Smoothing her skirts, which had suffered only a little water damage, Laura smiled at him. “You are my gallant hero.”
The laughter faded from his eyes. “I hope to be.”
The reception was held at the Savoy Hotel in the Strand where they were to spend the night. In the columned, gilt-mirrored ballroom, Laura danced the wedding waltz with Nathaniel, the train of her gown over her arm, his gaze bathing her in admiration. Having made up her mind to marry him, she had not questioned her decision again. On the previous night, she had slept soundly and had woken filled with joy and a sense ofpurpose.
How strange. Although she hardly knew Nathaniel, she felt, as she believed he did, that they were destined for each other. She had not banished all her plans and resolutions, however. She knew herself too well. Her studies might lie in the past, but university had given her a thirst to continue broadening her knowledge and to be tested in other ways. Nathaniel had said his wife would have many duties. She was keen to embrace them, but women were forging careers in England, and she wanted to be a part of it. She would tell him when the time was right.
The best man, Horace Tothill, claimed a dance. “You have married a good man, Lady Lanyon.”
“I know it, Mr. Tothill.” She had judged Nathaniel entirely by instinct, dismissing rational thought, and didn’t doubt that she wasright.
“Once in Wolfram, you may hear something to the contrary. If you do, I hope you will continue to believe in him.”
Surprised, she stared at the attractive, fair-haired man. “I would like to ask what you mean by that, Mr. Tothill, but I suspect you won’t tell me.”
He smiled. “It must come from Nathaniel. He has chosen well. You seem a calm, patient woman.”
Laura nodded. She was not by nature the soul of patience. With so much lying ahead of her, she shelved his advice away for when it might be useful. But it left a whisper of uneasebehind.
The wedding breakfast over, Laura stood on the bottom step of the hotel staircase and threw her bouquet. She was glad when her favorite cousin, Phoebe, caught the posy. When the last of the guests departed, Laura slipped upstairs to their suite to change. She sent Mary back to Wimbledon with her wedding clothes, then came down to join her parents for a farewell drink in the hotel diningroom.
Her father drew Nathaniel aside for a brief conversation. Laura tried to hear what they discussed, but they kept their voices low. She kissed her mother, who held her against her soft bosom. “You’ve done very well, Laura, and made us proud.”
At last, I’ve done something right.She hugged her father and kissed his bristly cheek.
He winked at her. “Have a grand life, Lady Lanyon.”
Lady Lanyon.Laura drew in a breath. She was a baroness and had left her father’s protection forever. Upstairs in their suite of rooms, her handsome husband would make love to her. She welcomed it but shivered withanticipation.
“You’re not cold, my love?” Nathanielasked.
“No.” She searched his eyes for a sign that she was his love. That it was not merely the overused endearment she feared. After a whirlwind courtship, they hardly knew each other. But she was determined to make him love her as dearly as she knew she would lovehim.
Tomorrow they departed for Cornwall, and heaven only knew when she would see her family again. It was with a mixture of excitement and trepidation that Laura took Nathaniel’s hand, and they mounted thestairs.
Entering their hotel suite, Laura crossed the green and gold Savonnerie rug. The room’s elegance had pleased her when she’d come upstairs earlier with Mary to change. The pastel floral drapes at the windows matched the wallpaper, the furniture of rosewood. The half tester bed had made her quiver withnerves.
Her nightgown, frilled and tucked with lavish ribbons, lay on the green satin bedcover. Laura spun away as her heart beat madly. “We have our own bathroom.”
Nathaniel tipped the hotel page. He removed his gray tailcoat before opening the bottle of champagne just delivered, pulling the cork from the bottle with apop.
Laura removed her hat before the mirror. Her trunk had been sent on to the railway station. Tomorrow’s ensemble hung in the closet with a change of underwear, her toiletries on thedresser.
Nathaniel handed her a glass of champagne and clinked his against it. “To my beautiful wife.”
Laura was glad of the champagne. She toasted him in return. “To my gallant husband.”
She hadn’t dared drink wine at the reception, not under her mother’s gaze. Laura had been afraid it might go to her head. The champagne was delicious, dry and fizzy. She drank deeply, hoping it would settle hernerves.
“Your maid will help you undress. It’s been a long day. You must be tired.”
“I’ve sent Mary home. She prefers to remain here close to her family. I shall have to find another lady’s maid.”
“Dorcus is a good maid,” Nathaniel said. “But perhaps not quite to the standard you’re used to. She will do until you can find another.”
Laura longed for him to kiss her. What had happened to the man who had pursued her with such passionate intent? He seemed restrained. Was this how husbandsbehaved?
He flicked open the buttons on his gray satin waistcoat with his long fingers. His broad chest strained against his shirt as he undid the top button and pulled off his cravat. His movements were unhurried, while his gaze remained on her, making her tremble. She wanted him to sweep her up, carry her to the bed and ravish her before the fear set in that she would disappointment him. She wished she’d questioned her friends at university moreclosely.
