Marriage to a Mister (A Daughters of Regency #1) (26 page)

"Well, I'm famished, how about you? I would say some dinner is in order as the sun is starting to set."

The thought of the setting sun made her nervous since the time to retire approached, but she vowed to not cower when Evan came to their room. Tonight she would ask him to join her, and while she felt a little anxious at the thought, the appeal of him holding her, maybe even kissing her, let her know that she was ready.

***

"You seem tired," Evan said to her as he shuffled papers around on the end tables the servants had shoved together, providing him a makeshift desk so he would not have to keep clearing their breakfast table.

Fleur sat in a chair, her book closed on her lap. She opened her eyes and blinked. "I am. I don't normally stand on my feet for hours cataloging. I had fun going through all the rooms and making notes, but who knew it would be so draining."

He walked over and grasped her hand in his own, an affectionate overture they had become comfortable with. "Why don't you go on to bed? I won't be much longer."

She nodded and walked through the room to leave. As she reached the stairs she wondered what he would do while she readied herself for bed.
Have a drink?
, she wondered. She wished she could have one, her nerves tightening with the thought of what she would ask him this evening .

When she reached her room, she slipped inside and closed the door softly, ringing for her maid as she walked further into the room. She couldn't wait to slide into bed and relieve her aching feet.

She slipped out of her shoes and sat upon her bed, lifting her skirts to unfasten her stockings. She heard her maid come in, and she silently stood to be unlaced. As she worked her out of her dress and corset, she thought about Evan. How he would come upstairs into their room when he thought she was already asleep, and how he would slip into the chair by the window, but how tonight that would change.
 

She raised her arms as the maid slipped her nightgown over her head, and she turned to be tied. She thanked and dismissed her before sitting down to brush out her hair and wash her hands and face, taking her time and hoping Evan would come up soon if she dawdled.

She felt somewhat silly delaying any longer so she climbed into bed, rubbing the soles of her feet on the cool soft sheets, trying to soothe the ache.

It felt like hours before she heard the turning of the doorknob, and when she did she held her breath, closed her eyes and then exhaled before sitting up and looking at him.

He stopped in the middle of the room and shrugged out of his coat, and when he turned to see her sitting there awake, he stared into her eyes, surprised. Embarrassed, she looked down at her lap and played with the sleeve of her gown.

"I thought you would be asleep by now," he said, reaching for his cravat.

"My feet ache," she said simply. "And I wanted to ask you something."

He slid the scarf from his neck and threw it on the chair with the coat. "Oh?" he asked, walking towards her.

He sat down at the foot of the bed, reaching to push the covers up. Before she could protest, he grabbed one of her feet and brought it to his lap.

"W-what are you doing?" she asked. "You don't have to do that."

"Allow me," he said as he slowly kneaded the arch of her foot. "What was it you wanted to discuss?" He moved down to her heel, rotating his thumb and applying slight pressure.

She swallowed and gripped her hands in her lap. How was she going to ask him to stay now? When he was touching her like that?
 

"Give me your other foot," he said, breaking into her thoughts.

"What?"

"The other one, this one feels better now, does it not?"

She flexed her foot, rolling it from side to side. "Oh, yes it does." They looked at each other as she brought her other foot around and placed it in his hands.

She watched as he first gently touched the bottom of each of her toes, moving down to the arch of her foot, rubbing upwards before again rubbing her heel.

"You were saying?" he prompted.

"I was thinking ... Evan, I want you to stay here tonight."

He looked at her, confused, and she waited patiently for him to understand. When he did, his hands stopped. "Are you certain?"

She nodded. "We are going to spend our lives together, there is nothing untoward about ..."

She could not bring herself to finish, and she hated that she sounded so missish. "I trust you," she said quietly.

He looked at her for a moment before standing, and she slipped down further into bed and settled on her side as he blew out the candle, the room going dark.

She heard the rustling sound of cloth, and as her eyes accustomed themselves to the moonlight, she caught sight of him. He was wearing his trousers and his white shirt, loosened, as he had done since the first night, but this time she looked her fill, as he leaned towards her, slipping into the bed on his knee as he sat slowly. He raised the blanket and slid underneath.
 

She had not realized how close he would be, how small the bed became once they both were inside. They lay there, she facing him and he on his back. Suddenly he rolled to his side, and she saw he was surprised at how close their faces were.
 

"Hello, there."

She laughed. The tension in her stiffened shoulders eased.
 

She raised her eyes to his when she felt him reach across and take her hand in his own. She watched as he twined their fingers together, moving his thumb in small circles over the soft inside of her palm before moving down to her wrist.
 

He raised her arm slowly, bringing it towards him, and he laid a delicate kiss to the inside of her wrist.

Her breath hitched ever so slightly, and looking into his eyes she felt him move their hands down between them. She tucked her head further down, closing her eyes tightly shut and squeezing his hand gently.

They fell asleep that way, her hand in his, as they finally faced one another.

THE CHICKEN

Evan's eyes were closed but he could feel the first signs of the sun beaming into the room to wake him. He felt warm, much warmer than usual. He blinked, trying to open his eyes fully as he stirred, but he did not get far. His arms were full, one pinned and the other clinging, and his cheek rested upon something soft that was definitely not his pillow.

He moved his hand down and felt the curve of a tiny waist, and as his hand moved further still he followed the trail of an arm to a hand that clutched his own chest, clasped tightly onto his shirt. His eyes flew wide and he calmed when he remembered he was sharing a bed with Fleur.

Sometime during the night they had become entangled with one another. His arms wrapped about her waist and her head tucked under his chin as she held onto him.
 

He knew she would be frightfully embarrassed if she woke and discovered their positions, but part of him wanted her to wake so he could see her blush prettily, see how she would react to his touch. But another, larger part did not want to chance it. He did not fancy frightening her off, not when they had come this far.
 

He knew he wanted her, to make love to her, but he wanted to woo her, but that was not entirely true either. What he really wanted was to tell her that he loved her. That he was happy he had married her, and that having the honor of spending his life with her meant everything to him.
 

He wondered if it was time, and he knew the answer was yes, he only needed the proper time and setting. Tonight he would confess his feelings to her.
 

 
He closed his eyes, willing his own state of need to abate. He heard her take a deep breath and sigh, having no idea how the heat of her breath on his chest affected him.
 

Knowing it was time to leave, he reached up and uncurled her fingers from his shirt and slid his arm from beneath her. She shivered slightly, the loss of his warmth obvious to her even in her sleep.
 

He pulled the blankets higher to cover her, looking at her for a moment longer before dressing for the day. He had to hurry if he wanted to have time to eat his breakfast. He still had a lot of work to accomplish, and now a romantic evening to plan.

***

Fleur opened her eyes, hunger slowly waking her, and the first thing she realized was that Evan was gone. She could not help but think back to their first night together, when she had awakened alone. She wondered if they were back to square one, when he would run away anytime something changed between then, and she hoped she wasn't right.

She rolled to her side and saw a letter resting atop Evan's pillow. Thinking it odd, she picked up the letter and turned it over in her hand. The front said only
Fleur
.
 

Forgetting her hunger, she ripped into the missive, smiling when she saw it was Evan's handwriting.

My lady,
 

By now you are awake and probably cross with me. Please know I did not want to leave you this morning but I had urgent business with Briggs.

I would like to invite you to join me this evening for dinner. It is very fine out, as you will have noticed, and I have asked the staff to provide us a light dinner of your choosing that we can take out-of-doors. I will be waiting for you by the willow trees looking over the pond. Shall we say sunset?
 

Yours,

Evan

She folded the note again and held it in her hand, sliding it under her pillow. She smiled; Evan was trying to woo her and the thought made her giddy. She knew she should probably try to fall asleep again but she also knew she would never be able to. Excitement filled her, and she pulled the letter out and read it twice more, smiling, before readying herself for the day.

Later that afternoon, she sat in the morning room reading. It was a little past noon and Evan was off somewhere with Mr. Briggs, plotting the land for new rent homes to be built next spring.
 

She had tried thinking about decor for the big house, tried writing letters, and now she tried reading. In short, she was bored, but no, it was more than that. She was excited about her outing with Evan later that night and could not sit still.

She closed her book and stood to return it to its place on the small low shelves that lined the room on both sides of the fireplace. She slid the book into place and then huffed, standing there turning and looking at the clutter of Evan's papers.

What was she to do now? She was so used the bustle of servants, to Julia prattling in her ear, and even her father. She missed them, that was certain, but mostly she needed to find something to occupy herself.

She could take a walk to town, but that would take up too much of the afternoon, and she wanted to take her time dressing tonight, for him to find her beautiful, to know she had taken special care.

She could write to Julia again, but her first letter had yet to be answered, so she was at a loss.

She walked over to the window and stared outside into the front garden, then it dawned on her: dessert. She had completely forgotten to add it to the menu for this evening.

She walked to the back of the cottage and made her way into the kitchen and smiled, running her hand along the wood table in the middle of the room. When she was younger, before her mother passed, they would spend time in the kitchen. Her mother was never what one would call a conventional English lady, being from France, and Fleur laughed thinking how much Julia resembled her, in looks and in manner.
 

"Can I help you, milady?" Cook asked as she rolled and crushed fresh strawberries.
 

Her hair was white and her smiling face was open and friendly, and Fleur remembered that she was Briggs' mother.
 

"Mrs. Briggs, how are you getting along? Adjusting well?"

"Of course, milady, though I will be happier once we're all in the big house. This kitchen is small, the fire smokes something fierce, and the windows are too high for me to open properly, but I get along all right."

Fleur smiled at the woman's forthright manner and instantly liked her. She reminded her of Mrs. Davis back at Norfield. "I'm glad to hear it. I came down to ask about dinner. It seems as if completely forgot about dessert. Is there anything that can be done? Nothing fancy, but maybe you have some tarts or something lying about?"

Cook smiled. "Don't you worry about that, milady, I've planned to prepare some strawberry tarts, perfect for handling outdoors, they are. And Mr. Woolf said they were your favorite, he did. I was just on my way out for some more eggs to start them when you came in."

Fleur wondered when Evan had spoken to Mrs. Briggs about her affinity for strawberries and realized he must have sneakily told cook this morning to prepare them for her. "That is perfect, thank you for thinking of it. Though let me go and fetch the eggs, you are so busy." Fleur turned to walk outside but faltered at the cook's shocked face.

"I can't be sending you out to fetch and carry for me, milady!"

"I assure you it's fine, I always did at home when I was younger, and I am well familiar with a chicken coop."

"That's different. A child is a child and a lady is a lady and it would not be fitting ..."

Cook trailed off at the disappointed look on Fleur's face.
 

"Oh please, Mrs. Briggs, I am going absolutely mad with nothing to do."

Cook sighed and nodded. "Very well, but mind you be careful. It won't do for you to slip and dirty your dress."

Fleur beamed. "I will, I promise."

She picked up a basket next to the outer door and walked outside. Glad of something to do, she practically skipped down to the barn.

She took her time, looking around when she heard loud banging coming from the stables and she heard the voices of Evan and Mr. Briggs.

"We will need more wood before we can mend the other stall, Briggs. Hold this like so, would you, Little Thomas?"

Fleur hid behind the large doors as she looked inside and watched Evan hammering on a stable door. His shirt was loose with no cravat, coat, or waistcoat in sight. His sleeves were pushed up to his elbows, rolled to stay in place.