced through her veins.
“Henry…” Eleanor said slowly, as she took a step away from him. Then, she took another, and her back connected with the door.
“Hmmm?” Henry murmured, moving toward Eleanor. He stopped walking so that just an inch of space existed between the two of them. He reached out to her and using one of his long fingers, he traced a line down her arm. Through the satiny robe, Eleanor tingled in the places where his finger touched. With his other hand, Henry reached out and laced his fingers through her hair. He floated the hand through her tresses and whispered, “Beautiful.”
Eleanor felt a warmth begin to burn in her lower stomach area, and her breathing became shaky. “Henry,” Eleanor gulped back her nervousness, “what are you doing?”
“I am your husband…” Henry purred, leaning in so he could whisper the words across Eleanor’s lips. “You are my wife.”
“But…” Eleanor said, trying to move even further into the door, but meeting with the heavy resistance. “We only have a marriage in name. We are not in love with one another, and…”
“Who said anything about love?” Henry murmured, as he brushed back a lock of Eleanor’s hair, his fingers caressing her earlobe as he did so.
“Who said anything about love?” Eleanor echoed, and then the warm glow in her stomach fizzled. “Who said anything about love?” She repeated once more, turning her head away from Henry so she was no longer looking into his eyes.
He took one step backward, and Eleanor seized her opportunity. Without him pressing against her, she slid across the length of the wall and went to stand next to her vanity. She moved so that the stool now stood between herself and her husband. She eyed him darkly.
Henry might have seemed a little surprised by Eleanor’s reactions, but he did not seem to have given up on her entirely. He smiled and turned toward where she now stood. “Come now, Eleanor,” Henry said gently. “I know ladies are unsure of what to expect on their wedding night, but you must have known that I would come to your bedchambers.”
Eleanor straightened her posture. “I assumed you would not, as our agreement did not include such visitations.”
Henry snorted a derisive laugh. “Oh, yes, it did. Just as conveniently as you seemed to forget my telling you that you could not bring pets to this house, you appear to also have forgotten that I must provide an heir to my dukedom.”
Eleanor felt her face flush a deep crimson. She had not forgotten that Henry had posited this stipulation, and she recalled agreeing to it. But she had not intended to hold up this end of the bargain, at least not right now. Maybe, in a few years, if they had come to trust one another, she would be willing to allow Henry into her bedchambers, and she would be willing to give him an heir, but she certainly had not anticipated being asked to do so tonight… on her very first night as his wife.
“I do remember that conversation,” Eleanor said, once again pulling the dressing robe tightly around her body.
Henry gave her a knowing look, as though he could see right through her and that disarmed Eleanor completely. “We made a deal, Eleanor,” Henry reminded her.
“Yes, we did,” she said, daring to lock her eyes onto his own. “And I intend to hold up my end of the bargain…eventually, but not tonight.”
“Why not tonight?” Henry asked, his tone a mixture of amusement, shock, and disappointment.
Eleanor squared her shoulders. “Only a dastardly rake would expect his new wife to make good on her promise to produce a child her very first night in their new home.”
Henry chuckled then and took a step towards Eleanor. “We both know that’s not true. A rake I may be, but I’m hardly dastardly. And most men and women share the same bedchambers on the night they first wed. It is tradition.”
