Page 27 of The Lord Next Door
David barely restrained himself from slamming the door. Nothing had gone as he’d meant it to. Whyever had he asked her to call him by his name, as if he somehow wanted to be close to her again?
Instead he’d allowed his virgin wife, who asked intimate questions of her housekeeper, to question him about his mistress, for God’s sake. He had nothing to be ashamed of. He’d been more kind and understanding than most husbands would be on a wedding night.
But when she’d trusted him with her hand, full of a strength he hadn’t anticipated, something had happened inside him, something he didn’t understand.
And then he’d wanted to throw out all his plans, to sweep her onto the bed and take her immediately, as was his right.
What was he, a feudal knight? He didn’t think he’d ever skirted the edge of restraint like that. When she’d looked at him as if she might trust him again, it had almost been his undoing. He’d thought to satisfy himself with a chaste kiss, and even that had set his blood burning. Her lips were soft, silken…
He had to get control of himself, something he always prided himself on. There was never a business arrangement or an argument in the Commons of which he did not have complete mastery.
But his new wife, his childhood friend, had been afraid of him, and he’d only wanted to make that emotion go away.
He would not live his life like this. She was his partner in marriage, not his reason for existing, as in a foolish romantic poem. They each brought their skills to the marriage like a business arrangement. They could coexist quite nicely, and no one would suffer any pain.
He took off his clothes and went to bed, satisfied in mind, but not in body.
~oOo~
Victoria awoke as the sun streamed in her window, and she realized with a start after glancing at the clock that she’d slept almost half the morning away. She pushed aside the blankets, prepared to help Mrs. Wayneflete with breakfast, when she remembered her new situation.
She was Lady Thurlow, and she had servants to do all those tasks now. Very slowly she leaned back on her elbows, took a deep breath, and let some of her worry go. There would be food on the table that she didn’t have to sell a family heirloom to buy. She would never have to watch her mother grow thinner again.
There were tears streaming down her cheeks before she even realized it. She didn’t know where a handkerchief was, so she wiped her eyes with shaking fingers and let the relief flow into her. She’d accomplished something she’d never believed she could do.
She got out of bed and went to the window, where she could see the gardens they’d wandered through yesterday, and then in the distance the back of another grand town house. She felt calm today. Maybe it was knowing that her husband was content to wait for intimacy until they knew each other better. Surely most other husbands didn’t have the patience for that. He had once been a kind boy, hadn’t he? She remembered him writing forlornly after his puppy had been killed in the street by a carriage.
She’d thought that little boy had long since disappeared, but last night had shown her that she might be wrong. Maybe when they’d started writing, he’d just been a lonely boy who’d felt he couldn’t reveal the truth of himself.
These last few weeks she’d worried she was marrying a man like her father, cold and aloof. Yet she didn’t dare hope that Lord Thurlow wanted a real marriage, the kind with fondness and concern between husband and wife. No, he was too focused on his railway business, and on how she could prove useful to him.
After she dressed for the day in her new blue gown—how wonderful it felt to wear colors again!—Victoria went downstairs to the dining room, ready to join her husband on the first day of their marriage.
But there were only two footmen in powdered wigs and livery, waiting patiently beside the sideboard with its covered tureens of food. They informed her that His Lordship had long since eaten and left for the morning.
Of course Lord Thurlow was an early riser, Victoria scolded herself as she scooped eggs and ham onto her plate. She normally was, too, but after the stress of the last few weeks, she’d slept long and soundly in her comfortable new bed. From now on, she would have to awaken early every morning to eat with her husband. She at least owed him that respect.
Though she had grown up in a wealthy family with several servants, she had never been watched by footmen while she ate. She was used to going through her notebooks and planning out her day. But this morning she was self-conscious, so she finished eating quickly.
She heard someone clear her throat and looked up to see Mrs. Wayneflete standing in the doorway. The housekeeper looked her over worriedly but seemed to relax when Victoria grinned.
“Come talk to me,” Victoria said. “We didn’t have much chance yesterday.”
Mrs. Wayneflete smiled. “I wanted to tell you that I sent a breakfast basket to your family this morning, so you needn’t worry about them all alone in that nearly empty house.”
“Oh, Mrs. Wayneflete, you’re such a comfort to us. Thank you!”
The housekeeper waved away Victoria’s praise. “The girls sent a note back that they would be visiting you later this morning.”
“Wonderful. I want to see them as much as possible before they leave tomorrow.” She hesitated. “So how have your first days here been?” Her curiosity was twofold; what was it like to work for Lord Thurlow? Surely the other servants talked.
The housekeeper looked over her shoulder, then lowered her voice. “The household was in a bit of an uproar, but that could be expected, what with no housekeeper for a month. Everything seems to have quieted down, but almost like they’re waiting, if you know what I mean.”
“Waiting for what?”
“I don’t know. I’ve heard bits and pieces about the old earl, but he hasn’t set foot out of his room yet.”
“No talk of scandals?” Victoria whispered.
