Page 52 of Lady, Behave
Afterward, his wife slept for an hour or more, her arms flat upon the linens, snoring. He watched her, laughing at the symphony of her snorts, and when she woke herself up, he went to her. “Have I tired you completely, my darling?”
“I need sustenance. Coffee. Strawberry pie, preferably, but whatever Cook has to hand.”
“You shall have it.”
“You, too, sir.” She pushed up on an elbow, the sheet falling to reveal how keen she remained for his attentions. “I hope we are not finished with my lessons.”
“Never!” He hovered over her.
“Good.” She shook back her hair, held him there with a hand to his nape, and let him enjoy himself. “I asked Imogen to tell me if she and Lex had…you know…done this.”
He raised his head. The taste of her skin was better than any wine. “You did?”
“I did. They hadn’t. So…you see…you have to show me all the ways to make you happy.”
“To make us both happy? Oh, I will do that.” He went back to putting his tongue to her breast.
“Mmm. That’s lovely. What of the other one? You’ll kiss me there?”
“Darling?” He locked his gaze on hers.
“Yes?”
“Do be quiet and let me focus on my instructions.”
She squirmed. “Go to it.”
“Thank you.”
And he did.
Chapter Fourteen
Afew autumnleaves of red and gold fell upon the window ledge outside their bedroom suite before they ventured out to be seen by others. They were on their honeymoon and enjoyed the seclusion. Two weeks after their wedding, Addy invited Laurel and Cass to dinner. The next week, she invited her sister and cousin again, plus Lord Grey and Captain Fitzroy, to even the numbers. Colonel Lord Welles was unavailable, having ridden off to Berkshire last week when a letter arrived for him at his lodgings that his father, the Duke of Ruscombe, was ailing badly.
Cass did not speak of Welles in private. Laurel said naught about her current relationship with Grey, if, indeed, they were now more than acquaintances. Addy noted the four guests conversed easily at the table, and so she was content not to ask her relatives for any details.
She had asked Gyles if he wished to have his parents to dine, but he had dismissed the idea. “One day, perhaps. Papa still has ambitions of obtaining that Holbein, and I will not have him resurrect the matter. Not to me and certainly not to you.”
From Grandpapa’s estate manager, Addy had no new information on the disposal of the old gentleman’s private collection. Gyles declared he wished her not to question the estate manager. “My father’s desire to have the painting was nothing more than a convenience to object to my marrying you. He signed the papers to acknowledge you, and that is as it should be. I’ll countenance no more of his focus on family scandals and inter-family rivalries. You are mine, and I am yours, and he will accept it absolutely.”
That, too, she applauded, and worried no more one day the Duke of Stonegage would come for her and some artwork he wished to seize simply by mere declaration.
“Shall we go to London soon?” he asked her one morning as she emerged from her boudoir and her bath. Frowning, he quickly folded the newspaper he read.
“I think so. We should call upon a few people as a married couple. I also want to find a few apothecaries whom Mister Algood recommends. For samples for my remedies, of course, to take home to Yorkshire with us when we go north. I’d like to make excellent ones to help the tenants in their maladies.” She examined the gowns in her wardrobe and picked a seafoam gingham from the rack. But then, concerned about his silence, she put it back and turned to examine him. “What’s the news of the day that fails to please you?”
He rose from his chair and went to stand by the fireplace. The day was hot, and they needed no fire in the house.
Addy went to him, her dressing gown billowing around her in her stride. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing wrong, really. In fact, quite right.”
She took his arm and circled round him. “Tell me.”
“In the ‘News of the Ton’ column in theChroniclethere is an article about those who are departing Southhampton for Baltimore in America.”
“And? Who goes?”
