Twelve years. Surely, Wilma hadn’t waited that long to…
“How do you stand it?” Tabetha asked, slightly in awe. “The waiting?” It was none of her business but… Twelve years!
“No one waits for twelve years.” The maid grinned. “That would like to kill us both.”
“But what about children?” This was none of Tabetha’s business but she couldn’t keep her curiosity to herself. “You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to, it’s just that—”
“A lady can keep track of her cycles. And in between those…” Wilma stuck a pin into Tabetha’s hair to attach a curl. “There are other things a couple can do… All it takes is a little creativity.” She winked.
Images sprang into Tabetha’s mind. Images of pictures she must have seen some time in her past. They were shocking. Scandalous. And… interesting.
“There.” Wilma stepped back to appreciate her handiwork. “I’ll go tell Mr. Chester that you’re ready for dinner, if you’d like.”
“Thank you.” Tabetha stared unseeing in the mirror. He wouldn’t be breaking his promise not to make love to her if they didn’t actually make love, now would he?
“Wilma?”
The maid turned around. “Yes, dear?”
“Would you mind helping me adjust this corset before you leave?”
Rock foundTabetha less effusive when he returned, although she looked even prettier than usual and well-rested. “I like your hair that way,” he offered.
She reached up and twirled one of the curls around her finger, and then lowered her hand to adjust the fichu tucked into her bodice. “The arrangements are set, then?”
“They are.” He stared at her. Something was different. Was that rouge on her lips? “Allow me to wash up, and we can go downstairs.”
“I’m in no hurry.” She fluttered one hand down her sleeve.
Stone stared at her and then shook his head. The nights were the hardest. He grimaced to himself—hard being a more-than-adequate word.
He poured water over his hands at the washbasin, dried them, dragged the linen over his face, and within moments, was leading his wife down the steps—carefully—very carefully.
The glance Tabetha sent him as they descended had him wondering if she remembered falling.
“Follow me, Mr. And Mrs. Chester.” Mrs. Hettrick met them at the bottom of the stairs, and Tabetha slid her hand in the crook of his arm. They walked behind the counter, through the kitchen, and past a storage pantry.
When Mrs. Hettrick finally opened a door, Stone wondered if they’d be dining in the mews.
“Oh, but this is lovely!” Tabetha enthused. The private dining room was cozy and only two settings had been laid out. Candles flickered on the table where a bouquet of fresh flowers had been placed beside several covered dishes and a bottle of wine.
“Pull the bell pull if you need anything else.” The older woman gestured toward a rope in the corner. “I’ll leave you two alone for now then.”
She curtsied in Tabetha’s direction and then quietly closed the door behind them.
He’d not said a word to anyone about who Tabetha really was and yet these people not only adored his wife, but they had somehow recognized the fact that she was a lady.
Stone held her chair out for her, and she glanced over her shoulder with a grateful smile. “Thank you.”
He had learned that her smile could dazzle him. Never had a woman had the ability to manipulate him so easily.
Odd, that he didn’t even mind.
The drapes in their secluded dining room had been pulled open, revealing glimpses of the mews. A starry sky hovered over the stable and a few empty carts.
“It’s possible I’m going to miss Gretna Green.” He lifted a lid off of one of the dishes and then glanced up. She’d removed her fichu and…
Shadows from the candlelight danced on more creamy skin than she ought to be showing in public.
