B005R3LZ90 EBOK (11 page)

Sally was stunned. Hadn't George insisted there was to be no physical intimacy between them? Her probing eyes met his.

He closed the door behind them, bent his head toward her and spoke softly. "I wish others—including the servants—to believe you are in my wife in every way." Then he straightened up, walked to the window that looked out over the street, and he drew the red velvet draperies open. "Don't fear, Sally dear, I shan't be robbing you of your virginity."

Her heart fell. But she did so wish for him to rob her of her virginity! She wished to become his wife in every way, but of course, that could never happen. Not when he would always be in love with a woman cold in her grave. And Sally knew she could never measure up to the woman she was attempting to replace. A deep flush crept up her face.

The scarlet did not escape George's notice. He grabbed her by her shoulders and peered at her face. "By Jove! You're blushing! I did not think Sally Spenser—I beg your pardon, Sally Sedgewick—ever blushed. Surely my mentioning your virginity is not the source of your embarrassment?"

No one had ever mentioned the word
virginity
before in front of Sally. Oddly, the description embarrassed her. She would far rather be a well-pleasured lady that a pure virgin. Well- pleasured by George, that is. "I've . . . It's just that I've never heard that word spoken before."

He dropped his hands and chuckled. "But of course you've seen it in print and are acquainted with its meaning?"

"Of course." How she wished the blasted color would leave her hot cheeks!

"Do you object to the sleeping arrangements?"

"You mean to sharing your bed, albeit in a most chaste manner?"

"That is what I was referring to."

"I have no objections. I, too, wish everyone to believe us truly married." The words sounded hollow. As would be their marriage. How could it be a marriage when that one, all-important component was missing? How could she hope to be a part of him when they did not share that most intimate bond? She felt bereft. She would never be truly married to the man she loved with all her heart.

From the second floor, they made their way up to the nursery.

Georgette flew to Sally. "Are you truly my mother now?"

George answered. "She truly is." He stooped to pick up his daughter, and Sally bent to lift Sam. She glowed as George gathered the four of them together and spoke throatily. "A family at last."

Georgette bent to her brother and spoke in a voice like that used with babies. She pointed to her father and said, "Papa." Then she pointed to Sally and said, "Mama."

Sally watched the toddler for a reaction. Smiling, he clutched his arms around her and said, "Mama."

A gush of tears rushed from her eyes as she gathered Sam closer and wept. All the while, a smile arched across her wet face. She tried to brush away the tears, but more kept coming. She looked up at George to assure him of her happiness and found that he, too, was crying.

* * *

At seven that night, Appleton and twins called for George. It was just as well, Sally decided. Every minute she spent with her groom would only result in making her wish this were a true wedding night. It was best he go off with his bachelor friends.

"We're going to meet Blanks for cards," Melvin informed George.

Poor Glee, Sally thought. Her husband had forsaken her, too.

That Appleton and the twins had no obvious compunction over robbing her of her husband on her wedding night sent the scarlet to Sally's cheeks once again. They had no compunction because they assumed George had already taken his conjugal rights.

Her thoughts flitted back to this afternoon as she had stood with George within their bedchamber. All of the servants were conspicuously absent from the entire second floor. It was as if they expected Lord and Lady Sedgewick to consummate their marriage in that very bed that very afternoon. She felt a deep and gnawing void.

The gentlemen each drank a glass of Madeira and commented on the wedding before departing for a night of whatever it was fun-loving bachelors did.

Only her husband was not a bachelor. Nor was Gregory Blankenship.

* * *

The men had barely left when Sally, sitting in the drawing room with her embroidery, heard the sound of a carriage coming to a stop in front of the townhouse. She peered from the window and watched as Glee, an emerald cloak covering her blazing hair, disembarked. Still another person who had no compunction about disturbing one of the freshly married Sedgewicks on their wedding night.

A moment later Glee joined Sally in the drawing room. Tossing her cloak to the butler, she scurried into the room and dropped onto the settee, which matched the one on which Sally sat. "This reminds me terribly of my own wedding night."

That her wedding night was so widely discussed was painful to Sally. "How could this possibly remind you of your wedding night?"

"I'm going to tell you something I've never told anyone before. Not even Felicity," Glee said.

Sally arched a brow.

"I trapped Blanks into marrying me. He had wanted no part of being married and no part of me."

Sally shook her head. "I don't believe you. One has only to be around you two to know how deeply you're in love."

"We are. Now."

"But I know you loved him when you married."

"I did. He didn't."

Sally threw down her sewing. "Surely you're jesting." That was it. Glee was telling Sally this to make her feel better on her fruitless wedding night. "Blanks is completely besotted over you."

Glee's rosy lips lifted into a smile. "I believe you're right, pet, but it wasn't always so."

Sally's back sank into the settee. "Pray, you must tell me the whole story."

"As you know, I've always been madly in love with Blanks."

Sally nodded.
As have I with George.

"And when I found out he would lose his fortune if he wasn't wed on the day he became five and twenty, I simply proposed marriage to him. I told him it wouldn't be a real marriage, but a marriage of convenience."

Exactly as ours is
. "Go on," Sally said, unable to remove her gaze from Glee.

"He turned me down. Even though it meant losing his fortune, he hated the idea of marriage so thoroughly, he rejected my offer."

"Then how--"

"I forced him to compromise me."

"Surely you didn't---"

"Knowing George was coming to find Blanks and me, I pulled down the bodice of my dress so George would think Blanks had been taking his pleasure on my body, and my brother would force Blanks to offer marriage."

"Glee! How positively wicked!"

"Yes, it was rather, was it not?"

"Did your plan work?"

"Oh yes. Dear Blanks was too much the gentleman to tell George of my wickedness. I do believe Blanks actually hated me for a short while, but I knew what I did was for his own good."

"How well you knew your husband—better than he knew himself."

"As you know George," Glee said, shooting Sally a concerned glance. "I have finally come to realize something you've managed to hide from me for a great many years."

"What is that?" Sally asked.

"Your love for my brother."

Glee's comment was rather like having the wind knocked from her. Hadn't she carefully tried to conceal her feelings for George, especially after he married the flawless Diana?

Glee continued. "I've only just now come to realize you've adored George since your first visit to Hornsby when you were . . . what? Thirteen years of age?"

Sally hung her head nodded. "Twelve, actually."

"And for ten years there has never been anyone for you except George?"

"I'm so wicked, I still loved him ever after he married Diana."

Glee's face grew solemn. "You're not wicked. Quite the contrary. You love my brother and his children selflessly."

Sally feigned a laugh. "Those who think I'm selfless have no idea how much pleasure I derive from Georgette and Sam."

"My niece and nephew are indeed fortunate to have you—as is their father." Glee's voice softened. "I give you six months."

Sally's brows hiked up. "Six months for what?"

"To win George's heart, of course."

"That has never been my expectation."

"Then why did you marry him? I know you don't give a fig for rank."

"We—George and I both—thought it would be good for the children -- and as the viscountess I can dismiss that old dragon of a nurse."

Glee's eyes widened. "You married in order to dismiss a nurse?"

"Oh, there were other reasons. I don't at all approve of how George is destroying himself, and I mean to be a thorn in his side."

Glee laughed. "My dearest Sally, trust me when I tell you, you will come to mean much more than a thorn to my brother."

Dare she allow herself to hope for more? It seemed unfathomable that George could ever love another woman. And even more unfathomable that she could ever be that woman.

Chapter 10

Sally was unable to stay awake until George got home. With her maid's help, she had spent rather a long time on her toilette before going to bed. She felt terribly awkward commanding her own lady's maid. Would she ever become accustomed to having a personal maid? George, dear man, had engaged the young lady only the day before their wedding. With Hettie's help, Sally had attempted to preserve her wedding-day curls. The young maid also helped remove the fine gown Sally had worn that night and assisted her into a thin ivory linen night shift Sally had never before worn.

After Hettie left the bedchamber, Sally applied the perfume that was her own mother's blend. As she had slipped between the soft, cool linen sheets, she grew nervous. After all, she had never before slept with a man. Though this wasn't really like sleeping with a man. Still . . .

She woke the following morning to a darkened room. For a few befuddled seconds she had forgotten where she was. Then she remembered. She spun around to face the sleeping man who was her husband. He had never before seemed so big. Indeed, his sprawl covered well over half the bed. She propped herself up on one elbow and observed him. Her breath quickened at what she saw: golden skin covering supple muscles. From one well-formed shoulder to the other his body covered an expanse as long as four books stretched end to end. Though the hair on his head was the color of burnished gold, a thatch of thick, dark hair trailed from his chest to below the rumpled sheets. Even the strong smell of port about him was pure, intoxicating masculinity.

Her heart expanding to fill her chest, she continued to peruse her sleeping husband. When had he come in the night before? What had he and his friends done? Obviously, he had imbibed great amounts of liquor. Had he also lost great amounts of money at the tables?

It suddenly occurred to her that he could wake at any moment and find her—nearly naked—staring longingly at him. Were she possessed of a large bosom she thought she would rather like the idea of George seeing her in her night shift. But the vision of her boniness would not be one to ignite desire. Better that she cover herself.

Reluctantly, she left their bed, thinking to dress for the day, but how could she strip bare, knowing that he could awaken at any moment and behold her? Oh dear, what was she to do? A screen was what was needed for this shared chamber.

But were she to request a screen, it would seem she was a most unnatural wife. Even though she was a most unnatural wife, she hardly wished to announce that fact to the servants—and hence to all of Bath. She would simply have to learn to dress while at the same time keeping her private parts covered.

She tiptoed to her linen press and selected a muslin morning dress. With one hand holding it out to cover her, she attempted to strip off her night shift. When the nightshift fell to the ground, Sally hurriedly stepped into the morning gown. Then she sighed.

It was her sigh that woke him.

He bolted upright in the bed and turned in her direction. Raising a mischievous eyebrow, he said, "Need help with your buttons, my lady?"

Her heart raced. Actually, she did need the help, but she was too embarrassed to ask him. In fact, she was too embarrassed to have two consecutive cognizant thoughts. All she could think of was her husband's brazen masculinity as he sat up in their bed, devilishly handsome without a shirt.

She began to move, unaware of what she was doing but vaguely thinking that for some inexplicable reason she wished to be near him. She reached the bed, then turned her back to him. "I beg that you fasten my buttons, my lord."

"I will—when you call me George. I'm your husband, Sally, not your lord and master."

He was her husband. How she loved to hear him say it! It made their marriage seem more real. "Yes, George."

She felt the warmth of his rough hands brushing against the bare skin of her back, and a ripple of delight shuddered through her. Once he had completed his task, he placed his hands on her shoulders and spun her around to face him.

Having glimpsed a view of herself in the looking glass, she knew how wretched she looked. Like the fleeting glory of a beautiful flower, the curls she had longed to preserve had vanished during the night and were replaced by coarse straight strands that resembled freshly shorn straw. "Hettie will curl my hair soon," she uttered self-consciously. "I know how wretched I look now."

"You don't look wretched at all," he said in a gentle voice. His glance lowered. "A most becoming dress you're wearing. Is it new?"

She nodded. "I daresay everything I wear from here onward is new. Glee said none of my old clothing was fit for the Viscountess Sedgewick, and I don't wish to be an embarrassment to you, George." As if the very fact of his marrying her was not an embarrassment. He could have done so much better.

As he sat there, the lower part of his body beneath the tangled sheets, his handsome face fell into a frown.

"What's the matter?" she asked.

"We'll have to think of a way to ensure more modesty within the walls of this room. I regret there's no dressing room here." His glance darted to the part of his body that was covered by the sheets.