Page 56 of In Compromise with the Earl
Waking up with Oswald still asleep had Aphrodite treasuring those intimate moments. He looked so unbothered asleep, the tight knot in his brows was gone and so was the almost permanent downtick of his lips. He did not look haunted by the events of the past nor did he look apprehensive about the future.
Reaching out, she lightly moved his hair from his eyes. He didn’t stir from her touch, and she took the time to admire him more. Thinking about the girlhood crush she had on him so many years ago paled in comparison to what she felt now.
Knowing what she knew about him now, the tortured soul behind a handsome mask, Aphrodite had to smile wanly. It showed that one should never go off looks alone, it was best to know the soul too.
I’m not a fool, I know there are things, important things, that we have said, but we have a lifetime ahead of us to say them all.
“It’s oddly strange to know that you are staring at me in my sleep,” he murmured. “It’s even odder that I like it.” Shifting to face her, his eyes were so peaceful half-asleep, that a strange feeling of contentment rested on her heart. If only the world outside did not exist, and they could live in the world they had created.
“You love being admired?”
He reached out and tugged her to rest on his chest. Her left leg slotted between his thighs, and she felt the rampart erection he had. “No,” Oswald replied, “I only like when you do it.”
“I adore you,” she replied. “I don’t care that you are not the effusive type.”
Relieved at the teasing, loving sparkle in her eyes, he said, “I’m not. Were you expecting poems on your pillow? If you are, I happen to know a Marquess who has the gift of the bard. I can recommend him—”
“Oh, shut it,” she laughed. “I do not want some poet in my life. I have never been fond of couplets, anyway.”
His hands slid up her back. “Couplets, hm? How about Tercets and Quatrains?”
Narrowing her eyes she said, “Stop being smug.”
Laughing, Oswald switched their places and Aphrodite wrapped her legs around him while he littered her body with kisses. “We have only one plan for today,” he said while palming her breast. “We dance at the Assembly Rooms tonight. Until then—”
She grinned and tugged his head down. “Until then.”
Chapter Nineteen
Oswald grew tenser as his carriage trotted up to Tennesley Hall in London. The two weeks of their honeymoon in Bath seemed like an idyllic dream when faced with the reality of their lives.
The Hall was renowned for its grand architecture with its dark gray bricks and large windows peeking through ivy that covered its facade. Grand turrets were lofty at the corner towers of the Hall and a large marble fountain was in the middle by the drive with carefully trimmed hedges and a variety of flowerbeds that rivaled those of the Royal Palace.
Built several generations earlier, Tennesley Hall had weathered nearly two centuries of Bristol men, their wives and a few unforgettable scandals. He didn’t treasure the thought of showing Aphrodite the gallery that housed his forefather’s portraits and tell her the scandals that came with their names.
Worst off all—his mother. Oswald had no illusion that his mother had miraculously changed her mind about Aphrodite since the two had met. He didn’t want her cold shoulder at dinner that night nor did he want to buffer Aphrodite’s disappointment when it happened.
Slender fingers clasped his hand and gently pried the first Oswald had not known he had formed open. “Don’t worry, Oswald, it will be fine.”
Turning a concerned eyes to her, he said, “I wish I could be so sure, Sprite.”
“Your mother just needs to see that I am not going to abuse your trust or dishonor your Hall like your late wife did,” Aphrodite said, her gaze level and sure. “And I will prove it to her.”
Taking her hands, he rubbed them. “It might be a hard mountain to climb. When my mother gets an idea into her head, it takes a near-miracle to get it out.”
“Well, I plan to be that miracle,” Aphrodite said. “And we shouldn’t keep your family waiting.” With a begrudging nod, he left the carriage and helped her down. Aphrodite smoothed her long-sleeved fawn carriage dress, buttoned up to her neck and blonde straw bonnet; she was the picture of the demure wife.
He extended his arm and as she took it, they mounted the marble steps and were issued into a foyer, the elegantly gold-painted walls showcased a huge painting of a countryside manor in the midst of being constructed.
“That was the barebone of this Hall, a hundred-and -ninety-eight years ago,” Oswald explained. “That painting is more treasured than any rare jewel we have.”
“Yes, it is,” Leo came down the hall, his smile warm and welcoming. “More precious than the treasures of King Solomon, I can assure you.”
“I wasn’t aware they had been found,” Aphrodite said absently while gazing at the portrait. When her words caught up with her, she blushed fire red. “Ah…ah that is to say—”
Leo laughed. “No need to be abashed, welcome to your Hall, dear cousin. And I do like your intellect, and I assure you, you must have it to keep up with this one.”
“Where’s Mother?” Oswald asked, brushing off Leo’s well-meaning jab with a snort.
