in."
The door opened, revealing her husband of less than twenty-four hours. He was casually attired, having long since discarded his jacket and cravat. Ellie found herself quite unable to take her eyes off of the little patch of skin that peeped through the unbuttoned top of his crisp white shirt.
"Good evening," he said.
Ellie forced her eyes up to his face. "Good evening to you." There, that sounded as if it had come from someone completely unaffected by his nearness. Unfortunately, she had a feeling he could see right through her cheerful voice and bright smile.
"Are you settling in?" he asked.
"Yes, very well." She sighed. "Well, not so well, actually."
He raised a brow.
"This room is quite daunting," she explained.
"Mine is just through the connecting door. You're welcome to make yourself at home there."
Her mouth fell open. "Connecting door?"
"You didn't know there was one?"
"No, I thought—Well, I didn't really think about where all these doors went to."
Charles strode across the room and began opening doors. "Washroom. Dressing room. A storage room for clothing." He made his way to the only door on the east side of the room and pulled it open. "And voila, the earl's bedroom."
Ellie suppressed the urge to let out a nervous laugh. "I suppose most earls and countesses prefer connecting rooms."
"Actually," he said, "Many don't. My ancestors were a tempestuous lot. Most of the Earls and Countesses of Billington detested each other quite thoroughly."
"Goodness," Ellie said weakly. "How positively encouraging."
"And those that did not ..." Charles paused for effect and grinned wolfishly. "Well, they were so passionately enamored of one another that separate rooms—and separate beds—were unthinkable."
"I don't suppose any of them found a happy medium?"
"Just my parents," he said with a shrug. "My mother had her watercolors, my father his hounds. And they always had a kind word for each other if they happened to cross paths. Which wasn't very often, of course."
"Of course," Ellie echoed.
"Obviously they saw each other at least once," he added. "My very existence is proof of that."
"Goodness, but look how faded the damask is," she said in an overloud voice as she reached forward to touch an ottoman.
Charles grinned at her obvious attempt to change the subject.
Ellie moved forward and peered through the open
doorway. Charles's room was decorated with far less fuss and opulence and was much more to her liking. "Your decor is very nice.' she said.
"I had it redone several years ago. I believe the last time the chamber had been refurbished was by my great-grandfather. He had abysmal taste."
She looked around her room and grimaced. "As did his wife."
Charles laughed. "You should feel free to redecorate in any manner you choose."
"Really?"
"Of course. Isn't that what wives are meant to do?"
"I wouldn't know. I've never been a wife."
"And I've never had one." He reached out and took her hand, his fingers stroking her sensitive palm. "I'm rather glad I do."
"You're glad you've managed to keep hold of your fortune," she retorted, feeling the need to keep a bit of distance between them.
He dropped her hand. "You're right."
Ellie was a bit surprised he'd admitted to it when he'd been working so hard to seduce her. Materialism and greed were generally not considered seductive topics.
"Of course I'm rather glad to have you, too," he continued, his voice rather jaunty.
Ellie didn't say anything, then finally blurted out, "This is terribly uncomfortable."
Charles froze. "What?" he asked cautiously.
"This. I barely know you. I don't—I just don't know how to act in your presence."
Charles had a very good idea how he'd like her to act, but it required that she remove all of her clothing, and somehow he didn't think that concept would appeal to her. "You didn't seem to have any difficulty being your rather blunt and entertaining self when we first met," he said. "I found it quite refreshing."
"Yes, but
The door opened, revealing her husband of less than twenty-four hours. He was casually attired, having long since discarded his jacket and cravat. Ellie found herself quite unable to take her eyes off of the little patch of skin that peeped through the unbuttoned top of his crisp white shirt.
"Good evening," he said.
Ellie forced her eyes up to his face. "Good evening to you." There, that sounded as if it had come from someone completely unaffected by his nearness. Unfortunately, she had a feeling he could see right through her cheerful voice and bright smile.
"Are you settling in?" he asked.
"Yes, very well." She sighed. "Well, not so well, actually."
He raised a brow.
"This room is quite daunting," she explained.
"Mine is just through the connecting door. You're welcome to make yourself at home there."
Her mouth fell open. "Connecting door?"
"You didn't know there was one?"
"No, I thought—Well, I didn't really think about where all these doors went to."
Charles strode across the room and began opening doors. "Washroom. Dressing room. A storage room for clothing." He made his way to the only door on the east side of the room and pulled it open. "And voila, the earl's bedroom."
Ellie suppressed the urge to let out a nervous laugh. "I suppose most earls and countesses prefer connecting rooms."
"Actually," he said, "Many don't. My ancestors were a tempestuous lot. Most of the Earls and Countesses of Billington detested each other quite thoroughly."
"Goodness," Ellie said weakly. "How positively encouraging."
"And those that did not ..." Charles paused for effect and grinned wolfishly. "Well, they were so passionately enamored of one another that separate rooms—and separate beds—were unthinkable."
"I don't suppose any of them found a happy medium?"
"Just my parents," he said with a shrug. "My mother had her watercolors, my father his hounds. And they always had a kind word for each other if they happened to cross paths. Which wasn't very often, of course."
"Of course," Ellie echoed.
"Obviously they saw each other at least once," he added. "My very existence is proof of that."
"Goodness, but look how faded the damask is," she said in an overloud voice as she reached forward to touch an ottoman.
Charles grinned at her obvious attempt to change the subject.
Ellie moved forward and peered through the open
doorway. Charles's room was decorated with far less fuss and opulence and was much more to her liking. "Your decor is very nice.' she said.
"I had it redone several years ago. I believe the last time the chamber had been refurbished was by my great-grandfather. He had abysmal taste."
She looked around her room and grimaced. "As did his wife."
Charles laughed. "You should feel free to redecorate in any manner you choose."
"Really?"
"Of course. Isn't that what wives are meant to do?"
"I wouldn't know. I've never been a wife."
"And I've never had one." He reached out and took her hand, his fingers stroking her sensitive palm. "I'm rather glad I do."
"You're glad you've managed to keep hold of your fortune," she retorted, feeling the need to keep a bit of distance between them.
He dropped her hand. "You're right."
Ellie was a bit surprised he'd admitted to it when he'd been working so hard to seduce her. Materialism and greed were generally not considered seductive topics.
"Of course I'm rather glad to have you, too," he continued, his voice rather jaunty.
Ellie didn't say anything, then finally blurted out, "This is terribly uncomfortable."
Charles froze. "What?" he asked cautiously.
"This. I barely know you. I don't—I just don't know how to act in your presence."
Charles had a very good idea how he'd like her to act, but it required that she remove all of her clothing, and somehow he didn't think that concept would appeal to her. "You didn't seem to have any difficulty being your rather blunt and entertaining self when we first met," he said. "I found it quite refreshing."
"Yes, but
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