But she quickly shook out of the thought because she was not good at hiding her feelings and her expression might reveal too much. Fortunately, there was plenty going on to distract her. She concentrated on greeting their guests and making each feel welcomed.
People were always going to talk about her now that she was Duchess of Huntsford, but she hoped there would be some nice things said along with the disparaging remarks. She knew what it felt like to be given the cut and ridiculed. She never wanted anyone to feel this way when in her company.
To her surprise, a gentleman who introduced himself as a reporter from The Tattler showed up. Her resolve to be nice to everyone flew out the window. Adela curled her hands into fists and was prepared to bodily remove him all by herself, when Ambrose place a hand to the small of her back. “He is not here to harm us, Adela.”
“Then why is he here?”
“A bargain struck with the rag’s editor. He promised to run no more scandal pieces on us so long as I allowed him an exclusive report on our wedding.”
Her eyes widened. “But that is extortion.”
“On whose part? Mine or theirs?”
“Theirs, of course. You are utterly perfect.”
He cast her an affectionate smile. “Glad you think so, but I am hardly that. We cannot avoid being in the public’s eye, but we can– and I say this hopefully– exert some control over what is printed about us. Try not to tackle this fellow, will you?”
She shook her head and sighed. “Seems I have a lot to learn about Upper Crust politics.”
“You will master it in time. In the meanwhile,” he said with a glint of amusement in his eyes, “just look at me adoringly and keep out of fist fights.”
She laughed. “I shall do my best to oblige both of those requests.”
It turned out the reporter, a young man by the name of Mr. Hawkins, was an amateur archeologist himself. While Adela did not have time to engage in a lengthy discussion with him, Gory and Syd managed to keep the gentleman regaled with stories of their research findings.
Although Julius and Octavian remained ever watchful over her friends, they did not hover too obviously around them or interfere as they spoke to the reporter. That poor man was not likely to have much of a career at The Tattler, for he seemed too gentle and honorable for the usually seedy assignments. His editor was not going to print a dissertation on skulls, bones, or cadavers.
The day was a long one and the wedding breakfast was more of an all day affair with Ambrose’s kitchen staff churning out food as fast as they could, many in resplendent molds or elaborate pies. Adela expected they had tapped London dry of brandy, ale, champagne, and ratafia punch since the Upper Crust knew how to consume their spirits. But everyone stayed merry enough and the musicians remained to the very end since many guests enjoyed dancing and did not want the music to stop.
It was almost midnight by the time everyone left, including Syd and Gory who were to remain with Eloise for at least another night. Ambrose’s brothers had chosen to sleep at their gentlemen’s club even though the Thorne townhouse was enormous and would easily accommodate all of them.
“Out of the question,” Julius said, chuckling when she suggested they need not move out on her account.
Octavian merely arched an eyebrow.
She sighed. “Very well, but Ambrose and I shall be leaving tomorrow morning for Devonshire. I hope you will come by to see us off.”
Julius bowed gallantly over her hand. “Wouldn’t miss it, Your Grace.”
Once they left, Adela’s heart began to race faster.
The house was suddenly quiet, only she and Ambrose standing in the hall now that his head butler had locked up the house and secured the windows for the night. The candles in the chandeliers and wall sconces had all been doused, leaving them standing together by the light of a lone candle Ambrose held in his hand and the filtering silver glow of moonbeams shining upon the marble floor.
The silence struck Adela.
She was alone with him…completely alone for the very first time.
He held up the candle to illuminate their way as they climbed the stairs to his bedchamber. Well, she assumed this is where he was leading her when he took her hand and said, “This way, love.”
She had never been upstairs in his home, certainly never seen any of the bedchambers, much less his. Her belongings had been moved over in the morning during the church ceremony. She knew the duke’s suite was at the end of the hall. But he paused just short of it and released her hand to open another door. “These are the duchess quarters.”
She glanced up at him in surprise. “Oh. I thought…that is…”
He smiled, his face exquisite by candlelight. “There’s a lot we did not have time to discuss. I want you in my bed, Adela. But this is all new to you and I do not want to push you into sharing it with me every night.”
“I see. I suppose you like your privacy.”
He shook his head. “No, it is you I am thinking about. You will likely not believe me, but I enjoy having you around. In truth, it wasn’t very long after meeting you that I felt the need acutely, as though a part of me was missing whenever you were not by my side.”
