Page 62 of The Lyon Whisperer
At least her teal gown with its crushed-velvet trim and dainty capped sleeves fitted her to a tee, cinching in at the waist and showing a fair bit of cleavage.
Her father had not been generous with his time, but he had never balked at her shopping habits. As a result, she entered this marriage with a plentitude of gowns, hats, gloves, and shoes in the first stare of fashion.
She could make the clothing last. She would make that clear to Chase in the discussion she intended to have with him tonight.
But how to broach the business with her prideful lion of a husband?
She paced the antechamber, her mind awhirl.
Her discussion with him at the breakfast table had inspired her.Heinspired her.
Confiding his concerns for Britain’s displaced veterans had touched her deeply, not only because he recognized the desperate plight of the poor men, but because he’d shared his inmost thoughts with her.
Little did he know, nothing else he might have done would have meant more.
She decided then and there what she would do to help him.
What she learned while making preparations for that eventuality had been eye-opening, to say the least. If she read the situation correctly, and she very much feared she did, her husband was not flush with cash.
Not that it changed how she felt about him.
She held her husband in the highest esteem.
That he was handsome was plain to see. Tall, rugged, hair and eyes dark as night, he emanated confidence and power. Anyone could see he was born to lead. Merely looking at him made her stomach erupt with flutters.
But there was so much more to him than met the eye.
She admired him, like no man she’d ever known. He was every inch the Iron Lion who’d led his men to victory, placing himself in the front line, she had no doubt.
Now, with the war all but won, he continued to care for his soldiers’ well-being, where others dismissed their needs—once their services were no longer required, of course.
He also didn’t shirk his landowner responsibilities the way too many noblemen did—something she knew of thanks to some of the books and tracts she and her club read.
Hadn’t they’d traveled to Copsham to investigate the possible arson? Of course he had wanted to see to it himself. Then, with nary a thought for his own safety, he led the charge when another fire threatened the area.
He even had a care for her well-being. To help her grow accustomed to her new role as his wife, he’d moved them to Wimbledon, with its illusion of country life.
The sound of a door opening and closing in the corridor announced Chase had exited his chamber, presumably to venture downstairs.
She gazed at her closed door.
It tends to improve with time.
The memory came to her, unbidden. He’d said it this morning, referring to the act of making love.
She closed her eyes, replaying scenes from last night, in his bedchamber, as she had many times throughout the day. She could not help herself. Despite the discomfort of their joining, the preceding moments, when he brought her body to life, were beyond anything.
He’d boasted when they made love the first time, she would come to him. Last night she’d knocked on the adjoining door under the guise of discovering what he had learned of the suspected arson. But he had read her desire for him all over her face, and she had admitted to it without a moment’s hesitation.
Today it occurred to her, he may have made love to her last night merely to claim his husbandly rights, and thereby cement the legality of their marriage.
She would hate to find out it was only her dowry which had motivated him.
But it would be far better to know the truth than harbor any illusion to the contrary. Head held high, she let herself into the corridor.
Amelia hesitated in the open doorway of the parlor. Her breath caught at the sight of Chase, tall, broad, and impeccably dressed in his black superfine evening clothes.
He stood at the credenza, his broad-shouldered back to her. As if sensing her presence, he paused, apparently in the act of pouring from a crystal decanter into two wine glasses she now saw were set out before him and swung around to glance at her. “Good evening, Amelia.”
