“I do wonder how much I can make you blush, my bashful bride. I’d like to try.”
Heat spread now, racing the length of her, down to her toes. “I wonder if you will still speak to me with such enthusiasm once our marriage progresses.”
“Only one way to find out, my dear. And with no rehearsal, it seems we have a whole evening to determine…progress.”
She tried to combat his wit, but how could she with his lips puckered into a knowing smile.
“I’ll talk to you the whole time, Ester.”
His whisper dripped like honey or thick coconut oil along her neck and stirred her pulse to thrash within her veins.
“Ester. Dearest, Ester. We’ll just hold hands or find something else to do. If you trust me.”
His tone was light, but there was no jest, not anymore.
And her heart couldn’t pretend anymore that she wasn’t as affected by Bex the husband as she was Bex the actor, not after sleeping at his side each night for the last three. She’d even become used to his snores. She loved his snores. “Tell me about your flat.”
The simmering expression in his eyes did not diminish. “It’s two small rooms, each in need of a woman’s touch.”
“Your countess friend never touched it.”
“No. No one comes to visit.”
Ester felt as if she had touched upon something, something raw. Perhaps the man who liked to tease couldn’t take teasing. She drummed her fingers upon her lap. “Two rooms? A bathing room and bedchamber?”
“No. A sitting area and a bedchamber. There is a room in the building with a copper tub, but it is shared by the residents.”
Shared? Her heart sunk. “That means it will have a rank for its use.” In her reticule were the two guineas Theodosia had given her. “I have a little money. Perhaps I could order one. It wouldn’t be a frivolous purchase. I can also wash my dresses in it. I only have one simple gown and this carriage dress. The party dress, my wedding dress, is too delicate for everyday wear.”
“Perhaps, we should consider purchasing new garbs for you. You’ve come to me with little. Then on my next benefit night, if we haven’t made arrangements, I’ll buy you a big copper tub with my money.”
“But I have clothes. Lots of clothes. We only need to stop at Nineteen Fournier.”
His smoldering smile turned into a solid frown. “No. Ester, we cannot. Not without a proper invitation.”
He was being silly. Those wereherthings in her room in her closet.
When the gig turned onto Lower Thames Street, getting close to Papa’s warehouse, she tugged Bex’s arm. “Let’s stop. Papa may be inside. We can ask him about my clothes.”
He picked up the reins and moved the gig faster. “No, Ester. You’re going to your new home, my flat. It’s too soon to press your parents for anything.”
“I want to try to make amends, Bex.”
He shook his head. “It’s only been a few days. Their anger hasn’t cooled. We haven’t proven that we are right in this marriage.”
“But I want to try.”
“I know Ester, and we will, but you made a choice by eloping out of that window. Now you are dead to them. Not much will fix that.”
His words stung like a kick to the gut, but she couldn’t accept it. “No, Bex. You know not what I feel.”
“Yes, I do, Ester. I, too, made a choice once that made everyone disown me.”
His posture seemed tense. There was still so little she knew of him. What past hurts did he hold inside? He had to be a loner for a reason, and that made her sad for him. “Your parents didn’t disown you. They died and died young. Is that how you feel about their passing?”
His jaw tightened, then he eased his grimace back to a simple frown. “No.”
“Then what are you talking about? Bex, tell me. I think I should know.”
