Nutworthy looked agonized but determined. “I also pray you will forgive my immoderate consumption of the extraordinarily fine champagne, my lord.”
What?Graham’s thoughts, every single one of them, were on his bride not twenty feet away.Nutworthy, champagne.“Ah, I am pleased you enjoyed the champagne.”
“I also consumed more of the amazing plum pudding than I should have. I daresay my consumption of that remarkable dish reached an excessive degree. My only defense is the pudding was nearly as excellent as my dear now-departed mother’s whose plums were from her own small orchard. So purple they were.”
Graham didn’t remember the plum pudding. Had he eatenany? He was trying to form a consummation plan when Nutworthy said, “Mr. French is correct in his weather prognostications, my lord. It appears a violent spring storm is very nearly upon us. I am informed we are to be bombarded by heavy rain, possibly high winds. I believe I should fasten all the windows here and in your bedchamber.”
“Thank you, Nutworthy. Do not concern yourself with the windows in our bedchamber. I shall see they’re tightly closed.”
Nutworthy assisted Graham into his new bathrobe, soft wool and warm, given to him by his newly discovered brother-in-law, Donner. Under it he wore nothing at all. He’d considered a nightshirt, rejected it.Begin as you mean to go on.He couldn’t remember where he’d heard that sage advice, but it seemed to apply here. He’d never worn a nightshirt since he’d been a boy of fifteen and realized his idol, Mr. Sherbrooke, slept naked with his wife, in bed, all night, every night. It was a heady bit of knowledge to stir a young boy’s blood.
Nutworthy was clearly distressed. “But, my lord, surely a nightshirt is appropriate on this of all nights since—ah, forgive me, but I cannot continue.” It was a good thing he realized where his sentence was proceeding and shut his mouth.
Graham fought back a grin. “Gird your loins, Nutworthy. Now, you may go to bed. Thank you for your assistance.”
Nutworthy gave him a sharp bow, said nothing more and surely that was remarkable in itself.
Graham stood quietly for a moment listening, but he could only hear low female murmurs from the bedchamber. What were Cam and Cilly talking about? He thought of Cilly speaking to her as Nutworthy had to him. No, surely not. His new wife was innocent and nervous and he was naked beneath his bathrobe. He had to keep control. He’d told Nutworthy to gird his loins. Now he knew he had to keep his own loins well girded.
Please don’t let me muck this up.
CHAPTER 44
Cilly helped Cam change into her silk nightgown with its matching pale peach peignoir, a wedding gift from her new aunt Sophie, Ryder’s charming wife, who’d eyed her up and down and declared her worthy, and laughed, hugged her, whispered, “Lord Graham will most certainly appreciate you. You will see the peignoir is more for display than for actual use.”
Cilly said now, “It’s so sheer and soft and hints what’s beneath, but not quite reveals. Lord Graham might fall over in a dead faint at the sight of you.”
Cam stared at herself in the Cheval glass and thought,That might be best if he were unconscious on the floor, but of course she couldn’t let Cilly know she was ready to bolt. Up went her chin. “I know he won’t faint, he’s made of stern stuff. Maybe one of his perfect eyebrows will elevate a bit, but no more.”And his eyes will be so wicked I’ll be the one to faint.She met Cilly’s eyes in the mirror. “He spoke of our being two halves and coming together would make a perfect whole. Well, he didn’t say perfect. It sounds quite wonderful but since I don’t really know what that means, well, I have a general idea, given the outrageous stories Aunt Deveraux isalways telling me. When she saw the nightgown, she shouted “DELICIOUS WITH SUCH PROMISE OF WICKEDNESS,” and she fingered the material. I swear she was remembering, ah, youthful and, well, maybe not-so-youthful assignations. But alas, Cilly, she was never really all that specific, and how could I ask her what exactly happened on a wedding night?”
Cilly wondered how many dozen trysts were stored in Lady Deveraux’s brain, all very detailed indeed, she’d wager. She knew Cam was concerned about her wedding night, but alas, she was nearly as ignorant as her mistress, not that she would ever admit it on pain of torture. She said, “The idea of two halves coming together is a perfect metaphor. I will say without hesitation Lord Graham knows what he’s talking about and you should trust him completely.” She saw Cam’s mouth open and added quickly, “Ah, what an amazing series of events, all of them happening so quickly and Lord Graham is such a lovely young man. It is difficult to believe you’re now a wife. Oh, Cam, I am so happy for you,” and Cilly burst into tears.
They hugged, Cam rocking her. She realized two things at once. Neither she nor Cilly was tipsy any longer, a pity, and she was now taller than Cilly. She whispered against Cilly’s temple, “Shall I give you Aunt Deveraux’s address in Bath? Perhaps you could pen a lovely note to Mr. Finch.”
Cilly laughed, wiped her eyes. “And here I thought I was so very discreet, a veritable closed book. Mr. Finch—his first name is Edward, a lovely name, a king’s name—he is delightful, isn’t he, Cam? There is such kindness in him and he is so very solicitous of your aunt. I quite admire him.”
“You have excellent taste. Edward is a fine name, a very romantic name as well. He is also very pleasing to look at, which is like royal icing on the cake.”
“Ah, perhaps giving me his address would be quite all right, if you don’t think it would be too forward of me to write him a short, well-wishing note?”
“Not at all. I believe when we leave Ventnor we will be traveling to King’s Head in St. Lucy. I will ask Graham the proper address.”
Cilly gave a watery sniff, got herself together and it was all business. “Sit down now and let me brush out your hair.”
Oddly enough, this mundane everyday act calmed her. She thought about Graham and the two halves and smiled to herself as Cilly brushed her hair. She said, “I am so pleased Graham’s father appears to approve of me. Still, I believe he wanted Graham to himself for a while before he married. So much has happened very quickly. Earl St. Lucy tried his best this morning, smiling, accepting congratulations on his son’s return, eyeing me like he wished I was in China, but then, he slowly eased, I guess you could say.”
“Of course he approves of you. He’ll come to love you, you will make him laugh and want to hug you all the time, just like Lord Graham, come to think of it. So many smiles, so much laughter already.”
“I certainly hope so. It didn’t hurt he and my father have known each other since Oxford, and like each other, so he couldn’t dislike the fact our marriage joins our families. He just hoped it wouldn’t be so very soon.” She paused. “Of course my new father-in-law had heard about poor Averil’s madness and her departure back to her family in the north.” She grinned in the mirror at Cilly. “He was most sincerely sorry and relieved, of course, that I do not share her blood.”
Cilly frowned down at a tangle, gently brushed through it. She said, “I’d be relieved too. I’m sure you’ve noticed how everyone at home is smiling more now Lady Averil is gone. A dreadful woman, your father is much better off without her. And don’t you ever worry anyone will say anything, they won’t. All love your father as much as they disliked her.”
“I rather hope she rots, Cilly.”
“A sentiment shared by all,” Cilly said. “Do you know, your sister and Lord Graham’s sister, Eugenie, appeared to get alongvery well—her husband seems like a nice gentleman. I wonder what he thinks of Lord Graham appearing so unexpectedly.”
“I’ll ask Graham.”
Cilly started to braid Cam’s hair, stopped. “We will leave your hair loose. It is appropriate, I think.”
