Right now Felicia’s assistance would be invaluable. Corinna’s wardrobe needed expanding. “Is there a dressmaker in the area?”
Felicia shook her head. “Not that I’m aware of. But there are some very fine shops in Truro.” Her eyes lit up with mischief. “Perhaps a shopping trip is in order.”
“Excellent idea.” He knew Corinna had a limited wardrobe. What woman didn’t love to shop?
Corinna looked from him to Felicia and back. The blue of her dress turned her eyes a smoky color that now darkened with suspicion. For a moment, he thought she would protest. Then she picked up her wine glass and took a sip instead, and he released the breath he hadn’t realized he was holding.
Once the ladies left them to their port, Brand spoke up.
“I know it’s too late to undo the past, but I wish you had said something in one of your letters.”
Marcus gave a self-deprecating laugh. “So do I. I have tried not to dwell on what she might have suffered the last five years, but it bothers me, nevertheless. I feel like I was careless with something very precious.”
They sat in silence as they sipped their respective drinks.
“Have you wondered why her brother might have wanted Douglas to think she had perished with her parents?”
Brand’s question was disturbingly close to thoughts that had kept him awake for most of the night, and Marcus had no answer.
“There is the likelihood that his father left something to her or Douglas that Gregory was reluctant to relinquish. If Douglas never returned to claim it and she knew nothing of it, Gregory need not volunteer it.”
“It’s possible,” Brand agreed. “Perhaps you ought to do some digging.”
“I plan to,” Marcus said as they finished off their drinks. “I also suspect that whatever Corinna’s father left for her, he named Douglas as her guardian. Her father had no illusions about his children.”
The rest of the evening passed quickly, and soon Marcus and Corinna found themselves alone in the sitting room of the master suite. Standing just inside the open door, he watched her wander the room, seemingly unable to settle anywhere. He understood her nervousness, but had no idea how to dispel it. Most young women had at least a female relative, if not their mother, to tell them what to expect once married. Corinna had neither.
And then there was the fact that they didn’t know each other very well. He was attracted to her, of that he was not in doubt, but he had no inkling of her feelings. The kisses they had shared had been on his mind constantly since, yet he knew she had no awareness of the turmoil they caused him.
It had not occurred to him that he might have to seduce his own wife. Yet he found himself seriously considering it. How would she react? Would it frighten her?
Corinna finally sank into a chair near one of the windows and glanced up at him, her hands clasped tightly together in her lap. The room had a bit of a chill to it and he was surprised she hadn’t alighted nearer to the warmth radiating from the fireplace, but he was thankful she had settled somewhere. He was struck by the uncertainty she exuded, and found himself responding to it. Closing the door behind him, he crossed the room and turned a nearby chair to face her, then lowered himself into it, his knees nearly touching hers. Leaning forward, he rested his forearms on his knees and stared into eyes the color of a misty fog.
“I hope,” he said with a smile, “that you do not really feel as lost as you look.”
Her answering smile was ambivalent. “I suppose I’m trying to decide whether I really ought to be here.”
He reached out and took her clasped hands in his. They were cold and he found himself rubbing them lightly between his own palms. “You are exactly where you ought to be.”
She looked at him for a long time, before she asked, “But is it where you want me to be?”
He smiled. “After the last two days, do you really need to ask?” She ducked her head as a blush stole up her neck. Resisting the urge to pull her into his arms, he continued, “I realize ours is an unusual marriage, but we should rub along well enough together. Many marriages begin with even less of a foundation than ours,” he explained. “At least we have a past, and something, or rather someone, in common. Although I’m not sure how including a lonely scamp in fishing trips and riding excursions qualifies as a past.”
Corinna bristled at his words, snatching her hands from his. “I don’t want or need your pity,” she snapped defensively.
Marcus was startled at her tone. He hadn’t remembered her being so sensitive, but perhaps there was a reason for it. He shook his head as he answered, “I only pity those who deserve it. You don’t.” She started to reply, but he forestalled her by continuing. “If you had stayed with Gregory and Ellen and allowed them to make your life miserable, I might have pitied you, but you didn’t.”
Corinna slumped in her chair and he wondered if the reference to being lonely had hit too close to home.
“I’m sorry,” she mumbled, staring down at her clasped hands.
“So am I.”
His response surprised her into looking up at him. “Why?”
He retrieved her chilled hands, engulfing them again in his larger, warmer ones. “Because I took Gregory’s word of your death as the truth. Because I trusted someone who I knew cared nothing for your or Douglas’s well-being. Someone who I knew would welcome the letter from me informing your parents of Douglas’s death.” Marcus’s voice had a hard edge to it and she heard the self-condemnation in his tone.
“It wasn’t your fault.”
He laughed humorlessly. “It might well have been. I should have at least written to Brand and asked him to verify it. I would never have survived in India if I hadn’t learned to verify as much information as possible before acting on it. With you and Douglas, I was careless and you suffered for it.”
She digested his explanation, before asking another question. “If we stay married, does that mean that we will have children?” The blood flooding into her cheeks was the only hint that revealed her chagrin. Her voice was calm and steady. If he hadn’t been watching her, Marcus would not have realized how difficult it had been for her to ask the question.
“I would hope so…eventually,” he replied, trying to still the response of his traitorous body at the vision of her naked in his bed. Procreating, he had a feeling, would not be a problem. Even the thought of her ripe with his child sent a thrill through him.
She remained silent, staring awkwardly down at their still intertwined hands. Marcus frowned.
“Do you not want children?”
Her head snapped up. “Yes, of course. I always thought I would love to have a large family.” Her voice trailed off.
“But?” Marcus supplied.
The red in her cheeks deepened, her eyes darkened with worry. “I-I don’t,” she paused and took a breath, “don’t know…how.”
Marcus would have grinned in relief if she hadn’t been so woebegone over her obvious lack of knowledge. Instead, he reached up and cupped her chin with one hand, smoothing his thumb over her cheek. The skin was soft, warm and delicate.
“You needn’t worry,” he told her solemnly. “When the time comes, I promise to tell you or show you whatever you want to know.” The hand he was still holding trembled within his grasp. “But first, we need to spend time getting to know one another, and learning to trust one another.”
She smiled tentatively, a mischievous light entering her eyes. “Does that mean you will kiss me again?”
Marcus couldn’t halt the grin that transformed his face, but he stopped short of laughing out loud. “Do you want me to?”
Small white teeth worried her full bottom lip even as she nodded, and Marcus was struck by the look of innocent curiosity in her eyes. He was suddenly reminded of how she had looked at him at fourteen, wide-eyed and curious, with a large dose of adolescent hero-worship thrown in for good measure. In many ways she was still that young girl, but in a woman’s body.
He rose to his feet, pul
ling her up with him. “Then how about if I kiss you good night.”
“Every night?” she suggested hopefully.
“Every night,” he agreed, his tone dry with amusement.
Taking her hand, he led her across the room. At the door to her bedroom, he turned her into his arms and lowered his head. Her eyes drifted shut at the first touch of his lips on hers.
When she sighed and melted against him, Marcus had to forcibly restrain himself from devouring her whole. His arms held her tightly against his chest, trapping her hands between them, yet they burned him where they rested.
Remembering the kisses they had already shared, Corinna found herself curious. Held against the hard wall of his chest, she parted her lips on a sigh when she felt the brush of his tongue, and sent her own questing. He tasted of brandy, not at all unpleasant, and Corinna thought she heard him groan at her tentative foray.
The temperature in the room rose, her own body melting like wax in the sudden heat as he molded her against him. Beneath her trapped hands, his heart beat fiercely and she thought she could hear it in her ears, see the rhythm in the brilliant flashes that appeared behind her eyelids as his mouth ravished hers.
When he raised his head, she didn’t know how she knew, but she knew he did so reluctantly. Lifting heavy lids, she stared up at him in wonder for a long time before he moved. His eyes burned as they took in her flushed cheeks and swollen lips.
Reaching behind her, he opened the door to her room.
“Good night, Corinna,” he said softly. “Sleep well.”
She murmured something complementary, then slipped inside and closed the door.
Corinna leaned back against the wooden panel, took a deep breath, and closed her eyes. How could she have been so bold with Marcus? She had all but demanded that he kiss her. And not just once, but every night!
Lifting her fingertips to her lips, she marveled they didn’t feel any different. Yet they did. She could still feel and taste Marcus’s lips on hers. Still feel the slide of his tongue against her bottom lip, and taste the brandy he had consumed earlier. She wondered if it was possible to become intoxicated after being kissed by someone who had imbibed.
Opening her eyes, she pushed herself away from the door and crossed the room to wake the dozing maid who had waited up for her.
Once the maid left her in the cream-silk-draped bed, she stared into the darkness and tried to put her life in perspective.
Just over two months ago she had been a penniless, desperate young woman who had turned to her old school headmistress for help. Now she was a countess and her husband was the one man she had carried a tendre for for as long as she could remember.
Douglas’s best friend had always been the hero in her dreams and imaginings. Now, he was her husband, and someday they would have children.
She smiled and was glad for the darkness because she was sure her expression must be one of idiocy, yet she could not help but feel a little smug at the sudden turn of her life. She would never have to worry about Gregory and Ellen again. Or Vincent. She would never wonder if her brother was looking for her, or if he or Ellen might find her somehow and force her back to Houghton Hall. She didn’t have to worry that Vincent might find her and convince the authorities she’d done something wrong. Gregory might be a wealthy and somewhat influential baron and have his uncle’s backing, but Marcus was an earl.
And his brother was a duke. Neither Gregory nor his uncle would care to come up against either of them. Of course, there was also the possibility that Gregory might claim an affinity for her that he had never felt, but Marcus knew better.
Sitting up, she brought her knees up and wrapped her arms around them, resting her chin on them.
It surprised her, but she now accepted that Marcus had felt responsible for her upon Douglas’s death. And she wished, once again, that she had written a letter right after her parents’ death. So much misery could have been avoided. Although, she would never regret the time she’d spent with her great aunt.
Marcus had promised to take her to London in the fall. Now that she would be a member of the glittering throng, she wondered if he would help her find the rest of her family.
It had long been her ambition to find her mother’s family. She had nothing to go on except that her great-grandfather had been an earl, and his wife’s name must have been Corinna. It wasn’t a very common name. Perhaps someone in the ton knew them, or of them. Despite her father’s family having scoffed at her mother and labeled her an adventuress, she knew that the story was true and she wanted to confirm it herself.
Perhaps she ought to ask the duchess. Knowing how the ton thrived on gossip, she might have heard her grandmother’s story. Even if she hadn’t, she might know someone who knew. Her spirits rose at the possibility.
Yawning, she settled back against the pillows and relaxed. Snuggling down under the covers, she drifted off to sleep, dreaming about finding her mother’s family at last.
Chapter Ten
Don’t let this go to your head, but you were right this time.
Amanda, Countess of Wynton, to her sister, Cassie, at Miss Ridley’s Academy for Genteel Young Ladies
Corinna was thankful she was already awake the next morning when the door to her room burst open and a whirlwind in the form of Caroline launched herself onto the bed.
“Mama says you and Uncle Marcus are married! How come you didn’t invite us?” she demanded.
Corinna stifled her amusement in the face of Caroline’s obviously serious question. “I’m afraid it was a long time ago,” she said, “Before you were born.”
Caroline stared at her for a long time and Corinna was certain she could see the wheels turning in the child’s head. “Then why didn’t you say so when you first came?”
Oh, to be a child again, where everything either is or isn’t. Corinna reached out and drew the little girl into her arms. “I’m afraid it’s a bit more complicated than just saying so,” she told her. “Are you truly put out with me?”
Caroline pouted. “Perhaps,” she said, “but Mama said it means that you will stay here when Kenny comes back. So I’m happy about that.”
“I hope so.”
Caroline’s reaction was more like what she expected, but Corinna still had no real explanation for why she hadn’t told them who she was from the first. At least not one the child would understand.
“How come Uncle Marcus didn’t know who you were when he came home?”
Corinna wondered how much to tell Caroline, before deciding on a truth. “The last time he saw me, I looked very different,” she explained, “so he didn’t recognize me. And then so much happened before I got a chance to tell him.”
“Why didn’t you tell Mama or Papa?”
Corinna smiled. “I thought it would be best to tell your uncle first.”
“Oh.”
Caroline seemed satisfied, but Corinna wondered what other questions were forming within the little girl’s agile mind.
“Caroline!” The duchess’s voice carried down the hall and into Corinna’s room.
Caroline turned toward the door so quickly that Corinna had to rear back to keep from being lashed by one of her braids. “Uh oh.” Scrambling off the bed, Caroline ran to the door. “In here, Mama.”
“I should have known,” the duchess said as she arrived in the doorway. She glanced inside and noted Corinna still in bed. “She didn’t wake you, did she?”
“No. She merely came looking for answers.”
Felicia looked down at Caroline. “You should not have left the nursery, young lady. Penny had no idea where you’d gone.”
Caroline’s shoulders slumped. “I wanted to see Corrie.”
Felicia sighed, then smiled. “Very well. Now you’ve seen her, so it’s back to the nursery with you.” As Caroline moved toward the door, the duchess said, “If you behave for Penny this morning, you may accompany us this afternoon to Truro for some shopping.”
Caroline whooped with glee t
hen sped off down the hall as Felicia turned to Corinna.
“I’ll have Brand spend the afternoon with Michael,” she said with a grin. “And Caroline will ensure that our trip to Truro will be interesting.”
Corinna laughed as she pushed back the counterpane and the duchess left, closing the door behind her.
Moments later there was a knock at the door and a young maid entered with a tray.
“Mrs. Barker didn’t know if you were up yet, m’lady,” she said, “but she sent me up just in case.”
Corinna smiled at the nervous young woman. “Thank you. Irma, isn’t it?”
The maid dipped a curtsy. “Yes, ma’am.” She picked up the pitcher from the washstand and headed for the door. “I’ll be right back with some hot water.”
“Wonderful. And would you tell Mrs. Barker that I would like to meet with her in the cliff parlor in an hour?”
Irma nodded and left as Corinna poured herself a cup of hot chocolate. “Mmmm.” A sound of bliss escaped as the warm, sweet liquid slid down her throat. “I could get used to this again,” she said to the room. It had been a very long time since she’d been brought chocolate first thing in the morning.
Once Irma returned with her hot water, she washed and allowed the maid to help her dress and put up her hair.
The time spent with Mrs. Barker was informative. She went over menus, asked about the household routine, toured most of the downstairs rooms, and assured the housekeeper that she would make few, if any, changes for now.
“And thank you for sending Irma up this morning,” she finished.
“Oh, you’re welcome, m’lady. If you approve, I would recommend her for the position as your ladyship’s maid.”
Corinna smiled approvingly. “Wonderful. I’m sure she will do nicely.”
Leaving the housekeeper, she headed up to the nursery to see how the morning went without her. She didn’t expect to find the duchess there playing a game with the children.
“Corrie, catch!” Caroline called as Corinna entered the large playroom.
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