She poured herself a cup of tea and wandered over to the window as she drank. As usual, there was a lot of hustle and bustle going on in the courtyard.
A groom walked by leading a jet-black horse towards the pasture. Two milk maids with full pails of milk walked by, chattering away as they headed towards the kitchen.
Helena watched them go, wistfully wishing that she was as carefree as they looked.
The chimney sweep with a bucket of soot on his head ambled down to the bottom of the garden to dump his cargo in a pit. Mrs. Owen suddenly appeared below, haranguing the milk maids about taking their time, while the gardeners got on with clipping the hedges and chopping off dead leaves, spreading manure, and watering plants.
It was all very… domestic. Everyone seemed content. Everyone knew their place.
Everyone except me. Where do I fit?
A knock sounded at the door. She whirled around, eyes wide, then looked down at her wrinkled shift.
Is it Silas?
She smoothed down her hair. “Come in.”
The door opened and Amelia stuck her head inside, a big grin on her face. “Good morning! Your lady’s maid said you were having breakfast in here and alone. I thought I’d join you.”
Helena smiled, “That’s very kind of you. I still have some boiled eggs and ham as well as kippers. No bread though.” She shrugged.
Amelia skipped into the room. “That’s all right. We can always send for more. She picked up the bell and rang it before plucking a boiled egg from its cup and beginning to peel it. “So, how was your wedding night?”
Helena almost choked on her tea.
Silas pondered George’s advice as he made his way to his study.
He was expecting some correspondence from London to do with a certain apothecary.
For a long time, the home office had assumed he was merely supplying household simples to the Porters but on a hunch, one of Silas’s men had decided to stay and watch the place instead of following James to his club.
The result of that was him witnessing a meeting between the apothecary and one of the men James had met with earlier. Silashad sent to London for everything that was known about this particular apothecary.
He was expecting those papers this morning. Had he not felt that they were of particular importance, he would have sought out Helena right away. But he put that off for later.
Nevertheless, he did stop a footman to inquire about her whereabouts.
“Her Grace and Lady Amelia are in her suite. They were having breakfast together, I believe, Your Grace,” he was told.
Silas nodded in satisfaction. If there was anyone who could keep Helena occupied for the time being, it was his sister. Later on, he thought he might take her riding and show her the extent of his property.
He entered his office and was gratified to find the papers he was waiting for on his desk. He sifted through them, unable to focus completely. His mind kept jumping about, to last night and the unexpected intensity of their lovemaking, to earlier, when she was standing at his side, looking like a vision, saying ‘I do’ as if she meant it.
He kept coming back to their kissing and his lips tingled with the desire to do it again. His hands twitched with wanting to touch her again. His mind went from being boggled that she was his wife, to fear that he would kill her spirit and spoil this thing that was blossoming between them.
He knew what a terrible job he’d done with Amelia. That she still hadanyspirit at all was a testament to their shared blood, and the memory of their parents. He did not want to test the hardiness of Helena’s spirit, tough as he knew she was.
He wanted her to experience something different with him. Something softer, gentler, more loving. He wanted her to feel safe.
He did not recognize himself.
Spending two hours fielding Amelia’s questions about what happened in a marriage bed was not how Helena had envisioned spending her first day as a married woman.
Even after Patricia returned to running her bath, filling the water with lavender petals and rubbing Helena’s skin with rosemary and almond oil until the soreness disappeared, Amelia still insisted on sitting by her side, chattering away.
“Your lips are very swollen.” She arched an eyebrow, looking keenly at Helena’s mouth and making her want to purse her lips in order to hide them.
“Oh, oh are they? I hadn’t noticed. It must have been something I ate,” she stammered, struggling not to blush or think about Silas’s kisses.
