She rose, her stomach knotting with apprehension. He stood and, as she reached the door, he motioned toward a large cabinet that dominated the wall beside the window, where a decanter, half filled with a dark-red liquid, stood on the top. The maid poured a glass and handed it to him.
Of course, after a meal, husbands preferred a moment away from their wives. And Olivia had to admit that she craved a moment away fromhispresence. The very air seemed to bend around him, as if the world yielded to his superior masculinity. And though it gave her a wicked little thrill deep inside her center, that thrill came hand in hand with fear.
Once inside her chamber, Olivia undressed then slipped into her nightgown. As she was brushing out her hair, there was a knock, and the maid entered.
“I’ve been sent to see to you, seein’ as ye’ve brought no maid of yer own.”
“I can take care of myself,” Olivia said, “but thank you.”
“Mrs. Smith insisted I give satisfaction.”
She glanced at the thin young woman in the dressing table mirror. Would she be admonished if Olivia sent her away?
“Very well,” Olivia said. “You may brush my hair if you wish.”
The girl picked up the hairbrush and ran it through Olivia’s hair in soft, gentle strokes.
“Thank you,” Olivia said. “It’s not often someone brushes my hair for me. I like the sensation.”
“You do, yer ladyship?”
Your ladyship…
Would she ever become used to a title?
“Doesn’t yer own maid brush yer hair?”
“I have no maid.”
“But ye’re a countess!”
“I wasn’t a countess yesterday.”
“Well, ye’re right lucky if ye don’t mind me sayin’ so,” the maid said. “A fine, big man the earl is, and good lookin’ with it. Ye’re in for a treat tonight!”
“I-I suppose so.”
“There’s nosupposeabout it!” the maid said. “The size of a stallion, I reckon, and he knows his way around a woman, I’m sure of it. Ye’ll be moaning his name all night, and I’ll not be surprised if ye’re bow-legged come the morning!” She let out a peal of laughter, and Olivia startled as the door opened to reveal the innkeeper’s wife holding a cup from which wisps of steam arose.
“Betsy Green! What have I told you about making bawdy talk? I could hear every word ye said—doubtless ye could be heard in the next village!”
The maid went as red as fire. “Sorry, Mrs. Smith.”
“It’s notmeye should apologize to.”
“Beg pardon, yer ladyship.”
“Yes, yes—now be off with ye, lass,” Mrs. Smith said. “And for yer bawdy talk, ye can help Tom rake out the fireplaces in the parlor. Mind ye don’t fool about with him though, lass—at least, not until ye’ve seen to those fireplaces.”
The maid gave a saucy grin, bobbed a curtsey, then slipped out of the chamber. Olivia cringed as she heard footsteps followed by whispering and giggling.
Heavens!Was the whole inn gossiping about her wedding night?
Mrs. Smith placed the cup on the dressing table. “A little hot chocolate, Lady Devereaux,” she said. “It’ll help ye relax. Will ye be wanting anything else before yer husband comes?”
Olivia’s stomach fluttered with anticipation, and she shook her head.
“No, thank you, Mrs. Smith,” she whispered.
