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Chapter Nine
May 11, 1819
Lavinia glanced at the carriage-style clock on her bedside table and sighed. Almost midnight, and yet again she hadn’t spent the bulk of the day or evening with her husband. Yes, the duties to his title and responsibilities in Parliament took up much of his time, but she rather thought he was avoiding her even after the raw conversation they’d had yesterday afternoon.
But that didn’t make her want him any less. Especially after that all-too-brief kiss he’d given her once she’d told him the secret uppermost in her mind that had made her feel small and less than.
The air in the room was close and stifling. So much so that if she didn’t breathe in fresh air, she might choke. She laid the book she’d been reading aside and swung her legs over the side of the bed. Quickly, she padded across the floor, yanked open the drapes and then pushed open the windowpane. Immediately, the relatively cool air of the night wafted over her, banishing the heat in her skin.
Was there something inherently wrong with her as a woman now that she was a countess instead of a mistress? Had she lost her former appeal? Had the attraction, the desire between her and Percival suddenly faded in the face of marriage? And worse yet, did they face a dull future that many ton couples did, which would soon see them living apart?
How very… disappointing.
The trouble was, she missed being with him in a carnal capacity. Before, when she’d been his mistress, he visited three times a week at the townhouse he kept for her. He used to take her to the opera or Covent Garden or any number of places in the evenings where they could be seen. Afterward they would enjoy coupling or other sensual pleasures. At times, he would linger in her company, reading various articles to her from the paper, or passages of poetry he knew she enjoyed, discuss politics or other current events. They used to talk about everything except their personal lives. Now that the friendship was gone, a different sort of loneliness had descended, and she didn’t like it one bit.
Life within societal worlds was trying at best, but he’d promised to do better yesterday, and for whatever reason, she believed him.
Don’t make me think it is naught but folly.
As she peered down at the dark green space of the square, another waft of cool air rippled the silk negligee she’d donned. The aqua color was one of her favorites. Soft lace and satin ribbons trimmed the garment. It had been something frivolous she’d bought herself midway through her association with Percival as his mistress, something that made her feel pretty and wanted, even if he sometimes didn’t.
And she’d enjoyed spending the coin he gave her.
But now, she would give up the savings she’d managed to accumulate in her bank account for his undivided attention, perhaps his love if that were even possible. If not, it would be a long marriage indeed.
A soft knock sounded upon her bedchamber door. Before she could cross the floor and bid the visitor entry, the earl came into the room. The barely audible snick of the panel closing behind him echoed in the silence.
Oh, dear heavens!
Lavinia’s heartbeat quickened. “I wasn’t expecting you tonight.” Or at all, for that matter. He advanced further into the room, and a tingle of excitement danced down her spine, for he was in a delicious state of undress, the sort she found most appetizing—thin lawn shirt with the sleeves rolled up to the elbow, gray breeches, and scuffed Hessian boots. Why must he look so devilishly handsome when all he probably wished to do was talk?
“Neither did I expect to pay you a visit.” There was that certain gleam in his dark eyes that used to betray his carnal interest in her. “However, I’ve been thinking about our conversation from yesterday.”
“Oh?” Drat, but her traitorous body heated merely from the sound of his voice in the dim light. When her nipples tightened, she quickly crossed her arms over them to hide her budding arousal.
He nodded. “I would like to start building our new foundation—of trust, companionship, and possibly that as a happy, wedded couple.”
This was quite the turnabout for him. Was he foxed? She peered closely at him, but none of the signs of inebriation were there. Tentatively, she would agree. “I’d like that too.” The flickering play of the shadows from the one lit candle at her bedside table cast contours over his face, erasing the familiar lines of worry and grief he always carried. The dark shading of a day’s worth of stubble clinging to his cheeks and chin captivated her imagination. How well she remembered the erotic scrape of that friction on her skin.
“Good.”
The longer she stood in his presence, the more the need for him grew. Yet he remained a mystery to her, for she couldn’t puzzle out his intentions. It added a level of excitement to their relationship she didn’t have before. “What are you—”
“I promise to explain more in a moment.” The devil’s own grin curved his sensual lips, and she couldn’t help but drop her gaze to his mouth.
Ever since that fleeting kiss yesterday, she fantasized about kissing him again, tasting him, exploring every inch of that tightly honed body…
Swallowing hard to stave off her reaction, Lavinia cleared her throat. “Why are you here?”
“Come.” He held out a hand. “Sit with me.”
That didn’t sound too dangerous, but with Percival, one never knew. “Where?” Her nerves felt strung too tight. It was a new concept entirely having him in her bedchamber. They hadn’t been together like this since well before they’d wed, yet here he was, looking like sin and scandal, and he smelled so good! Citrus and cedar wafted to her nose, with the veriest hint of leather. “Why?” She could hardly speak because his presence filled the space.
“You’ll see.” Percival wriggled his fingers.
“All right.” Against her better judgment, Lavinia slipped her hand into his. Delicious heat trailed up her arm.
“I won’t hurt you.” He tugged her over to the brocade bench at the foot of her four-poster bed. The earl sat first but he still held her hand, and when he looked up at her, the emotions in his dark eyes were inscrutable. How did he manage to do that? “We’ve been married almost a week.”
