Reaching to take the scented caked bar, a sparkling flash caught and held Bethany’s gaze.
The ring was possibly the most beautiful piece of jewelry she’d ever seen and likely a hundred times more valuable than anything she’d ever owned.
The fact that he’d thought to bring one, let alone something so incredible, so utterly spectacular, sent warmth spreading through her chest.
“Do you want to remove it while you bathe?”
“No.” Bethany submerged her hand into the water. “Thank you.” It wasn’t that she didn’t trust the maid, it was that she could never forgive herself if she lost it.
“The baroness’s room has all jib doors, and of course, the dining room… I believe the front drawing room and a few of the guest chambers.”
“Do you assist Lady Chaswick—His Lordship’s mother—often?” It was somewhat disconcerting that her mother-in-law hadn’t roused herself on such a momentous occasion for her son. The explanation he’d given her regarding his mother’s foibles had left her brimming with questions.
“Care of Her Ladyship falls mostly on her nurse. Mrs. Finch. His Lordship’s mother is lovely, really, but… just different. She never leaves the house, or has guests, or even corresponds with anyone. She suffers from the occasional bad day, but on her good days, she’s nice as can be.”
It sounded like Chase’s mother was prone to more than a few eccentricities. And he was an only child. Despite her resolve to not give into tender feelings for him, a wave of sympathy rose up in her.
He’d coped with his mother’s illness alone, with no siblings, since the death of his father.
Bethany closed her eyes, tilting her head forward so the maid could undo the simple knot at the back of her head, and then held her breath when warm water poured over her.
This new knowledge showed him in an entirely different light. He was not the carefree gentleman she’d considered him to be. Good heavens, he had hidden depths. How on earth was she supposed to not be affected by that?
She closed her eyes as another pitcher full of water cascaded down her back.
Before an hour passed, Polly proved more than up to the task of lady’s maid, dressing Bethany in one of her newer gowns, an evergreen silk. Although her hair remained partially damp, Polly had pinned several delightful braids into a stylish chignon atop her head. She’d insisted on leaving a few curling tendrils to drape along Bethany’s face.
Bethany stared at the mirror and purposely released the tension in her lips.
Soften, he’d said.
Chapter 12
A Romantic Dinner
“My wife is a vision.” Chase rose from where he’d been sitting as she entered the anteroom that separated her chamber from his through a third jib door she’d discovered.
“I’m not.” Bethany smoothed the material of her skirt, aware that Chase could hand out compliments as easily as she poured tea. Even so, the knowledge wasn’t enough to steal her enjoyment upon hearing it. Was this because he was so very charming or because she was that besotted?
Perhaps a little of both.
“I believe the proper response would be thank you.”
She glanced up. “Thank you.”
Chase stared at her for a moment and then offered his arm. “We’ll eat in the formal dining room as my servants insist the occasion of our wedding must be observed with a special meal.” His hair was newly combed and his face freshly shaven, causing the purplish bruising to stand out even more than before.
“Does it hurt?” Bethany peered up at it.
He patted her hand. “Not at all.” He was lying, of course.
“Which of them did it?”
“Someone who was merely acting in your brother’s place.” He cleared his throat. “It was well-deserved.” He cleared his throat a second time and led her into the corridor.
His arm was tense beneath hers, almost unnaturally so.
“Are you anxious?” It was an odd question to ask him, she realized. He was never anxious about anything. Her brother used to complain to her about Chase’s unflappable nature. She avoided meeting his eyes, making a show of noticing the fine workmanship of the moldings along the wall and then the balustrade looping down the staircase.
