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CHAPTERNINE
“Iwish we had time to properly prepare your trousseau,” Lizbeth told Edwina, comparing a few different shifts. She rummaged futilely through the chest of linens, looking for something else. “Perhaps, some nice silk or lace. Everything you own is so practical.”
Sitting on the edge of her new bed, Edwina picked at her nails nervously. Beside her, the dress the Duke had mentioned to her still laid on the bed. She could not help but admit how exquisite it was, pale lavender silk, trimmed with Brussels lace. She would have loved to wear it, had she been gifted it under different circumstances. The Duke had not mentioned the dress again.
“It is a bit of a shock to think that a man might finally see my underclothes,” she finally said out loud. “All I have ever been told is to be modest and pure. I come to my marriage bed knowing nothing.”
“Poor child,” Lizbeth breathed, folding a shift over her arm. She came to sit on the bed next to Edwina and took one of her hands into her own. “You do know how a child is made, do you not?”
Edwina blushed furiously. “I have a general understanding of the technicality. Not so much the application.”
“It is generally better if you want it,” Lizbeth recommended. “Do try to relax, be eager. Though, it may hurt the first time.”
“Hurt?” Edwina asked fearfully. “Why would it hurt?”
“Just the first time,” Lizbeth tried to reassure her. “When you’re a virgin. But it gets easier, especially if there is respect and desire. If you do not desire your husband and he is not attuned to your needs, it can be uncomfortable.”
“How do you know all this?” Edwina asked. Lizbeth stood, avoiding her gaze.
“Ah, well, you pick things up when you chat with other women. It is a shame you well-bred ladies are discouraged from talking about these things. You would be better off to have insight from married women.”
“Do you think His Grace will be attuned to my needs as you said?” Edwina asked nervously. “What does that even mean? What are my needs in the marriage bed?”
A red flush came over Lizbeth’s cheeks as she folded the linens, placing them back in the chest. “I don’t know how to say it properly, Your Grace, so may I be blunt with you?”
“Of course, please,” Edwina allowed, leaning forward to listen to her.
Lizbeth sighed, tried to speak, then stopped, only to repeat the same process again, her discomfort apparent. “Ladies have desires too, Your Grace. The way a man touches you, shows you affection, and kisses you can build up all that desire. When he does, it makes it easier for him to lie with you, and you may even find your own…”
“Own what?” Edwina asked breathlessly.
“A sort of…” Edwina raised an eyebrow, perplexed by Lizbeth’s lack of verbosity.
“Release. Pleasure. Ecstasy,” Lizbeth rushed.
Intrigued, Edwina asked, “What is it like?”
Lizbeth shook her head furiously. “You must see for yourself, Your Grace. It is different for each woman, so I have heard. And I hope His Grace shows you that sort of attention.”
Edwina sighed sadly. “I do not suppose he will. He said that our relationship must be a business arrangement only, just to produce an heir. It sounds so transactional. I do not suppose my desires are relevant to the business at hand.”
Pressing the last linen back down into the chest, Lizbeth closed the lid to the trunk and snapped the latches closed. She stood, the shift still hanging over her arm.
“Let us get you presentable for your husband,” Lizbeth said, gesturing for Edwina to stand. “Shall I put the other dress away?”
Edwina nodded, and Lizbeth helped her to undress from her evening gown and shift. After supper, the Duke had suggested Edwina retire to her room, making no mention of accompanying her. However, she could only assume that he would visit her to consummate their marriage. She left the door adjoining her suite to his unlocked and eyed it as Lizbeth put away her gown.
“I’ve brought up some warm rose water,” Lizbeth said, breaking the silence. “You can wash up a bit.” Edwina went to the basin, using a cloth to scrub her skin, the fragrance of the roses perfuming the air.
“And a little bit of perfume,” Lizbeth added, once Edwina had finished. Lizbeth handed the bottle to Edwina, saying, “Dab a little on your neck and between your breasts.”
Blushing, Edwina did as instructed, and Lizbeth handed her the shift she had chosen that had the smallest bit of knitted lace trim. Gooseflesh rose on Edwina’s arms, even though she did not feel cold. She wondered if the Duke would notice the perfume on her at all or if his focus would be solely on his duty.
“Everything will be fine,” Lizbeth said, rubbing her upper arms as she faced her. She met her gaze evenly. “Do try to relax. But if he in any way hurts you, do not hesitate to cry out for me. I will not be far.”
Feeling tears prickle her eyes, she threw her arms around Lizbeth. “I am so scared.”
“You will be all right,” Lizbeth whispered, stroking her hair. “You will be all right.”
