He had to smile. “You are in the gravest danger, my lady. You should learn to mistrust my temper.”
Rosina’s eyes softened, and his heart lurched. “My lord, it is my pleasure to obey you in all things, before you order me. I have already learned it.”
A spontaneous laugh was surprised out of Raith and he released her.
She got up, and he followed suit. “I will go to bed, sir. My sleep these last nights has given me little of rest, and I am sorely in need of it.”
Her smile was all too alluring. He saw it with a rise of expectation, though her words belied it. Was it an invitation? He spoke at random, the most obvious thing. “You must be tired.”
“Somewhat. I am unused to be in so vast a chamber quite alone.”
What in thunder did that mean? Nothing, in all probability — bar what his fervid desire wished to make it. He offered his arm. “Allow me to escort you to the stairs.”
She took it, but with a laugh. “I dare say I could find my way. Or is that another of the formalities obtaining in my new status?”
Raith led her to the door. “Do you find it so formal?”
“Excessively.”
“Enlighten me. What is the difficulty?”
“For one thing, the business of having a maid. My previous situation has made me apt to consider more the convenience of the servants than my own. Then, too,” she added, as they entered the lobby, “there is the elaborate arrangement of a bedchamber, a dressing-room and that antechamber that must be crossed before—”
She broke off abruptly, as if she was suddenly conscious of her words. Even in the gloom of the hall he saw colour creep into her face. She took her hand from his arm and made a dash to the stairs where she turned, regarding him with an expression he could not read. A smile, a quick “good night,” and, picking up her skirts, she was gone.
Raith watched her flee up the stairs with an increased tempo in his pulse. Was it possible? Could she truly have been indicating a wish for his attentions? It might have been a slip. He had noticed Rosina was apt to let her tongue run away with her, and stop in haste when she realised she was giving away what she had rather not.
But his own yearning was so strong that his instinct of caution wavered. Prudence dictated he hold aloof a while longer. For all her protestations of willingness to endure his grotesque countenance, it must take a high degree of courage to undergo the intimacies of the marriage bed. A difficult enough experience for any young wife. In their situation, it must be an ordeal Rosina dreaded.
Hell and damnation! Swinging away from the stairs, he went quickly towards the one habitable saloon, with the intention of ringing for Kirkham to bring him brandy. On arrival, he found the butler already there, placing a tray upon the table by one of the chairs near the fire.
“Your port, my lord. I thought perhaps you would be more comfortable in here.”
Raith thanked him, deciding that port was quite as effective, and less obnoxious. It would hardly ease the difficulty if he were to go to Rosina reeking of brandy. He cursed himself, and seized the bottle and a glass.
“I will serve myself, Kirkham. Go to bed.”
The butler bowed and withdrew, leaving Raith to pace the length and breadth of the saloon, absently sipping at the glass which he was nursing between his hands.
In the heat of his imagination, he had taken infinite enjoyment in the image of Rosina’s face, watching her responses, which must undoubtedly be as unlike reality as one could well imagine. He might forgo that pleasure. Do the thing in the dark? It would spare her blushes. He need not see the efforts she would make to conceal her aversion. Also, she would have the advantage of not seeing him.
A ripple of distaste went through him. She would not see, but she would feel. If he kissed her, she could not avoid the abrasion of his ridged cheek. The thought of kissing her threw spasms of want into his loins. Raith crossed to the tray and refilled his glass, tossing off the wine. Enough! He could not do it, and there was an end.
But the argument persisted in his head, and he remained downstairs for a further half-hour, with a vague thought at the back of his mind that if he left it late enough, Rosina would be asleep. Only a monster would then disturb her.
When his valet had completed preparing him for bed, however, he dismissed the man before climbing between the sheets.
“That will do, Paulersbury. Good night.”
The valet bowed. “Very good, my lord. May I suggest a bed gown, if your lordship intends to remain out of bed? The night is chill.”
When the man produced a silken morning gown with a handsome blue print, Raith felt his cheeks darken. Paulersbury had guessed his intent. Of course he must present himself before his bride decently clad. It took all his resolution not to snatch it from his valet and throw it aside. He allowed the fellow to assist him to don the thing, and then paced impatiently about his bedchamber as he waited for the valet to finish dealing with his clothing in the dressing-room.
At last he heard Paulersbury’s discreet cough, and the click of the outer dressing-room door that let onto the corridor. Yet now the way was free to Rosina’s bedchamber, Raith still hesitated. She would be asleep by this time. What was he doing, pursuing this course tonight? Only if he did not, perhaps he might disappoint her expectation, if she had indeed meant to issue a guarded invitation.
Bracing himself, Raith took up the single candle from the bedside table, and went through to the antechamber. Stealthily he opened the door to Rosina’s dressing-room. He listened within, but could hear no sound. The door opposite was shut, but a gleam under it indicated there was light within the bedchamber. She was expecting him!
Touching a hand to his cheek in a conscious gesture, he softly opened the door. To his dismay, its hinges protested with a mild shriek, and he quickly entered the room, shutting the door again with unprecedented haste.
