Page 54 of Mail-Order Viscountess

The wedding breakfast had stretched into early afternoon, a blur of laughter and stories and Mrs. Wang’s seemingly endless supply of food. Thomas smiled through all of it, playing the part of the happy groom—which wasn’t difficult, really. He was happy.

He just didn’t quite know what to do about it.

Now that the celebration had finally wound down, he needed to find Kate. She’d slipped away sometime between Mrs. Wang’s third course and Enoch’s surprisingly heartfelt speech about their family growing stronger.

As the jade silk of her dress had disappeared around the corner, something had tightened in his chest.

His wife.

The words still felt foreign, like wearing a new pair of boots that hadn’t quite broken in yet.

Kate Balfour. Lady Balfour, technically, though she might not want to use the title any more than he did his own.

She’d slipped away from the great room perhaps a half hour ago, Clara following close behind. Probably needing a moment to breathe after all the attention.

He knew that need well—the desire to escape when too many eyes watched, too many voices offered congratulations he didn’t really deserve.

Now he finally had a chance to spend time with his bride. Maybe do some proper courting, even if they’d gotten the order backward by marrying first.

He’d been thinking about tonight too. About what she might expect. What he should say.

He’d decided not to push. Not to assume.

They’d married to protect her reputation, yes, but also because they’d both felt something worth exploring. That deserved time. Deserved the chance to grow without the pressure of obligations neither of them was ready for. Well…an obligation she might not be ready for anyway.

He’d tell her that. Make sure she knew he didn’t expect her to share his bed until they were both ready.

He checked the great room first, then the kitchen, where Mrs. Wang shooed him away with a wooden spoon and a knowing smile that made heat climb the back of his neck. Not in the parlor. Not on the porch.

He climbed the stairs two at a time. Kate had been sharing Clara’s room since they’d arrived at the ranch—the same guest chamber their mother had once kept for visiting relatives.

He paused outside the door and ran a hand through his hair. Then knocked.

Footsteps approached, lighter than Kate’s purposeful stride. The door opened to reveal Clara, her honey-blonde hair slightly mussed and her warm hazel eyes widening at the sight of him.

“Thomas.” She glanced over her shoulder, then back at him. “If you’re looking for Kate, she’s not here.”

“Do you know where she went?”

A small smile played at Clara’s lips—the same knowing expression Mrs. Wang had worn. Did all women share some secret language?

“She’s taken her things to your room.” Clara’s grin widened at whatever she saw on his face. “About twenty minutes ago.”

Thomas blinked. “She—my room?”

“Your room.” Clara tilted her head, studying him a bit too much like her older sister did. “I suppose it’s her room now too.”

Of course she had. Because he hadn’t talked to her yet about his plan.

“Right.” He cleared his throat. “Thank you.”

He turned and strode toward his own chamber. She’d moved her things without discussion. Without waiting for him to offer or even ask. She’d simply done what she believed was expected, because that’s who Kate was. Someone who faced hard things head-on, chin lifted.

The door to his room stood slightly ajar.

He tapped on the wood as he eased it open. “Kate?”

She stood by the window, her back to him, still wearing the green silk dress that made her blonde hair shimmer. Her trunk sat at the foot of his bed, and a smaller valise rested on the chair near the wardrobe.