Page 13 of Suddenly a Bride
Or maybe he didn’t care one way or the other.
Gwyneth hugged herself and watched Lucy exclaim over each new garment and accessory. Finally the girl looked excitedly over her shoulder, but her smile died when she saw Gwyneth’s face.
“Milady?”
“Pack them away, Lucy. I cannot accept them.”
“But why? Surely I never knew such lovely things existed.”
“They were his first wife’s garments.”
Lucy gave an apologetic shrug. “Such things are done, milady.”
“I know. But she was my cousin too. Would you mind putting them away? Then we’ll just close the coffer and have someone remove it on the morrow.”
Lucy nodded, her shoulders drooping, and finished the task while Gwyneth hung her own small selection of gowns on pegs in the wall.
When she was done, Lucy straightened and said, “I guess ’tis time to send for hot water for a bath, milady. I see a tub over there in the corner.”
For a moment, Gwyneth sighed at the thought of finally being clean after such a long journey, until she remembered the state of her new household. “I can’t. There are no servants to carry up the water.”
“I’lldo it,” Lucy said indignantly. “ ’Tis your wedding night. He should have seen to it.”
“None of that.” Her voice was stern, but she finished with a small smile. “And I’ll not have you hurting yourself carrying buckets all over this castle—and probably getting lost, too.”
Lucy reluctantly grinned. “I was beginnin’ to wonder how I would find me mornin’ meal.”
“Then that’s settled.” She walked to the fire, took a small kettle of water from the floor near the hearth, and hung it on a hook above the flames. “There’s already water here, and I can wash as I usually do. From now on, when I want a bath, I’ll have to see to it in the middle of the day.”
“Gwyn!” Lucy said, scandalized.
She laughed. “Help me unbutton my gown, and then you can go to your bed.”
When Gwyneth was wearing only a smock, she smiled and handed a candleholder to Lucy. “Off with you, now. Sleep well.”
The girl hesitated at the door. “Are ye sure ye don’t want me to stay?”
“He’ll probably be here soon.” Her breath caught a little. “I’d best be alone.”
Lucy nodded, opened her mouth as if to say “good luck,” but seemed to think better of it and just smiled before she held the candle out above the stairs. “I’ll likely break me bloody neck.”
Gwyneth heard the whisper and smiled as she closed the door. It was suddenly very quiet in her new bedchamber. But it wouldn’t be for long. Her husband would be here soon, and she didn’t want to start her marriage with his disappointment.
Quickly she stripped off her smock, then stood on a towel before the hearth to wash herself. Though it was summer, there was an ancient coldness in the castle that made her shiver as the water ran down her skin. Or maybe it was only her nerves making her teeth chatter.
She toweled herself dry and dressed quickly in the new night rail her mother had given her. It was plain, gathered at her neck and wrists, but of a delicate, sheer fabric that quite made Gwyneth blush at how much it revealed. But her mother had promised that a man would like it.
Next she had to decide where to wait for her husband. For only the second time, she let her gaze slide to the large bed, with its four high posts, heavy bed curtains, and a canopy over the top. It was so big, there was a set of little stairs to climb up to it.
It was big enough to fit a man like her husband, and she shivered as she imagined lying in it with him. Or would he go to his own chamber to sleep, as some men did? Her parents shared a room, and she so wanted to enjoy the kind of love they had.
She almost giggled nervously as she went back to the question of where to await her husband. In bed? No, it would seem too obvious. Yet to sit in a chair before the fire felt ridiculous, since she wore so little clothing.
She settled on a perch at the edge of the bed, with her feet resting on the steps. Once she stopped moving, she could hear the absolute quiet of the castle. She was at the highest point, and below her it was almost empty. She had never felt much stillness in her life, because her parents’ cozy cottage was always full of running feet and laughter. But that life was gone, and it was time to make her own.
Several minutes passed, and she shifted into a more comfortable position. Surely Sir Edmund knew Lucy had retired to her own chamber. Or was Gwyneth supposed to send for him?
But no—he would have asked. He must want her to wait. When he was finished with his work, he would come to her.
