But he remembered the relief on her face when she had escaped to her chambers earlier. The careful distance she maintained whenever they were alone. The way she looked at him sometimes, as though trying to puzzle out a stranger.
He would not force himself on her. He would not take what was not freely given. Whatever happened between them would happen because she chose it, not because obligation demanded it.
Edward reached for his brandy and took a long swallow. The liquor burned down his throat, doing nothing to cool the heat in his blood.
Patience. He had told himself he could be patient. That he would wait for trust, for connection, for something real to grow between them.
He had not expected how difficult waiting would be.
The clock on the mantel chimed the hour. Somewhere above him, his wife prepared for sleep in chambers that connected to his own through a single door. A door he would not open. Not tonight. Perhaps not for many nights to come.
No matter how much he wished it.
Edward drained his glass and stared into the dying fire.
CHAPTER 27
“Don’t think about him,” Sophia whispered the words to herself, her eyes fixed on the canopy above her bed.
The silk was pale blue, embroidered with delicate silver thread that caught the firelight.
Beautiful. Expensive. Belonging to a life she still could not believe was hers.
Her heart pounded against her ribs. She lay atop the coverlet in her nightgown and thin robe, her hair loose around her shoulders, waiting.
For what, she was not entirely certain. Edward had not come to her on their wedding night. He had not knocked on the adjoining door and had not claimed his rights as her husband. She had lain awake for hours, tense and terrified, before finally accepting that he would not appear.
Tonight, it might be different.
The fire crackled in the hearth. The clock on the mantel ticked away the seconds. Sophia counted her breaths and tried to calm the racing of her pulse.
A knock sounded at the adjoining door.
She sat up, her fingers clutching the fabric of her robe. “Enter.”
The door swung open. Edward stood in the doorway, silhouetted by the light from his own chambers. He wore a white shirt, unbuttoned at the collar, the fabric loose enough to reveal the hollow of his throat. Dark trousers. Bare feet. His hair was disheveled, as though he had been running his hands through it.
Sophia’s mouth went dry.
She had seen him in evening dress, in riding clothes, in the perfectly tailored coats he wore to conduct business. She had never seen him as this undone, this vulnerable. Almost… human.
He stepped into the room and closed the door behind him. His eyes swept over her, taking in her loose hair, her thin robe, and the bare feet tucked beneath her on the bed. Something flickered in his gaze, there and gone before she could name it.
“I wanted to see if you were comfortable.” His voice came out rough. “In your chambers. If everything is to your liking.”
“The chambers are lovely.” Sophia folded her hands in her lap to keep them from trembling. “Thank you.”
“And dinner?” He remained near the door, maintaining the distance between them. “Did you enjoy it?”
“Yes. Oliver was delightful company.”
Silence followed once more. Edward shifted his weight. His jaw tightened.
Sophia understood. He had come to her room but could not bring himself to say why. He could not bring himself to cross the distance and take what was his by right.
Perhaps he needed her to make it easier for him.
And so, she rose from the bed. Her fingers found the sash of her robe and began to untie it.
