Page 57 of The Viscount's Diamond Bride
Chapter Nineteen
“Do not swear by the moon, for she changes constantly. Then your love would also change.” – Romeo and Juliet, William Shakespeare.
Graham woke slowly, blinking in the sunlight. It took him a moment to recollect that he was not in his own bed, in his own room. The curtains were slightly ajar, letting light stream into the room.
His arm had gone to sleep. Twisting, he saw that Ursula was still sleeping, turned away from him, her head resting on his arm.
A perfect night.
He lay there for a moment, watching her. She was so peaceful, her lashes fluttering on her cheeks, her hair lying silkily on her neck.
Beautiful, he thought, fighting the urge to lean forward and kiss her.
Graham did not intend to wake Ursula. He tended to rise earlier than she did, and a quick glance at the clock told him that it was past his usual hour.
Gingerly, he slid his arm out from underneath Ursula’s still form, and sat up slowly, stretching.
He was still naked from the night before, the sheets sliding against his skin and pooling luxuriously in his lap. Ursula was naked too, her bare shoulders rising out of the nest of blankets. Graham gently lifted the blanket to cover her shoulders carefully so as not to wake her. It was cold in the mornings, after all. He clambered out of bed, picking up his discarded clothes, and slipped noiselessly out of the room, pulling the door closed behind him.
Dressed, washed, shaved, and ready for the day, Graham descended the stairs, humming to himself. He had work to do around his estate and Morrison would come with him which would keep him away from Ursula until that evening.
No matter,he thought,we’ll eat breakfast together. I will assure her of my regard, and when I return tonight, we will have a proper conversation about our future together.
Why should we not find as much happiness as any other wedded couple?
With this happy, optimistic thought in mind, Graham burst into the breakfast-room.
At once, he locked eyes with his mother, and his spirits dropped.
Margaret sat at the head of the table, sipping tea. The table was set for breakfast, but she had touched none of the food.
“You have risen later than usual this morning, Graham,” she remarked coolly. “It is not like you.”
Graham flashed a smile. There was an iciness about his mother’s demeanour that put him on edge. He did not like it.
“I was awake until late last night,” he responded, taking a seat beside Margaret. “Where is the post?”
She flashed a brief smile. “Richards brought in the post just now. There it is.”
Graham flicked briefly through the envelopes. Many were addressed to him, but a good number of them were addressed to Ursula, or to them both. Invitations, no doubt.
Feeling his mother’s eyes on him, Graham glanced up. She was watching him closely, a tightness in her face. When their eyes met, she flashed a brief smile.
“Are you expecting anything in particular?” she asked coolly.
Graham blinked. “I… No. Why do you ask?”
“Oh, no reason.”
“Have you received correspondence this morning?”
“No,” Margaret answered, a trifle more quickly than was usual. She set her teacup down with a decidedclack. “I have something to speak to you about, Graham. It’s rather serious.”
“Oh?”
“Yes,oh. It’s not proper for a viscount to carry his wife in his arms across the courtyard and through the house, in front of the eyes of all the servants. I hope not to see such a display again.”
At once, the last of Graham’s good humour evaporated. Tossing aside the letters there was nothing there that needed his immediate attention so he turned to his mother.
