What she didn’t like, apparently, was being the belle of the bedchamber.
But you must promise that I will be the one to choose when we share a bed, however long it takes.
Edwin sighed. It was that last part that stymied him. She’d spoken of his siring an heir, so she couldn’t mean to deny him her bed forever. And her plan was a sound one—to wait until they were more comfortable with each other to become intimate. So why did it gnaw at him that she’d even ask such a thing?
Because it made him wonder yet again what precisely was wrong with him. Despite accepting his kisses, despite her flirtations and her teasing, she didn’t want to be close the way a man and wife should be. It oughtn’t matter to him—he’d expected his marriage to be more of a business arrangement than a love match.
But he’d also expected to bed his bride. It was almost unbearable to think of being denied that.
Blast it, he was being ridiculous. Clarissa was just having a fit of nerves. She wouldn’t go on like that for long. Even if she did, he certainly knew how to tempt a lady into his bed. How hard could it be with a woman like Clarissa, who’d responded to his kisses with enthusiasm?
Assuming she didn’t rescind her agreement to marry him.
Fortunately, he arrived at the town house to find her waiting for him, dressed in a rather elaborate ensemble involving feathers and bows and an enormous hat with a transparent veil trimmed in lace. She looked rather like a gift box wrapped in net and oceans of silk, utterly inaccessible.
It didn’t help that her mother awaited him, too. “How lovely of you to take Clarissa driving in Green Park as an apology for missing last night’s dinner!” she exclaimed.
Thank God Clarissa had thought to provide a suitable lie for where they were going. “I was very sorry not to be here,” he said, which was the truth. His brief kiss with Clarissa in her bedchamber hadn’t been nearly enough.
“Well, a drive in the park should be quite invigorating at this hour. And she does enjoy early drives. As do I. Indeed, I thought I’d go along, but Clarissa says there’s no room in the phaeton for me.”
“Yes, I’m sorry,” he said quickly. “My equipage is small, I’m afraid. But if you want to go, you could ride behind on my tiger’s seat, and I’ll leave him here.”
As he’d expected, Lady Margrave was aghast. “Are you mad? Balance on the back of your phaeton? It sounds very uncomfortable. Why, I could easily fall right off! For shame, Edwin. I can’t believe you’d even suggest such a thing to your future mother-in-law.”
Clarissa’s lips twitched. “Yes, Edwin, how dare you?” she said, a mischievous twinkle in her eye.
That little glimpse of Clarissa’s usual teasing calmed all his fears. They would be fine. He would make it so. “I suppose I temporarily took leave of my wits.” He held out his arm. “Why don’t we go, then, before everyone descends on the park?”
“Of course,” she said brightly.
They headed out the door at precisely 9:00 A.M. As they walked down the steps, he murmured, “Thank you for coming up with a suitable tale for your mother. You know how I hate lying.”
“Because you’re very bad at it. I wasn’t about to risk your undoing everything by attempting to deceive Mama. You would never be convincing.”
“True.” It further heartened him that she seemed to know him so well sometimes. Although there were other times . . .
No, he would not think of that. They would have years to come to know each other better.
As they left in the phaeton, she sat stiffly in the seat, her hands gripping her reticule. Was she nervous? Worried?
Wishing she was not on her way to be married to him?
He ventured to set her at ease with a compliment. “Your gown is very . . . er . . .”
“Let me guess—‘fussy, frilly, and overdone,’” she said with a certain belligerence.
“Pink.”
Her rigid stance softened. “Oh. Yes. I suppose it is.”
“You look fetching in pink. Not that you ever look less than fetching in anything else, but it just seems that pink brings out the jade of your eyes and the ruby of your lips and—” He broke off as he realized he was babbling like that pup at the theater the night before last. And he never babbled. “You look lovely.”
She eyed him through the net that draped her face. “Thank you, but I know it’s a fussy ensemble. It was my only one with a veiled hat. And I wanted to have at least the semblance of dressing as a bride at my wedding.”
Regret stabbed him. “I’m sorry that’s being denied you.”
“Stop apologizing. Count Durand is the one to blame. You’re just trying to make things better.”
Well, at least she was aware of that. They rode some time in silence, until he realized that his solicitor’s office wasn’t much farther. “Did you read over the settlement?”
“Yes.” She stared ahead at the road. “You weren’t exaggerating when you said I would find it more than generous. But I do have one observation.”