the chambers would be permeated by those noxious paint odors which aggravate my stomach so terribly." She moved closer to him, slipping her arm into his. "I should have to move into your chambers."
A slow smile eased across his dark face, and he spoke huskily. "I'll summon the painters today." He winked.
At least in the bedchamber activities, she must please him. Now she must set about to become the perfect wife.
They walked past the door to his bedchamber--that place where she had first seen her husband undressed. To her dying day she would be able to visualize him standing there with the fire framing his glistening, beautifully sculpted body.
"The next door will be to the duchess's bedchamber," he said.
It proved to be in exactly the same ornately formal mode as the duchess's chambers at Glenmont Hall, but here the bed was exquisite. She did not think she could change a thing about it. The full tester which stood high above the bed was done totally in gilt that had been shaped like a crown. From it flowed ivory silken draperies embroidered with silken threads in the same shade of turquoise of the velvet draperies that gathered beneath the ivory. How comforting was the image of closing those velvet draperies around the bed--around her husband and her--on a cold winter night.
She forgot all about acting duchessy and let her inner bourgeois self be revealed. "Oh, my goodness, it looks like a magnificent state bed!"
His eyes flashed with pleasure. His pride over this bed must be greater than any scorn he could hold toward a hausfrau wife. "It is an exact copy of a state bed that my maternal great grandfather, the Duke of Baley, had made for Charles II. My grandmother loved it so much, he had it copied as a wedding gift for her."
"I shall feel like a queen sleeping there!" Her sparkling eyes met his, and her breath hitched when she saw the way he stared at her. Hunger heated his dark, smoldering eyes.
She moved into his arms as his crushing kisses ignited her searing passions. As they always did.
* * *
That night at dinner they were joined by Margaret and Caroline. The sisters were separated by the same age difference as she and Kate but were so much closer than she and Kate. (It was some consolation that no one--not even the man she had married the previous year--was close to exasperating Kate.) Seeing how affectionate these sisters were with each other made Elizabeth lament that Charlotte, her youngest sister and the one to whom she was closest in temperament, had married.
She and Charlotte would always be close, but their relationship had changed almost as dramatically as had Charlotte's station when she chose to marry a Methodist clergyman of modest means. The two stayed so busy with their ministry in the East End that Elizabeth seldom saw Charlotte, and when they were together, Elizabeth had come to understand that Charlotte's husband had supplanted her as the one with whom Charlotte now shared all her confidences, all her innermost thoughts.
Would Elizabeth and Philip ever be that close? She could wish away all his riches in order to toil alongside him day in and day out as did Charlotte and her Mr. Hogart.
How Elizabeth hoped that these new sisters would take her into their family circle in the same way she and her sisters had welcomed Anna.
"When does Clair return from Aunt Hopkins-Feversham's?" Philip queried his sisters as he poured Bordeaux into his wife's glass.
Caro, the youngest, rolled her eyes. "I daresay he's using aunt's proper name for your benefit, Elizabeth. We've always just called her Auntie Hop-Sham."
"Owing to the fact that as young children Hopkins-Feversham was far too difficult for us to pronounce," Margaret explained in her soft voice.
"But to answer your question, Aldridge," Caro said, setting down her fork and regarding him in much the same manner as an authoritative governess, "Clair said she hoped to return around the same time as you and your bride. She was utterly vexed that
A slow smile eased across his dark face, and he spoke huskily. "I'll summon the painters today." He winked.
At least in the bedchamber activities, she must please him. Now she must set about to become the perfect wife.
They walked past the door to his bedchamber--that place where she had first seen her husband undressed. To her dying day she would be able to visualize him standing there with the fire framing his glistening, beautifully sculpted body.
"The next door will be to the duchess's bedchamber," he said.
It proved to be in exactly the same ornately formal mode as the duchess's chambers at Glenmont Hall, but here the bed was exquisite. She did not think she could change a thing about it. The full tester which stood high above the bed was done totally in gilt that had been shaped like a crown. From it flowed ivory silken draperies embroidered with silken threads in the same shade of turquoise of the velvet draperies that gathered beneath the ivory. How comforting was the image of closing those velvet draperies around the bed--around her husband and her--on a cold winter night.
She forgot all about acting duchessy and let her inner bourgeois self be revealed. "Oh, my goodness, it looks like a magnificent state bed!"
His eyes flashed with pleasure. His pride over this bed must be greater than any scorn he could hold toward a hausfrau wife. "It is an exact copy of a state bed that my maternal great grandfather, the Duke of Baley, had made for Charles II. My grandmother loved it so much, he had it copied as a wedding gift for her."
"I shall feel like a queen sleeping there!" Her sparkling eyes met his, and her breath hitched when she saw the way he stared at her. Hunger heated his dark, smoldering eyes.
She moved into his arms as his crushing kisses ignited her searing passions. As they always did.
* * *
That night at dinner they were joined by Margaret and Caroline. The sisters were separated by the same age difference as she and Kate but were so much closer than she and Kate. (It was some consolation that no one--not even the man she had married the previous year--was close to exasperating Kate.) Seeing how affectionate these sisters were with each other made Elizabeth lament that Charlotte, her youngest sister and the one to whom she was closest in temperament, had married.
She and Charlotte would always be close, but their relationship had changed almost as dramatically as had Charlotte's station when she chose to marry a Methodist clergyman of modest means. The two stayed so busy with their ministry in the East End that Elizabeth seldom saw Charlotte, and when they were together, Elizabeth had come to understand that Charlotte's husband had supplanted her as the one with whom Charlotte now shared all her confidences, all her innermost thoughts.
Would Elizabeth and Philip ever be that close? She could wish away all his riches in order to toil alongside him day in and day out as did Charlotte and her Mr. Hogart.
How Elizabeth hoped that these new sisters would take her into their family circle in the same way she and her sisters had welcomed Anna.
"When does Clair return from Aunt Hopkins-Feversham's?" Philip queried his sisters as he poured Bordeaux into his wife's glass.
Caro, the youngest, rolled her eyes. "I daresay he's using aunt's proper name for your benefit, Elizabeth. We've always just called her Auntie Hop-Sham."
"Owing to the fact that as young children Hopkins-Feversham was far too difficult for us to pronounce," Margaret explained in her soft voice.
"But to answer your question, Aldridge," Caro said, setting down her fork and regarding him in much the same manner as an authoritative governess, "Clair said she hoped to return around the same time as you and your bride. She was utterly vexed that
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