“And what about me? What must I do to sell this tale?” Vivian’s eyes drifted to his lips, her muscles tensing beneath his touch.
The scent of roses filled the air between them, muddying the waters of his mind. He swallowed and shook his head.Focus.“All you need to do is look at me—no, not like that. As though your eyes are drawn to mine by some invisible force.”
“And that will be enough?”
He thought he heard breathlessness in her voice.
“Trust me, Vivian, that is all you will need.” He let his eyes drift across her face.
That is all I will be able to take.
It was going to be alonghoneymoon period.
Chapter Nine
“Is it normal to be this nervous?” Vivian paced around her room, intentionally avoiding looking into the mirror in the corner.
Her room, like the rest of Elington Manor, her new home, was opulent yet comfortable. The mahogany bed was grand and a little intimidating; the sofa by the fireplace was warm and inviting, surrounded by a scattering of armchairs.
It was a room that should have been full, but with only Vivian and Henrietta in it, it felt empty. Her eyes drifted to the walls, and she wondered if a painting or two could make it feel more inviting.
What is the point of decorating if you might lose it all at any moment? Why get comfortable only to have it snatched from you?
Vivian’s hand rested on her chest, over the dressing gown that covered the nightdress she had bought at the modiste’s.
Across from her, Henrietta gave up pretending to embroider and instead clasped her hands in her lap. “Every bride is nervous on her wedding night, my lady.”
“I feel like I am about to be sick.” Vivian clutched at her stomach as her heart thundered in her chest.
“Sip on this tea; it will calm your nerves.” Henrietta pointed to the mug.
“I do not think tea will help, Henrietta. I have no clue what I am doing. Look at me! I look like a Covent Garden nun—you know, one of those women who—” Vivian flushed and was grateful when Henrietta interrupted her.
“Do not be silly; you look exactly as a young lady ought to on her wedding night.”
Henrietta tsked, but Vivian noticed that there were faint spots of red on her maid’s cheeks. “Besides, while you are in that dressing gown, you are practically decent.”
“If you think this is decent, I fear what you might dress me in tomorrow.” Vivian swallowed and glanced toward the hidden doorway behind the painting. “Goodness only knows what will happen if I run into a servant looking like this.”
“You are the mistress of this house; they will know better than to question you.” Henrietta waved a hand in the air.
“They need not question me if I die of embarrassment.” Vivian imagined running into the kindly housekeeper, Mrs. Bird.
The sight of me might kill her.
“You do not need to be embarrassed. You are a married woman fulfilling your wifely duties.” Henrietta gave Vivian a frank look.
Panic swelled within her chest. “But whatarethese duties? I know I am supposed to bear him an heir, but how?—”
“He will show you what to do. Just make sure you kiss.” Henrietta gave Vivian a smile that did absolutely nothing to soothe her rapidly fraying nerves. “The rest will follow.”
Vivian glanced toward the door and then at the clock in the corner. “What if he is not in?”
“Then you will wait for him in his room.” Henrietta handed her a candle. “It is his bedroom after all; no doubt he will return to it sooner or later.”
“Am I just supposed to stand there like some fool until he does?” Vivian could just picture it now.
The things one must do to secure a future for oneself.
