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Chapter Six
HOURS LATER, INA sat toying with a fork at the head of a dining table large enough for twelve. Not a large table, her table, and sitting to her right was Gavin, her husband.
She set the utensil down gently. The metal hardly made a sound against her thin china plate, but it was all too noticeable in the silent room. The entire meal had been like this. Quiet. Subdued. Uncomfortable.
Now, without the hubbub of the day to distract her, she was beginning to feel ill at ease. She reached for her wine, using the movement to surreptitiously steal a glance at her husband. He’d been quiet all day, politely greeting the callers who’d descended on her father’s house after the wedding breakfast to wish them well but not once rising to a quip. Someone who knew him less well might not have noticed, but to her it seemed he was wearing his reticence like a painted sign hung around his neck.
It was their wedding night that was the problem. The event—unmistakable in its gravity—sat at the table with them.
I can’t miss what I don’t know. The night they’d become engaged she’d brushed off his concerns that she’d never know the intimacy of a true marriage, but the kiss on the steps of St. Giles’ had her rethinking her careless concession. If just the press of lips against lips felt so good, what else had she given up?
She wanted her wedding night, she realized as she sat there, watching Gavin roll the stem of his wineglass between his fingers. Their agreement precluded them from regularly sharing a bed, but surely this night would be an exception. Their marriage wouldn’t be considered valid unless it was consummated.
She drew in a steadying breath. She didn’t know exactly what she was meant to do. Lana and Christine, one married and one widowed, had taken it upon themselves to give her a general working idea of the mechanics of sex, but that didn’t mean the situation was any clearer. Was a husband meant to come to a wife or vice versa? Should she undress and then don her night rail, or was it best to remain naked? How exactly did one tell one’s husband, “I wish you to deflower me now,” without having to express it in such ham-handed terms?
Under normal circumstances Ina would have had no compunction about pestering Gavin with a litany of questions, but the awkwardness hanging about them held her back.
“I suppose it’s getting late,” said Gavin at last.
“Not so very late,” she said quickly.
“It was a long day, and you received so many calls.”
“And I’ll soon have to return them all,” she said, doing little to hide her displeasure regarding the idea of having to sit in a carriage while her maid dropped engraved cards with her new name off at the houses of her acquaintances.
“You never did like making calls,” he said with a little smile.
“Neither would you if you were forced to do it.”
“You’re probably right.”
How does this start?
What if I don’t know what to do?
The questions raced through her mind, but she couldn’t make her mouth form the words to ask.
In the end, it was Gavin who took charge, asking, “Shall we go to bed?”
Ina chewed her lip as Gavin led her upstairs on his arm. She fought to keep her steps steady and her hand from trembling. Perhaps he’d kiss her in the hallway and that would be her signal. Or maybe he’d request that she leave the door between their rooms unlocked. That seemed an entirely reasonable way to approach the logistics of the matter.
When they reached her bedroom door Gavin leaned down . . . and kissed her on the cheek.
“Sleep well tonight,” he said.
Ina let out a shaky breath. He was being a gentleman and letting her undress with the assistance of her maid. This was their wedding night, not a real good night.
Feeling no less unsettled than she had at supper, Ina retreated to her room and allowed Ruth to help her out of her things. Despite changing out of her wedding clothes when they’d arrived home, she hadn’t taken the time to loosen her corset. Her whole body felt like jelly when at last Ruth released the brutally tied laces.
“Are you all right, ma’am?” asked the maid.
She tilted her head back and gulped in deep breaths of blissfully unconstrained air. “Mark my words, now that I’m married I have no intention of letting anyone tell me how tight to lace my corset ever again. Especially not my aunt.”
She didn’t miss Ruth’s grin as she stashed the offending garment in Ina’s armoire.
Ruth’s chatter kept her mind preoccupied during her evening routine of washing her face and brushing her hair. Still, she couldn’t help but wonder if Gavin was going through the same motions with Norris, their butler, who was valeting for him until he could find a manservant. A part of her hoped he was just as nervous with anticipation of the night to come.
When there was nothing left to be done, Ina dismissed Ruth and found herself with little to do but wait. Her night rail ballooned out around her as she dropped onto her chaise with a sigh.
