Despite his almost animalistic need for her, Maxwell insisted on doing everything properly.
Or as properly as he could manage.
He attended the remainder of the wedding breakfast, and Thalia sat very coyly beside him, opting not to dance with anyone else.
He had vowed to himself that this marriage would be about protecting her and no more, but he had already broken that promise, and he couldn’t quite bring himself to regret it. Not when they were here, he had the sounds of her pleasure in his ears, and every few minutes she turned to look at him with heat in her eyes.
“We ought to discuss what the next few months will look like,” he said as soon as they waved their final guest away.
“Yes, indeed!” Lydia said from behind them, oblivious to all the many ways Maxwell wished he were elsewhere, at least for now. “You will have to go on a honeymoon, of course.”
Thalia exchanged an amused glance with him. “A honeymoon? I hadn’t realized you’d planned something so… indulgent.”
“I haven’t,” he said.
All his focus had been on getting married; now she was here, and his, he sent his thoughts to what he wanted next.
Time with her. Preferably with no one else around. They would have to accustom themselves to each other.
Lydia folded her arms. “You ought to dosomethingto celebrate your marriage, Max. The duchess deserves that much.”
The duchess. Maxwell glanced at Thalia to see how she was taking the title. He was gratified to see her smile, as though rather than receiving a shock, the use of her new title came as a delightful surprise.
“I am perfectly happy without one.”
“We will have to visit Marrowhurst Hall,” he said without thinking. “That will be your home too, when we are not in Town.”
“Is it in good hunting land?” Thalia leaned against his arm.
“No, but I have a hunting box in Leicestershire if you want good hunting.”
“I want to see it all.”
“Tomorrow,” he promised, much in the same way he had promisedlater, and he could almost see the way her blood heated.
He loved being able to do that to her. A single word, and she was ready to go, eager in a way few ladies had been without his having to woo them first.
His Thalia.
“Duchess,” Joyce said, gliding up to them and extending a languid hand. “How delightful you are now one of the family.”
Maxwell shot Joyce a sharp look, but she avoided his gaze, giving Thalia an unconvincing smile.
He had always known Joyce was not a fan of his getting married, and of the fact he had decided to wed Thalia at all—particularly now, with Lydia still on the market—but he had expected and hoped her to be more civil.
Still, Thalia smiled as though she had noticed no slight. “Thank you, Lady Rivenhall. I’m so pleased to be here.”
“Yes, I imagine you will do Lydia no end of good.”
“I hope so,” Thalia said.
Maxwell put a hand on the small of his wife’s back, and although her expression didn’t change and her smile never faltered, he could practically sense the way her attention zeroed in on him.
Good.
“It’s been a long day,” he drawled. “Why don’t we retire for the night?”
Lydia beamed at them both. “Congratulations, Thalia. I do hope we will be like sisters.”
