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She dropped her head, exposing her neck, and he was done for. He reached out and placed his palm gently alongside it, and she tilted her head to rest her jaw on his fingers. If he was not mistaken, she brushed his knuckles with her mouth.
“I have had your family—our family clinging to my skirts all day.”
“Our status is the epitome of aversipelliandream come true.”
“I did not mind.” Her breath warmed his fingers. “This evening, however, I would prefer we found some privacy. I propose we dine together in the stillroom.”
“As ever, an ingenious solution, Madam.”
Madam nodded, for it was her due. “Until tonight.” She sniffed his knuckles, which he had to admit was rather ticklish. She tipped a small glance over her shoulder and left the way she’d come, head high but with a spring to her step.
***
Beatrice lit the last candle and straightaway thought to snuff them all again. It was her third attempt to light them and leave them ablaze; she backed away from the mantelpiece and took in the transformation of the stillroom.
The household had been busy in her absence, obeying an instinct to set a scene tonight. A walnut inlaid table had been brought in and set with service for two, a cold collation of meats as well as due consideration given to the sweets, weighted heavily on the side of lemon cake and ginger biscuits.
The sheets had been changed, fragrant with lavender and cedarwood and clover, and the bed hung with curtains beautifully embroidered with bears rambling from top to bottom. She supposed they would have been her first clue if they had been in place upon her arrival. What looked to be the household’s entire collection of pitchers and vases were full of flowers of the wild variety, some with the roots still attached, betraying the children’s hands in their gathering.
She was freshly bathed and the water and tub removed by a parade of discreet attendants. A delicate nightgown embellished with lace had been laid out on the bed with a dressing gown to match, neither of which had previously been in her possession. Her hair was brushed and plaited into a fat braid.
The fire was low as the weather was warming, so it was not chill air that made her shiver.
When the knock fell on the door, she expected it was another footman with yet another offering, but it was in fact—
It was in fact her husband.
Her husband, freshly groomed and buttoned up.
“A knock on the door?” Beatrice said. “And a cravat?”
He jerked his chin up against its tightness. “One of the footmen is quite good at this sort of thing.”
“Ducal valeting?” Despite the tidying up, he appeared ready to explode into dishevelment in an instant. “We shall put him entirely at your disposal.”
His expression was less than enraptured. “I suppose we are keeping them? All this talk of livery and such?”
“Your Grace,” she began.
“Oh, no. Do not address me that way.” He glared at the bed hangings. “I shall read the bloody letter.”
“You reading it will serve as my bridal gift.”
“I shall contrive to do better than that.” He slipped a finger under the cravat and began to loosen it.
“Well, then.” Beatrice gestured to the table. “There are cold meats and cheese and bread rolls,” she began, as he prowled toward her. “And cake.”
He smiled, a predatory thing that frightened her not at all. Rather, it made her feel hot all over; perhaps she ought not to have stoked the fire. “I will have my cake first, my salty little cake, and then we shall see what Ciara has prepared.”
“To what do you refer, Osborn?” It was a challenge to retain an imperious tone when stalked by so handsome a beast.
“Osborn. My night improves.” He stood before her and undid her braid. “You, Madam. I told you all about it the first night we lay together, but alas, you fell asleep. You are my cake, and I am keen to devour you.”
She ran her hands over his lapels, which for once did not require her attention. A salty cake? What nonsense. “I am sure I do not know what to say.”
“Then let us speak no more.” He took her chin in his hand.
Beatrice knew what such touch signified and turned her head. “As I have said, I do not like kisses.”
