“Blue,” Roderick said with a laugh. “It’s very blue. I never changed it—my mother was very fond of the color. You may, of course, alter it however you see fit so that it suits you. Something to discuss with Stevenson tomorrow or in the weeks to come, if you’d like.”
She turned toward him and shook her head. “It’s very kind of you, but I think it’s beautiful. Your mother had impeccable taste.”
There was a brief sadness that filled his eyes. “She did, yes.”
She found herself moving toward him, a desire to comfort him filling her. She wanted to know more about the woman who had raised him. About her loving marriage and his loss. She blinked and pushed that aside.
“Er,” she murmured and rubbed her hands together. “I’m not sure what to do now.”
“We don’t have long,” he said and shifted his weight. Then he smiled. “I’ll be honest with you, Clarissa, I’m also at a loss.”
“You are? And you admit it?”
He laughed. “Well, neither of us has ever been married before, have we? I don’t think either of us has any better notion than the other. We have a little time before we join the party for the gathering. I can hear them all starting to arrive.”
She was quiet for a moment and in the distance she did hear the sound of faint voices, of doors closing and opening.
“I could show you my room,” he said. “Or if you’d like a moment alone, there’s plenty of time for that later.”
His gaze flitted over her when he said that and her legs went a little weak. His bedroom. Would that be where they consummatedthis sudden union? Or would it be here in this pretty bed? If she followed him, would he try to get that over with now? He kept looking at her and when he’d kissed her in the carriage he’d seemed to desire her.
“Perhaps a moment wouldn’t be the worst thing.”
He inclined his head and she could sense no disappointment in his behavior. “I’ll come back for you in a few moments, then.” He backed from her chamber and closed the door behind himself.
She sucked in a shaky breath and moved to the dressing room on the other side of the chamber. Her maid had been coming and going for a day or so and her gowns and other things were already arranged in the room. There was a pretty dressing table with her brushes and combs laid out. That made the place feel like home, at least.
She returned to the bedroom and walked to the bed. She touched the coverlet and found it to be soft as silk. Her fist bunched against it and she shut her eyes.
She was the Countess of Kirkwood. Roderick’s wife. That was forever. And somehow she had to come to grips with that fact before the party so she could behave correctly. Come to grips with it before they returned to this chamber later tonight and the full union of their lives was made.
She just wasn’t certain how.
Roderick hadn’t wanted this marriage, and yet when Clarissa shakily asked for a few moments alone, he’d been a little disappointed. Oh, he understood. Like him, she had to be overwhelmed by the turn of events of the last few weeks. But still, when she stood in her new bedchamber, looking at him with those wide, beautiful eyes, he had wanted to touch her. Not take her, perhaps, but kiss her again, certainly. Lie down beside her and let his hands begin an exploration that they could finish at their leisure later.
But he couldn’t push. For both their sakes. And so now he stood inhis own bedchamber, staring out the window as their guests milled about the garden with its changing autumn colors. He glanced at the clock on his mantel and sighed.
He crossed back over to her door and hesitated before he garnered the courage to knock. “Come in,” she said softly.
He opened the door and found she was just coming down off the bed, as if she’d lain down for a moment on it to gather herself. There was something so intimate about seeing her like that. Not sexual, though he supposed there was that about seeing his new bride slithering off the high edge of the bed, but intimate on a deeper level.
“It’s time,” he said.
She moved to the mirror mounted above the fireplace and checked herself, smoothing her gown and her hair before she turned toward him. “Am I presentable as Lady Kirkwood?”
“You would be in sackcloth,” he assured her as he offered her his arm.
She blushed and he reveled in that as he took her from the room and back downstairs to the ballroom at the back of the house. This wasn’t a ball, but it was a big enough chamber to hold a great number of friends and gawkers who would bless this union while eating his food and drinking his spirits. All the doors along the back of the huge room were thrown open, allowing guests to pass in and out of the room onto the terrace behind the house.
She drew in a harsh breath as they entered. “Oh, it’s lovely,” she whispered. “The ceiling, Roderick.”
He glanced up. He’d always lived in this house and her joy at discovering it made him truly look at it. The ceiling was a delight with its decorative plaster flowers and duel pale purple and light blue paint. There were a few Greek-style reliefs on the ceiling, as well, with sprites pouring water from urns and gentlemen in togas eating grapes from trays.
“Lord and Lady Kirkwood,” his butler announced to the gathered crowd.
Clarissa jumped at that declaration and looked at him briefly asthe guests began to applaud and bow to them. He watched her uncertainty fade then, replaced by all the ways she had been trained in propriety over the years. Things he’d scoffed at, but immediately he began to see their value.
For the next few hours, he couldn’t take his eyes from her. Once they parted ways, she moved from group to group with an unpracticed ease, talking to friends and family without hesitation. She truly engaged with those around her, listening intently when they spoke, leaving them smiling when she departed them.
