And so she opened to him as she had not done before, even during that one night of unbridled passion. She opened everything that was herself and gave. She gave her heart and her love, without speaking a word. And she received too. For when he finally stilled and spilled his seed in her, the warmth and the wonder of it spread to fill her whole being.
Or so it seemed. Neither of them spoke.
But though he disengaged from her and moved off her, he stayed within her arms, his head nestled against her bosom, his legs entwined with hers. And she heard him sigh and felt him relax into sleep.
She nestled her cheek against the top of his head and closed her eyes and felt a strange, seductive happiness.
18
“Aunt Julia is coming in the carriage for me at ten,” Chloe explained at breakfast when Ralph asked about her plans for the day. “We are going shopping. I need new clothes. I hope you do not mind.”
“Of course not,” he said. “You have carte blanche.”
“Oh.” She smiled at him. “You may regret that.”
“I think not.” He did not actually smile in return, but there was a certain warmth in his eyes. They had woken at the same moment early this morning. He had still been in her arms, his head pillowed on her shoulder. He had sighed with what had sounded like contentment, kissed her breast, and proceeded to make lingering, almost tender love to her.
It had seemed like tenderness. It had seemed like lovemaking.
“Perhaps,” she said, “I have wildly expensive buying habits. And perhaps I have a quite uncontrollable attraction to the gaming tables. Perhaps I adore glittering objects, especially if they are made of diamonds.”
He leaned back in his chair, his coffee cup in one hand, and actually did smile.
“And that puts me in mind of all the family jewels locked away at Manville,” he said. “They are ancient and priceless, and no modern woman would be caught this side of the grave wearing any of them. I have not bought you anything except your wedding ring, which we really must have made a little smaller for you. I will buy you jewels for our reception and ball.”
“Oh,” she said, “there is no need.”
“On the contrary.” He raised his eyebrows. “There is every need. Besides, it will give me pleasure. I hope it will give you pleasure to wear them.”
Chloe was sure her cheeks were flushing. “It will,” she said. “But there is still no need.”
“I looked in at the study on my way here,” he said. “Lloyd was not there yet, but there was a formidable pile of mail on his desk. Mostly invitations, I would imagine. He should be there by now. Shall we go and look? And I asked him yesterday to start compiling one of his famous lists of what must be done in preparation for our ball. It would be strange indeed if the list is not already as long as my arm. Shall we see it?”
It felt lovely, she thought as she took his arm, doing things together, planning together, being part of each other’s lives. It was more than she had expected.
There were indeed invitations. Mr. Lloyd had already divided them into three neat piles, one for probables, another for possibles, and a third for improbables. Chloe read every one, as did Ralph, and discovered that the secretary’s judgment was nearly faultless. They decided to accept all but one from the first pile, only one from the second, and none from the third.
“And the ball, Lloyd?” Ralph asked.
Mr. Lloyd produced two lists. One was for all the preparations he could think of. Chloe looked it over and added a few more points. The second list, a very long one, was of prospective guests. It was divided into the same three categories as the invitations: probable, possible, improbable.
One set of names on the improbable list caught Chloe’s attention.
“The Marquess and Marchioness of Hitching and family?” She looked inquiringly at Mr. Lloyd.
He looked downward in apparent confusion. “I thought it possible, Your Grace—” he said. “That is—”
Ralph came to his rescue. “I would have put the names on that section of the list too,” he said, “if I had put them anywhere at all.”
“You will be sure to send an invitation to the marquess and his family, Mr. Lloyd,” Chloe said.
“Are you quite sure?” Ralph was frowning at her.
“Yes,” she said, though her legs felt distinctly unsteady. “I will not allow a little mischievous gossip from last year to cause me—or you—to slight perfectly innocent people by excluding them from our guest list.”
“Very well, then, Lloyd,” Ralph said. He tapped his finger on another name, one on the main list. “But here is someone you may exclude.”
Chloe leaned forward to read the name. “Lord Cornell?” she said. Did Ralph know, then?
“He is not welcome in my home,” Ralph said. “Or within half a mile of my wife.”
Ah, he did know.
They spent a few minutes longer discussing both lists. But Chloe could not delay long. Her aunt would be coming soon.
She went about the rest of the day with something of a spring in her step. Her marriage was progressing far better than she had expected when she suggested it, even if it would never be the stuff of which dreams were made. This morning she was going shopping with her aunt, something she always enjoyed. And this afternoon she would go visiting with her mother-in-law and Nora, who may not like her yet but would go out of their way to smooth her entry into society as the Duchess of Worthingham. And she would hold her head high. She had nothing of which to be ashamed, after all.