“You are too pale by half. Have you second thoughts?”
“No. I’m just a little nervous,” Henrietta confessed.
“That’s natural, child,” Lady Cheswick replied with a compassionate smile. “I daresay every bride suffers a case of jitters . . . particularly about the wedding night.” She wagged a finger. “You must not be afraid to touch him, Henrietta. Virgin brides can be ridiculous about a man’s apparatus. It will not bite you. On the contrary, if handled properly, it is a source of the greatest pleasure.”
“Thank you, my lady,” Henrietta replied, fighting a blush. “But what if he doesn’t wish to . . .”
“Then you must entice him into the bed with you by whatever means necessary. Once he is under the covers, you need only take the slightest initiative, and he will surely make his desire known to you.”
“And then what?” Henrietta asked.
“And then let nature take its course. La! Child!” she exclaimed. “Do try not to look like a lamb going to slaughter. Nothing kills a man’s passion faster than a show of reluctance.” Lady Cheswick regarded her with a more sympathetic look. “Perhaps I have something that will help guide you.” Lady Cheswick rose from her bed with a groan. “Give me your hand, girl.”
She led Henrietta into the boudoir adjacent to her bedchamber. “’Tis my private library,” she explained, squinting at the books. “Look for Chorier,” she commanded.
Henrietta knelt down to examine the spines that included novels by Samuel Richardson and Daniel Defoe, plays by Hannah Cowley and Aphra Behn, and a shelf containing poetry.
While Henrietta continued perusing the titles for Chorier, Lady Cheswick retrieved a tattered volume with a chuckle. “I had nigh forgotten I had this one in my possession.”
“What is it?” Henrietta asked.
“The poems of Lord Rochester, a notorious Restoration rake. Salacious reading indeed! Perhaps I shall take this one back to my bedchamber.” She tucked it under her arm. “Have you found the Chorier?”
“Yes,” Henrietta replied and then read the spine, “A Dialogue between a Married Lady and a Maid?”
“Yes! That’s the one!” the old woman exclaimed. “And here is another!” She handed Henrietta a volume entitled Memoirs of a Woman of Pleasure. “If you wish to be educated in the pleasures of the flesh, you will find these most edifying. Even better,” she added with a cackle, “if it is his passion you wish to inflame—read them to Julian.”
“Thank you, my lady,” Henrietta accepted the books with a tremulous smile.
“All will be well, child,” Lady Cheswick reassured with a wink. “Now be off with you! It is bad form to keep your bridegroom waiting.” Lady Cheswick offered her cheek for a farewell buss. “Godspeed to you, child. I shall expect to be edified with all of the sordid details when next you return to London.”
“Good-bye, my lady. And thank you.” Henrietta took her leave from her aunt’s bedchamber with her heartbeat accelerating a little more as she approached the grand spiral staircase and Julian waiting below.
***
What the devil was taking her so long? Julian paced the marble-tiled foyer with long, impatient strides. Had she changed her mind after all? He almost wished she had—for her sake. He feared she had no idea what a devil’s bargain she had made in taking him as her husband. Until this moment, he’d thought himself an empty shell, devoid of hope. His future had seemed as elusive to him as the dreams of his youth. But Henrietta’s proposal had given him back the hope he’d lost. She offered him salvation—not just of his fortune, but of his very soul.
He’d told himself all along that he would never be worthy of her, that he could never measure up to Thomas, but he hadn’t realized how essential she was to him, how much he needed her. With her by his side, he had new faith that he could finally bury the past, and discover his future.
He glanced up at the top of the stairs to find her dressed to travel in her bonnet and pelisse. He studied her every movement as she descended the stairs. She was so much lovelier than he remembered from only a few days ago. Why had he ever thought her anything less than beautiful? Poised on the landing, she looked down at him and froze.
His chest seized as he read the hesitation in her soft gray eyes. Was she having second thoughts? Her gaze met his and held for an endless and excruciating heartbeat before her lips broke into a soft smile, a smile that radiated the welcoming warmth his soul craved.
Julian inhaled and moved toward her, feeling suddenly as if he had reason to breathe again. Meeting her at the bottom stair, he took her gloved hand in his. “So you still have not begged off?”