“Now that yeare settled here at yer new home, he is certain to come to yer bed.” Effie, Harmony’s favorite cousin and now her lady’s maid, took down Harmony’s hair and prepared her for bed with the efficiency born from helping with her many sisters. “Mark my words, he will get ye with a bairn before the month is out.”
Harmony frowned at her reflection in the dressing table mirror. “I know we are strangers, but why would he marry me if he didna wish to touch me?” She held up her hand and spread her fingers. “This is the fifth night since we wed. Mam always warned that men would steal yer virtue so fast ’twould make yer head spin. I canna evengivemine away to my husband.” Still staring at herself in the mirror, she pinched her cheeks. “Am I too plain for him?”
“Ye are not plain at all, hen. Dinna even think such silliness.” Effie shrugged as she continued brushing Harmony’s long, wavy hair. “Ye smell nice. Yer teeth are good. I promise—His Grace must be one who prefers more privacy than most.” She grinned at Harmony in the mirror and winked. “Could be he wanted to be home so strangers wouldna be listening at the door. Reckon he makes a lot of noise?”
“Well, I dinna ken that, now do I?” Harmony snapped, then immediately felt guilty. “Forgive me, Effie.” She turned and caught hold of her cousin’s hands. “And thank ye ever so much for agreeing to be my lady’s maid. I swear I will never put on airs with ye.”
Effie gave her a sisterly hug. “Mama will welcome the coin. With Da gone now, she and the girls will be better for it—and ye know as well as I they are thankful for yer asking me.” She tugged Harmony up from the cushioned bench and nudged her toward the bed. “Off wi’ ye now. To bed to wait for yer husband while I head to mine to hug my pillow. Riding in that carriage with the rest of the staff traveling with His Grace wearied me to the bone.”
“They were kind to ye, aye?” Harmony worried about Effie fitting in with the duke’s longtime servants.
“Kind as could be,” Effie said. “They were a bit quiet, but I reckon that’s ’cause I am yer lady’s maid and considered a spy among the downstairs lot.” She headed for the door the housekeeper had pointed out as leading to the small bedroom reserved for the lady’s maid. “Take heart,” she called back as she left the room. “All will be well.”
“All will be well,” Harmony softly repeated as she eyed the door connecting her bedchamber with her husband’s. She rubbed her hands together, then wiped her damp palms on the linen chemise trimmed with enough lace and ribbons to be used as a fancy sitting room curtain. Her middle churned, threatening to send the glass of wine she’d had earlier back up. “Heaven help me. I must calm myself. It surely wouldna do for me to cast up my accounts when he does show.”
A sudden chilliness made her rub her arms and check the window. How odd was that? It was closed tight, but she’d felt a distinct breeze. The inn had been a drafty bit of stone and wood,but this was no draft. She clenched her teeth and glanced around the room, realizing what had caused the chill.
“Whoever ye are, go to the other side,” she whispered. “I dinna wish my new husband to know I have the sight.” As the seventh daughter of a seventh daughter, Harmony had helped many a lost soul in the village find their way to eternal rest. “On wi’ ye, now. I have enough to worry about without adding yerself to my misery.”
“Misery?” The voice was that of an older woman—a grandmotherly sort.
Harmony relaxed and smiled despite herself. “Aye, my misery and nervousness at being a new wife.”
“Our Ross would never cause you misery, Your Grace. He is a good and kind man. Handsome too, but you already know that, what with his dark hair and those snapping green eyes of his. He is strong. Protective. Please give him a chance. He so needs to be happy.”
Deciding it more prudent to keep her opinion about her new husband’s striking handsomeness to herself, Harmony slowly turned in a circle, attempting tofeelthe displaced spirit of the woman and ensure that the ghost meant no ill will. “Convince yer Ross to give me a chance,” she told the entity, “and I will do my best to give him the happiness he deserves.”
“Give you a chance?”
“Aye. I am willing—if he is.” She refused to go into detail regarding the unconsummated state of her union. That was no one’s affair but her own. Well, hers and Effie’s. Ross’s too, of course.
But if the spirit could help her, then that would be grand, indeed. She wanted to be a good wife—in more than name only. As soon as she’d heard his deep, cultured voice in her father’s inn, she’d been drawn to him like a bee tempted by spring’s first blossom. And he was a braw, bonny man. Hair as black as thedevil’s waistcoat. Tall. Broad shouldered. She pressed a hand to her chest, finding herself breathless at the thought of him. Aye, she would accept the spirit’s help without hesitation.
“Go to him, spirit. Encourage him to be a good husband, and I swear to be a good wife, ye ken?”
“I will do my very best, Your Grace.”
Chapter Four
“He mustha beensteamin’ wi’ drink when he offered Da the money for me,” Harmony told Effie as she dressed in the fine cornflower-blue muslin the duke had paid extra for the seamstress to finish before they departed Scotland. “Then, once he sobered, he was too proud to go back on his word. He doesna want me as a wife, Effie. What am I to do?”
“He still didna come to ye?” Effie stared at her. “I canna believe that. Not with the way the man looks at ye. Ye can see the longing in his face.”
Harmony spun around on the fancy dressing table stool and pointed at the mantel across the room. “I am as untouched as that candelabrum wearing that healthy coat of dust.”
Effie glanced at all the doors, then leaned in close. “Maybe he canna,” she whispered with an exaggerated waggle of her brows. “Old Mr. Crawley had a bull like that once. Slaughtered it and salted it down. Him and his kin ate good all winter.” She tipped a quick shrug. “That would explain why a handsome duke such as His Grace bought himself a commoner wife from Scotland rather than took his pick from London Society. Reckon?”
Harmony’s heart fell. If her husband couldn’tbe a husband, she’d never know the joy of cradling her own sweet bairn in her arms. She allowed herself a heavy sigh. “That would explain a great deal.” But if that were so, why hadn’t the ghostly woman warned her? Was that what the spirit lady meant bygive him achance? She clenched her hands in her lap so tightly her nails dug into her palms.
Effie swatted her fingers. “None of that, now. Ye are headed to breakfast and willna be wearing yer gloves. Do ye wish to be bleeding as if ye escaped crucifixion?”
“Effie!” Harmony crossed herself. That was all she needed—the wrath of Almighty God coming down on them for such talk. “I want children. If he canna—I shall never have them. Not even one.”
“Mayhap the trip wearied him overmuch. Or he was concerned ye were too tired.” Effie squeezed her shoulder. “Give it some time, hen. ’Tis all still so new to the both of ye.”
Harmony sat taller, squared her shoulders, and gave Effie’s reflection in the mirror a stern nod. “I shall speak with him about it. Today.”
Effie’s hands stilled halfway through the braiding of Harmony’s hair. “And what will ye say to him?”
