He laid the back of his fingers against her cheek. “I shall take you to them for the summer,” he said. “I need to go there anyway, Arabella.”
She smiled up at him, relieved. He was intending to be there too! He was not trying to be rid of her.
He took off his dressing gown and got into the bed beside her without snuffing the candles. Arabella wanted to remind him but did not like to do so. She was embarrassed. She closed her eyes tightly when he raised her nightgown and lifted himself on top of her. She positioned herself and drew in a breath in anticipation of his entry. She was thankful that the covers were decently over them.
She loved to feel him move in her. She relaxed and hoped that tonight it would last a long time, as it had on several occasions recently. But while her eyes were still shut fast, his rhythm slowed and he lifted himself on his elbows and forearms so that she knew he was looking down at her. It had happened before, but the candles had never been lit before. She opened her eyes unwillingly.
He was looking down at her, his eyes heavy-lidded. They were a mere few inches from her own.
“Arabella,” he said, his voice almost a whisper. “You are so very tiny. Do I hurt you with my weight?”
She shook her head. She could feel herself blushing. He was still stroking into her and withdrawing very slowly. His eyes had strayed to her mouth. Arabella ran her tongue nervously along her upper lip. And felt her breath catch in her throat when he lowered his head and kissed her with parted lips very gently and very warmly on the mouth.
“It is a hard fate to be married to a stranger and taken from your home and expected to serve him cheerfully, is it not?” he said softly, moving his head down so that he kissed her lightly on her cheek close to her ear. “I am sorry, Arabella.”
“But I have not complained,” she said, bewildered. “I try to do my duty, my lord.”
“ ‘My lord,’ ” he repeated, raising his head to look into her eyes again. His mouth smiled, though his eyes did not change. “You do your duty very sweetly, Arabella. I am a fortunate man.”
He laid his cheek against her hair and the rhythm of his body penetrated her own again in the final act of union. But Arabella no longer relaxed to enjoy it. She lay bewildered and unhappy beneath her husband, wondering what he had meant. He had let the candles burn for the first time. He had kissed her for the first time. He had talked to her for the first time while in her bed. But there had been an edge of something to his voice—bitterness, anger, sarcasm: she did not know what—that had taken away from the totally unexpected tenderness of his kiss. What was he trying to tell her?
He turned his face into her hair, sighed, and relaxed his weight on her. Arabella lay still and anxious. She watched him a minute later as he lifted himself away from her, sat on the edge of the bed, and reached down to the floor for his dressing gown.
He looked closely into her face for what seemed like a long time. “Thank you, Arabella,” he said at last. “Perhaps soon I will get you with child and your duty will be done for a year or more.”
His smile looked somewhat twisted as he got to his feet. “Good night,” he said.
“Good night, my lord.” Arabella’s throat hurt, and she realized that she was very close to tears. She was bewildered. And hurt. What was the matter? What had she done? She had never seen his lordship like this before.
It was a long time before she slept, troubled, her happy day in ruins, though she did not know quite in what way or why.
Lord Astor’s party made their planned visit to Kew the following afternoon despite the fact that a brisk wind and heavy clouds made the day chilly and gloomy.
Frances looked about her at the flowers and the temples, all very lovely and very impressive when one considered that they had been planned and built by the royal family. She shivered inside her pelisse and lowered her parasol before the wind could blow it inside out. She had not taken Theodore’s arm.
“You are not happy to see me, Fran,” he said. He spoke quietly. They were walking a little way ahead of Lord and Lady Astor.
“Not happy?” she said, darting him a conscious glance. “Of course I am happy to see you, Theodore.”
“I thought you might be homesick,” he said. “You were so upset the day of your sister’s wedding that I thought you might be unhappy here. It is a relief to find that you are neither. I have always wanted to be here for the Season, you know. Now I will be able to relax and enjoy myself without worrying about you.”
Frances darted him another look. “And you could not enjoy yourself if I had been unhappy?” she said.
“I hate to see you miserable, as you know,” he said. “We have always been friends, have we not, Fran? I would have felt obliged to stay close to you all the time if you had been homesick. After all, your sister cannot do so, as she has a husband to attend to. But I am happy to know that you will not need me every moment.”
“Are you?” Frances said. “I am very pleased to know that I will not be holding you back from your own enjoyment, I am sure, Theodore. I would never wish to be a burden to anyone.”
“Oh, no, no,” he said, “you are never a burden, Fran. You may call on me anytime you need me, you know. That is what friends are for.”
“I will not trouble you, you may be sure,” Frances said with a toss of the head.
“Well, as long as you know that you can if you must,” Theodore said cheerfully. “I do believe that must be the famous pagoda ahead of us. It is rather splendid, is it not?”
“Quite magnificent, sir,” Frances agreed.
“I say,” he said, looking down at her in apparent surprise, “I have not said anything to offend you, have I?”
“Me, sir?” she asked, her eyes widening as she looked up at him. “Offended? What could possibly have offended me?”
