The sitting room boasted an array of windows that let in light even on a day as dreary as this one was. A remarkable chiffonier, a small cabinet with inlaid wood in the Italian style, lay against one wall, a set of crystal glasses and a spectacular bouquet of flowers on top. Paintings of dogs and horses covered the walls as might be expected in a gentleman’s room. Mia smiled.
“You like the paintings?” Gideon asked.
“I like animals. I prefer these to landscapes!”
The room also boasted a table with straight-backed chairs and two plush ones arranged by the hearth. Smaller nosegays of flowers had been placed on the table, the mantel, and the window seat. To the left of the hearth, there was a door. With a glance over her shoulder, Mia opened it to find a cozy bedroom holding a four-poster bed with a flowered coverlet. Flowers on the porcelain washing set matched it. Her own brush and mirror lay on a dainty vanity next to yet more flowers, and her trunk had been brought from her room. Even the book she’d been reading lay on the bedside table. Someone had gone to great care, but one thing worried her. “It is a bit small,” she said.
He didn’t ask her what she meant. “This is yours. My room is across the way.”
Her unexpected rush of disappointment left her feeling foolish. She hung her cloak and bonnet on pegs by the door and crossed the sitting room to a door next to the chiffonier in a rush. It opened onto a very different bedroom with deep-blue hangings and heavy furniture, as masculine as the other was feminine. They each had a dressing room beyond. “It—It’s very fine.”
“The bed is larger.” She hadn’t heard him come up behind her. His breath, warm on her neck, sent shivers through her. Or perhaps his words did.
A scratch at the door presaged the arrival of their food, and he moved away. The maid laid a platter, two empty plates, two cups, and a bowl of sugar out on the table. A footman carried a tray with a kettle, a teapot, and the spirit lamp. Mia had him arrange it all on the chiffonier, moving the bouquet to the window seat. “Water is heating for your bath,” the little maid said with a blush before curtseying out.
Mia discovered the teapot was already full and hot. She brought it to the table.
He gestured to the table. “Shall we eat while we wait? I know you didn’t eat a bite at the wedding breakfast.”
She sat and gazed up at him. When he grimaced while taking his seat, she stared at the platter to keep from commenting. “Cheese, ham, and fruit. Shall I pour?” Her hand was on the teapot.
“If you wish.”
“Were you hoping for something stronger?”
He glanced at the chiffonier. “Probably.”
He didn’t try to rise when she went to the beautiful cabinet and opened the door on a selection of wine and spirits. She returned with a bottle of brandy and a crystal glass. She set them in front of him and poured herself tea. He had put a selection of foods on her plate, and her stomach clenched at the sight; she was certain she couldn’t eat a bite.
“Are you well, Mia?”
“I’m sorry to be so nervous. It is just all so strange.”
“And it came on you too fast. Have a bit of this; it may help.” He tipped a tot of spirits into her tea. “Go on. Try it.”
She took a sip, frowned, and added sugar. The next sip went down comfortably “Better. Good, in fact,” she said.
“You don’t need to be nervous around me, Mia. I won’t hurt you.”
Uncle and her father barked at mistakes. Would her husband treat her the same? “It’s just that I don’t know what is expected of me, or how to go on.”
“Act however comes naturally. If you’re uncertain, ask me whatever you like.”
“There is one thing, Gideon. I don’t mean to pry, but I need to know about your back. Did you injure it riding here?”
“Injure? No. The reason I have a custom saddle is that it enables me to sit upright without straining muscles. In a standard saddle, it takes all I have to keep from sliding to one side because my posture is uneven. The ride from Selwyn Court took more out of me than I expected, and I pulled a muscle in my back. Hot water—which you wisely ordered—should do the trick.”
Mia swallowed and plucked up her courage. “How bad is your back? How did it happen?”
“I was born this way. It is a sharp curvature in my spine they call scoliosis. It is why my shoulders lean and why I walk the way I do.”
“It is why your father scorned you.”
“One of the reasons,” he said tightly. He waved that away with one hand. “It has never hindered me from doing what needs to be done.”
“I suspect you are too determined to let it, even if it ties you in knots.” Her next question slipped out before she could stop. “May I see?” she breathed.
His gaze intensified. “You don’t have to. I can—”
