Page 19 of The Fearless Miss Dinah

Chapter Seven

Henry slouched down in the large wingback chair in the drawing room. He hadn’t had high expectations for the day—it being his wedding day notwithstanding—yet having one’s bride pass out while in the church house only to come to a few minutes later in tears and hysterics...

Well, it didn’t do much for a man’s confidence.

Henry looked down at the glass of brandy in his hand. He tipped the liquid, swirling it around and around. He’d tried to tell David. He wasn’t the sort of man who was built for marriage or love or any of that drivel.

Was Miss Dinah all right? No doubt, she’d been clear that a marriage of convenience hadn’t been the union she’d grown up envisioning for herself.

Actually, she wasn’t Miss Dinah Mulgrave any longer. She was Lady Stanton. Henry took a long swallow. Heaven help him, she was his wife.

Henry shut his eyes, leaning his head back against the cushioned chair. Angleside Court—his residence in Town—was calm at the moment. Uncle and his friend who’d been “visiting” them for nearly three years must now be on one of the upper floors. Aunt was away—the largest reason the house was so quiet. Henry cringed slightly. There hadn’t been time to wait for her return. No doubt, she would be furious when she learned Henry had wed without her there to approve of his bride or see to every detail. David’s boys were outside, the soft echoes of their play coming from the direction of the back lawn.

The door to the drawing room creaked. Henry’s eyes snapped open. The door was agape no more than a few inches, yet he could still make out the form of his wife peeking in.

His wife...Lady Stanton...what was he to call her? Neither of those options felt right.

“Enter,” he called.

She pushed the door open and slipped inside, shutting it behind herself noiselessly. She was no longer attired in her wedding dress but instead was in a light blue morning gown. Her hair was mostly down, long blonde curls resting against her shoulders and well down her back. Without a word, she made her way toward him, sitting in the wingback across from Henry.

“I’m sorry for this morning,” she said in a softer voice than he’d heard her use before.

He lifted an eyebrow. Sorry for passing out, or sorry they’d had to wed at all? She probably felt sorry for both but was referring specifically to passing out.

“Are you feeling better now?” he asked.

Her eyes darted to him, then immediately returned to the empty hearth. “Mostly, yes.”

It would probably take some time before either of them truly felt well again.

“I hope you are not too disappointed to have missed your own wedding breakfast,” he continued.

She gave him a single shoulder shrug. “It is only food—I am sure there are many more breakfasts in my future which I shall enjoy.”

“Are you hungry now? Dinner will be served soon. Or, if you prefer not to eat with the rest of my family tonight, I can have a tray sent to your room.”

She didn’t answer right away, her gaze still on the hearth, and Henry watched her closely. No doubt, the idea of sitting down to dinner with all his family was intimidating. She hadn’t had the luxury of meeting his family during a courtship and growing to know them before becoming mistress of the house. He wouldn’t think any less of her for excusing herself and taking a tray in her room.

And yet, for some inexplicable reason, he wanted her to take dinner with him. Some of that same unnamable heat that he’d felt last night after helping her dismount spread through him once again.

Henry forced his gaze away from her. He wished she would dine withthem, surely that’s what he was feeling. A desire for her to come to know the family she was now a part of and would be living with. It was simply that he wanted her to find her footing, so to speak, among the household.

“Before anything else,” she began, “I felt we ought to speak on...a few subjects.”

Ah. He had wondered if she would require that they set boundaries. Well, speaking of such things—laying out expectations and deciding beforehand what was and wasn’t acceptable—was always a good idea.

He looked her way once more. She was still pale. And looked a bit nervous, too. Suddenly, he felt quite bad for her. Henry, at least, had resigned himself to bachelorhood years ago. Most likely, this young woman before him had fully expected a love match to be in her future—she was pretty enough it wouldn’t have been hard to secure one. Now, that would never be.

Henry set his glass of brandy down on the side table, then rested back in his seat and intertwined his fingers. “Very well, but before we begin, I have a question to ask you.” One that would hopefully allow them to ease a bit into what would undoubtedly be an uncomfortable conversation for them both. “What would you like me to call you?”

Her eyes met his at this. “Pardon me?”

“Do you prefer Lady Stanton”—gads, saying that out loud was difficult—“my ladyship? Countess? What would you prefer?”

The corner of her lips ticked up for the briefest of moments. “You didn’t add Goddess Divine to the list of options.”

Henry froze, his gaze moving to her. She was teasing? At a time like this? And yet, so long as she was teasing, she must not be horribly overwrought. It was a good sign, wasn’t it? “A terrible oversight on my part,” he said, “and I beg your forgiveness.”

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