“Of course not. You may as well be comfortable. But remember, you must also be alluring.” Henrietta gestured to Vivian’s night robe. “I suggest waiting in bed. That will be best.”
“The bed?” Vivian’s voice rose to a pitch she had not realized she could make. “Is that not… is it not a bit presumptuous?”
“My dear lady, you are going to the man’s bedroom in the middle of the night. I think we are well past presumption.” Henrietta squeezed her hand. “Besides you… Well, you just focus on bringing him to you. Think about how you are arranged on the bed, and which features you may wish him to see first. Men usually have a sort of preference, though it is hard to say what the Marquess’s might be.”
“A preference?” Vivian gaped at her lady’s maid. “For a feature of my body?”
“I suggest you choose the bits that you feel are most inviting. You are trying to tempt him after all.” Henrietta glanced at the clock and then turned back to face Vivian. “But do not be too obvious; you must leave something to the imagination after all.”
“If that is the case, I am in the wrong nightdress.” Vivian tried not to think of just how little the garment hid.
“That is why you have a dressing gown. Though, do not have it fastened so tight when you enter his room.” Henrietta adjusted the gown, revealing more of Vivian’s skin than was decent.
“Surely I will be freezing if I arrive like this.” Vivian shook her head.
“Which will give you the perfect way to bring him to your side.” Henrietta opened the servant’s door and looked at Vivian like a proud mother seeing her child take her first steps.
Vivian would have been offended if her thoughts were not so preoccupied with what was waiting for her in her husband’s room.
But once this is done, you will be safe. No one will be able to take this from you.
“I will not be at the mercy of anyone else, not again.” Vivian rolled her shoulders back and straightened.
“That’s the spirit.” Henrietta squeezed Vivian’s arm. “You remember the way?”
“Yes. I think so.” Vivian glanced toward the corridor. “At the very least, I remember what his room looks like, so I will at least know if I have taken a wrong turn somewhere.”
Vivian took a deep breath and slipped into the servant’s corridor, praying harder than she ever had before that no one would run into her.
Her footsteps echoed as she wound through the passages, trying to remember whether to turn right or left. Once or twice, shestumbled, nearly falling. The candle sputtered, but thankfully did not go out.
By the time she reached what she thought was the right door, her heart was beating so hard and fast she could not even hear the echo of her footsteps. She was fairly certain it was mere seconds from flinging itself from her chest.
“I suppose if that happens, I will not need to worry about my future anymore.” It was not as comforting a joke once she said the words aloud.
She raised her hand and realized that it was shaking. “Should I knock? Surely it would be best to knock. But what if he is not in? Then I might knock and wait, and there would be no answer. But if I walk into his chambers, he might take offence. Or maybe he would like that?”
Men like him appreciate such boldness.Henrietta’s words played in her head.
“Bother and damn—do all women struggle with this sort of thing, or am I uniquely inept?” Vivian growled and, throwing caution to the wind, flung open the door.
It smacked against a wall, making her jump and nearly spill candle wax over everything.
That would be perfect. Greetings, husband; oh, do not mind the spilled wax. Let us make an heir.Even thinking it made Vivian want to curl into herself and vanish.
Before her was a large room, with a roaring fire in the hearth. Its light filled the space with a friendly glow that did nothing to soothe her thundering heart. She glanced at the bed and saw that it was empty.
Her stomach dropped, but she could not tell if it was with disappointment or relief. She blew out her candle and tiptoed toward the bed. She glanced over her shoulder, half hoping, half dreading that Thomas might appear.
He did not.
Vivian shivered despite the warmth of the fire and reached a hand toward the bed. Her mouth was bone dry as her fingers brushed across the decadent silk of the bedcovers, tracing the fine embroidery. Just touching it with her fingers felt strangely intimate.
“In for a penny, in for a pound, I suppose.” Gooseflesh covered her arms and legs as she gingerly crept onto the bed.
It was more comfortable than she expected, and she let out a breath she did not know she had been holding. She glanced toward the door, but it remained shut.
“The fire is lit, so surely he will return before long.” Vivian leaned back against the pillows. “Comfortable, but alluring. What does that even mean?”
