"Yes. All noblemen have a library, even if it's just a collection of boxes painted with book titles." He snorted. "It's a requirement, you know. You may use it whenever you please. You won't find much order, but I promise you will find no false tomes."
She soon became engrossed in conversation with him, and they passed the time in pleasant companionship. He was a delightful traveling companion, and had many amusing stories about his time in Queen Victoria's court.
The carriage suddenly jerked to a stop in front of an inn, and she looked outside at the sky. How had it grown so late in the day? Surely dawn was only an hour or two past. Yet the sun didn't lie and it was high overhead. Her belly growled its agreement. It was definitely time for luncheon.
She shivered, not uncomfortably, as his hand wound itself around her waist under her cloak. His fingers brushed the outer curve of her breast as he helped her from the carriage. That single glancing touch stalled her breath, and she didn't manage to gasp for air until he'd escorted her into the common room. Such a wicked man! She had no idea how to cope.
Her belly tumbled with nerves as she thought about their wedding night, knowing this morning was only a taste of what she would experience when the lamps were turned down and the house was asleep. Her steps faltered, but she pressed forward, knowing it would happen whether she liked it or not. When she said a prayer over her meal, she would ask God to let him be kind.
∞∞∞
Lord Shepton led her into the spotless country inn. The aromas of baking bread and roast meat tickled her nose, making her stomach growl. She'd had nothing to break her fast, allowing herself only one slice of cake after their wedding. There hadn't been much in the larder for a wedding breakfast, and she'd wanted to make sure their guests had plenty.
The innkeeper spoke to Lord Shepton, tearing her away from her thoughts as he escorted them into a private room. "I have roast beef and new potatoes, my lord. There is also fresh bread my wife baked just this morning. May I serve you?"
Lord Shepton nodded. "That will be acceptable. Thank you."
"I'll have a girl bring refreshment while you wait." He bustled away, leaving Elizabeth alone with her new husband.
Lord Shepton held her chair, allowing her to sit. "Does that please you, Elizabeth?"
"It is a most suitable offering for a country inn, my lord." She supposed it was a polite question to ask of one's wife, and the fare sounded delicious. She looked forward to a meal that was not boiled cabbage or mutton.
Taking his own chair, he leaned back and gazed at her. She tried not to squirm under his scrutiny. "I asked if it pleased you, not whether it was a suitable offering."
"It is pleasing, my lord. We shall have a fine luncheon before we continue our journey. Do you think there will be fresh butter? We haven't…" She dropped her eyes, not wanting to finish her thought.
He stretched his arm across the table and tapped her chin with a gentle finger. "You haven't what?"
She huffed out a breath and lifted her head. She hadn't wanted to reveal the true state of her father's finances, yet she supposed he already knew. The house had revealed their circumstances easily enough. "We haven't had fresh butter in ages, my lord. I can make it, but our cow died some time ago, and my father refused to replace her."
"Rest assured, you shall have as much butter as you can eat in your new home. I daresay you won't even have to set your pretty hands to a churn for it."
She tried to move her lips into a smile as she hid her work roughened hands in her lap, knowing she'd have to remove her gloves to eat. "One should not eat too much, lest one grow fat, my lord." Winking, she sent a glance down at his flat belly.
He laughed and reached over to tickle her chin. "Minx. Why do you not call me Richard as I asked?"
"You didn't ask. You said that I could if I wished."
"Does it not please you?"
"Not presently. Perhaps I will change my mind."
"I want you to call me Richard, please."
Folding her hands in her lap, she tried to present a portrait of feminine docility. "Very well. I shall do so in the future. I'm afraid it is very difficult to call someone I don't know by their given name."
"Ah. That is quite understandable." He leaned back in his chair, peering at her intently. "Tell me what you think of the Principia Mathematica. A young lady with such an eclectic choice of reading material has surely devoured Sir Isaac's tome."
She blinked at the abrupt change of subject. "Which one? The Latin, or Motte’s English translation?"
A knock sounded on the door to their private dining room. The portal opened, revealing a young girl with a tray holding two glasses and a bottle of wine, along with cubes of yellow cheese and a small loaf of brown bread. "I hope this pleases you, my lord and lady. Please ring the bell if you need anything further." With a small curtsy, the girl darted away.
He reached for the tray and stole a bit of cheese, popping the morsel into his mouth. "I confess I haven't read it. I didn't know there was more than one."
Elizabeth couldn't help the laughter spilling free, but her face heated at his piercing stare and she put a hand over her mouth. "Please forgive me, my— Richard."
"Tell me about the one you found most interesting."
"That would be the third one; De Mundi Systemate. Motte’s translation would be The System of the World. It is fascinating because it explains a great deal about modern astronomy."
They had a delightful conversation while they waited for their meal, and she found him to be a charming companion, though perhaps not as well read as she might prefer.
She tossed an orange up in the air and watched as it reached the apex of its flight and fell back into her hand. "Do you see? It's Sir Isaac's third law of motion. It's the most easily demonstrable, though one may use a formula to describe it."
He stared at her blankly. She huffed out an irritable breath that made him chuckle. "I'm sorry, my dear. I rather think you have read too much. Your intellectual gifts are astonishing for one so young."
"You aren't so old, my lord. You're younger than my father, at any rate."
"Quite so, but I'm afraid I claim a decade over your tender years."
The innkeeper bustled in with their meal and she straightened in her chair as the man served them. She said nothing as he left them alone, knowing that she should have kept to more appropriate topics. Instead, she'd been a ninny and gotten herself dragged into a conversation that bored her husband. She wished she'd taken the time to pay attention to the social graces, such as witty conversation, but it had never seemed important before. While she'd desperately wanted to marry to escape her father, no man of her acquaintance would have offered for her without a dowry.
"I apologize most humbly. I shall endeavor to keep my reading to a more acceptable subject in the future."
"No, I expect I shall learn to enjoy your unusual thoughts. You may purchase as many books as you like."
"That is very generous of you. Thank you." She would be sure to return Mr. Harding’s generosity and extend the earl’s largesse to him, despite the distance. The kindly bookseller had inadvertently completed her comprehensive education.
She cut her food into tiny bites, as befitted her new station. His gaze made her dreadfully uncomfortable, but she knew a true lady would never show such a thing as discomfort with one's dining partner.
"We shall reach Bartholomew Manor after supper, but I'll have someone prepare something light for us."
She took a bite of beef before answering. "Thank you. This is delicious, though. I may not be terribly hungry."
Elizabeth tried to think of more appropriate topics of conversation, but the only thing that came to her was the weather. Aside from a few halfhearted tries to begin discussion on something he might find appropriate, she gave up and finished her meal in silence.
Once they'd finished their wine, he offered his arm and escorted her outside to their waiting carriage. As he helped her inside, he reached under her cloak and pinch
ed her bottom hard enough she was sure she would have a bruise. Elizabeth stiffened, but said nothing. It would not do to react and draw attention to herself, and she had no intention of encouraging the behavior. The groom's eyes were turned toward the barn, letting her know he hadn't seen her husband's scandalous act. The pinch had hurt, and tears prickled in her eyes at the humiliation. She wanted to slap him for his cheek, but settled for clenching her fists in her lap.
"The gardens surrounding your new home are quite fine in the spring, my dear. I hope you will enjoy them."
"I'm sure I shall."
"There is a hedge maze with a folly in the center, and an orchard with all manner of fruits. My cook makes the most delectable preserves from the pears."
"It sounds lovely. I look forward to sampling her work."
They spent the remainder of the journey talking about inconsequential things. The weather took all of five minutes. Lord Shepton tried to turn the conversation to other books she'd read, but she feigned ignorance to avoid displeasing him. If she was careful, he would have no reason to chide her for her reading ever again. The thought of living like she had in her father's house saddened her, though it didn't appear that Lord Shepton cared what she read as long as she didn't discuss it. That was better than she had before, and she resolved to maintain that delicate state as best she could.
Her mind kept returning to that humiliating pinch. It was infuriating he would take such liberties in front of others, but her promise to obey her new husband silenced the castigation she wanted to give him. She could not understand his behavior at all. He was charming but turned into a beast at a moment's notice before charming her once more. It was all so very confusing, and she wondered if she'd made a mistake accepting his scandalous offer.
The sky was dark with a late harvest moon low in the sky as the carriage jerked to a halt in front of his house. He climbed out before the footman opened the door, turning to grasp her waist and lift her from the carriage. "It's too late to greet the servants. You may do so tomorrow morning after breakfast. I shall have supper brought to our chamber."
She nodded and allowed him to lead her into the house.
"Welcome home, my lord." The butler was a dour man with thinning gray hair and dark eyes set deeply into his cadaverously pale face. He gave her a single dismissive glance and turned to face his master.
She'd never met a person for whom she'd developed such an immediate dislike. Her feelings didn't spring from his attitude, but rather from the way his eyes traveled over her body in the brief time he glanced at her. She shivered in distaste, but allowed him to take her cloak and gloves.
Lord Shepton took Elizabeth's hand and laid it on his arm. "You and the rest of the servants will have a formal introduction tomorrow, but this is my Countess, the former Miss Elizabeth Stratton. Have a light supper for Lady Shepton and I brought to my chamber in half an hour, Stevens."
"Of course, my lord."
Richard tugged her up the stairs in his wake. He dragged her into his bedchamber and slammed the door behind her then pulled her into the center of the room. Stalking around her like a wild beast, he asked, "What happened to my cheerful, articulate traveling companion, I wonder?" He stopped in front of her and trailed a hand down her breastbone.
"I believe she went away when you pinched her bottom in front of the groom, husband." She allowed the touch and didn't back away. She'd wed him, and it was his right to do as he wished, even if it embarrassed her.
He barked out a laugh and shook his head. "Touché, my dear. It is a lovely bottom, and I simply couldn't help myself."
"Indeed. It would probably be best if you endeavored to help yourself to a greater degree in the future."
He loomed over her and whispered across the shell of her ear. "Perhaps I shall." He trailed his lips down to the tender skin under her ear, and she shivered at the sensation of his warm breath on her flesh.
She gasped and he drew a gentle fingertip across her jaw. "So sweet," he whispered as he claimed her mouth for their first kiss as husband and wife. He tasted of the wine they'd sipped in the carriage and something spicy that made her want more. She tangled her tongue shyly with his. He pulled away, and she looked down at her feet, mortified by her response.
"Did I do it wrong? I simply copied what you were doing." She gestured up at his mouth and gave him a small smile. "Will you kiss me again? I think I liked it."
His jaw tightened, and he didn't say a word. She blushed furiously and lowered her head, his penetrating gaze discomfiting her. "I'm sorry. That was very forward of me, but I've never been kissed, you see, and I confess I don't know the mechanics of the act."
"I'm glad you enjoyed it, my dear. Shall we try again?" He bared his teeth at her in a grin, but the expression didn't reach his icy eyes.
Shivering against his hard glare, Elizabeth nodded and tried to smile, tilting her head up to offer her lips to him. He claimed her mouth once again and placed a large hand on the back of her head to hold her still. His lips were soft and warm, and her eyes slid shut in pleasure. Almost without her awareness, his free hand picked at the laces at her back.
A sharp knock rattled the door, and she jerked away, her hand flying to her mouth as her face grew hot. She spun around and cleared her throat. "I expect that is our supper. Shall I answer it?"
Chapter 3
Marriage, n: the state or condition of a community consisting of a master, a mistress, and two slaves, making in all, two.
Ambrose Bierce
Elizabeth counted herself a sensible girl, but her new husband's kisses knocked her good sense from her head with one brush of his full lips upon hers. Matilda had refused to share what kisses were like, and she hadn't dared ask Lily. Should she have pretended to not enjoy his kisses?
She had a fairly clear idea of the mechanics involved in a wedding night. She had watched animals, of course, and the village physician had often looked the other way when she purloined his references. Lord Shepton would take her virginity with the stiff member under the fall of his trousers, and she knew that it would probably hurt a bit. She did not know how to react. Should she feign enjoyment if she didn't like it? Or should she pretend disinterest if she did like it?
She wondered if she should ask him, but the thought of speaking on the subject mortified her. It was not at all appropriate supper conversation. The footman served her a bowl of soup and she smiled her thanks, but he didn't meet her eyes. After setting the rest of the dishes on the table, he departed, closing the door softly behind him.
She dipped her spoon into the hot broth and took a sip. "This is very good. Your cook is gifted."
"Your cook as well, my dear. You may speak with her tomorrow."
Elizabeth nodded and sipped from her spoon once again. "Are you upset with me?"
"Should I be?"
His eyes bored into her, and she looked down at her food, unable to meet his frigid stare. "I don't know. You seem angry, and I don't know why."
"What would you do if I was angry?"
Her belly roiled uncomfortably. She wasn't sure how she'd managed such a feat before bedtime, but it was clear she'd made him angry. "I should think I'd apologize and try to fix the situation."
"That is a very good answer, Elizabeth. It is exactly as a wife should do." He reached over the table and tipped up her chin. "Don't fret. I am not angry at you. If that should change, you shall be the first to know."
He didn't meet her eyes as he spoke, and she suspected he hadn't told her the truth. Either he was angry, or she would not be the first to know. She wasn't sure which he lied about. More importantly, who would be the first to know, if not her? "That is a comfort." She pushed the food around on her plate. Between their heavy luncheon and her unsettling thoughts about her new husband, she had no appetite and could only finish the delicious soup and a bit of bread.
"Tell me," he waved his fork at her, his blue eyes warming as his lips turned up into a smile. "What occupies your time when you are not reading books ina
ppropriate for a young lady?"
She refrained from mentioning that they'd had this conversation on their journey. "I don't think they are inappropriate. They are simply unusual," she murmured. "Those Gothic penny dreadful novels are far less acceptable for a young lady."
"It sounds as if you've read a few."
"My friends at home liked them. I decided to read a few to see what all the fuss was about." She leaned back in her chair and sipped her wine. "I suppose they provide entertainment, and I can see the appeal. They aren't difficult to read, and there is usually a dark and handsome rake involved who menaces the innocent and rather scatterbrained heroine in a moldering old castle in Wales or Scotland. I understand that some have a mystery or a supernatural occurrence that gives the hero ample opportunity to protect the fair damsel until they fall in love."
"Do they hold appeal for you?"
She grinned, shaking her head. "I only read two. I thought it was satire at first. I suppose that sort of literature is wasted on me." Sighing, she continued, "I'm afraid that I laughed very hard at one scene in which the young woman raced through the drafty old castle in nothing but her nightclothes because she'd been frightened by the creaks and bumps of all such old homes."
She took a moment to look out the windows, but the dark night allowed no view of her surroundings. "The idea of the characters suddenly falling in love after their adventure was amusing, but my friends didn't take kindly to my humor."
"Do you not believe in love? Most young girls do."
His knowing grin made her uncomfortable, and she wasn't sure how to answer. "I don't know," she began. "I see it as an ideal, but perhaps unattainable. I don't believe romantic love exists."
"That seems a rather cynical view for someone so young."
She thought about that for a moment as she remembered Lily's pain. Confessions of love had done her friend much harm, and she couldn't remember her parents speaking with each other, much less professing tender emotions. "It's possible I simply haven't seen it. Have you ever been in love?"
Wicked Deception (Wicked Magic Book 1) Page 3
