Page 25 of The Lord Next Door
Lord Thurlow sank down in the chair opposite her, his legs parted, his body more casually relaxed than she’d ever seen it. He was still watching her with those pale eyes, assessing her. What was she supposed to do? Wouldn’t he tell her?
He glanced at the brush in her hand. “I didn’t mean to interrupt your preparations. Please continue.”
Her eyes widened, and she almost wanted to giggle with nervousness. He was going to sit there and watch her brush her hair?
But he did. She combed through the damp strands, holding the curls out to the heat of the grate, while her new husband stared at her, sipping his wine occasionally. Her hands trembled so much, she didn’t dare lift her own goblet again, for fear of spilling it all over the new nightclothes Mrs. Wayneflete had insisted she purchase.
“You don’t need to be so frightened of me,” he finally said.
Her gaze met his. “I’m not frightened of you, my lord, but I will admit to nervousness about the unknown.”
With his elbow on the arm of the chair, he propped his chin on his fist. “Did your mother tell you what usually happens on a wedding night?”
She felt heat rise up her face. “Some, my lord. Mrs. Wayneflete helped as well.”
“Your housekeeper?” he asked, raising a brow.
“She has always been more than that to me. You’ll never know how much I appreciate that you’ve employed her.”
“Smith says she is an excellent worker, and already the household seems to be running smoothly.” He leaned forward. “You don’t need to keep calling me by my title.”
She frowned. “How would you wish me to address you?”
“My name is David.”
And suddenly, it was as if he’d brought up the memories of another time, when he’d called himself by another name. The deception hung between them, and bitterness made her worry about what kind of life they could have together. How was she supposed to forget such a betrayal?
Yet he’d saved her family. And now she was the one doing the lying.
He pressed his lips into a thin line. “Call me whatever you’re comfortable with.”
“Thank you, my lord.”
“But I shall call you Victoria.”
Because I never lied about my name, she thought with heavy sadness.
“Is your hair dry?” he asked.
She wet her lips and nodded. He took the brush from her hand and set it down, then encouraged her to take another drink of wine.
He twirled his own glass between his fingers and watched it. “I know why you asked that I should take my time with you. This is truly awkward between us, since we did know each other once upon a time. Now we’re newly married, yet…with so little time for you to grow used to the reality of being alone with a man.”
“Is it the same for you, my lord?”
“Pardon me?” His heavy brows lowered in obvious confusion.
“Are new husbands…nervous?”
He opened his mouth as if astonished, but nothing came out, and he finally refilled his glass and took another drink before speaking. “No, I’m not nervous, but then husbands tend to already know what’s involved in a wedding night.”
“Why?”
Was he blushing?
“Victoria, unlike women, most men have already—” He stopped and frowned. “I have already…participated in the act.”
The act? she wanted to repeat incredulously. That’s what he called the most intimate part of marriage between a husband and wife?
