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Daisy nodded and wandered into the water closet, a spacious room with a dressing table, its own fireplace, and a ceramic bathtub that filled with water heated by the kitchen chimney. Ten minutes later she was up to her chin in a warm bath.

“I love the fragrance of this soap,” she said, trying to relax. Nothing would happen before evening. She could bathe, go downstairs, and calmly inform Miles that she had fibbed about a few things. Unimportant things. Relatively unimportant things.

“Wild cherry,” Ada replied, carefully arranging Daisy’s toiletries. “I heard all about it this morning. Lord Devin’s mother had a great love for country matters. She enjoyed experimenting with soaps and lotions and tending honeybees. Are you likely to follow in her footsteps, my lady?”

“No. I haven’t the faintest idea how to make soap, and I dislike being stung by bees.” She stretched one leg out of the water, wishing that she had Regina’s slender limbs rather than thick thighs. “You know what I’m like, Ada. I like to read novels. I’m frivolous by nature and inclination, and I do not intend to allow marriage to change me.”

“That’s all right,” Ada said. “The late Lady Devin passed away years ago, and the housekeeper has used the lady’s recipe to make soap ever since. Mrs. Bretton seems rigid but fair. I expect she’ll welcome a mistress who doesn’t care to alter her routine.”

“I shan’t interfere.” Daisy had never given much thought to her mother’s propensity to live in London rather than the country estate, though now she understood that Lady Wharton had been avoiding her husband. The upshot was that Daisy had no idea how landed gentry behaved outside the city, though surely they didn’t make soap all day.

“Did they tell you anything else about the late Lady Devin?”

“She had a swanlike beauty,” Ada said promptly “That’s the word Mr. Hobbs used, ‘swanlike.’”

Daisy sighed. “I could achieve a chicken—one with a crest of feathers—but never a swan.”

“Mr. Hobbs remarked on your beautiful hair.”

Daisy peered at her from under a huge crown of soap bubbles. “It’s a nuisance. Look how many hairpins I’ve lost over the years. Several tinkled on the chapel floor as I was walking the aisle.”

Ada laughed. “I told the housekeeper that we need to buy them in bulk.”

A few minutes later, Daisy sat down before the fire, wringing water from the rope of hair that hung over her shoulder. Ada began combing in scented oil to keep her curls from frizzing as they dried.

“Daisy?”

Miles’s voice came from the bedchamber. Her heart skipped a beat.

“My lady,” Ada hissed. “It’s him!”

Daisy got to her feet, winding the toweling more tightly around her breasts. She had a feeling of raw panic. Time to face the music.

Own up to mistakes.

Consummate the marriage?

EPISODE ONE HUNDRED AND EIGHT

CONSUMMATION?

Miles strolled into his wife’s bedroom, aware that every part of his body was standing at attention. He had planned to consummate his marriage in the evening. Only an infatuated fool couldn’t curb his lust for a few hours.

He had waited one hour. A gentlemanly hour. He’d had a bath, shaved, put on clean garments, and decided that gentleman or not, he couldn’t wait. The chamber was empty, but he heard the murmur of women’s voices from the water closet. “Daisy?”

His wife walked into the bedroom a moment later, and the nerves that had been sparking in his body raged into a forest fire. He felt as eager as a young man seeing a naked woman for the first time, his heart beating so hard that he fancied his shirt front was vibrating. He only vaguely noticed as her maid dipped a curtsy and trotted out the door.

Daisy’s curves were emphasized by toweling wound tightly around her body. Her lips were plump and luscious, her chin pointed, her nose snub, her cheeks—

“You are incredibly beautiful.” The words leapt from his mouth without conscious volition.

Color flared higher in her cheeks. “Miles. You’re … here. In my bedchamber.”

He couldn’t bring himself to obfuscate. “Yes. I thought perhaps we could go to bed.”

Daisy glanced at the sunshine pouring into the room. “You said we would wait until nightfall.” She turned even pinker. “Everyone will know what we’re doing.”

“Most newlyweds rush toward the nearest bed.” His voice had an embarrassingly hungry rumble. He took a few steps toward her. “But we could wait if you’d prefer.” Conscience prickled him. “For that matter, we needn’t consummate the marriage until you feel comfortable, Daisy. It’s up to you.”