Chatham frowned at the door. “I had imagined you’d prefer to be alone to eat before retiring for the night. You must be tired.”

  Amelia shook her head. “I wish to discuss the consummation.”

  His jaw clenched briefly. “Now is not the time.”

  She tried not to show her disappointment. “Why not do it now? I do not wish to put it off until I fear it.”

  His eyes widened.

  Amelia would not be put off by his shock when she spoke her mind. It was to be expected with a marriage like theirs. She wished for the truthful blunt exchanges of their initial discussion to continue.

  She removed the pins from her hair and let the long blonde locks tumble down her back. Then she slipped off her cloak, loosened the strings on the front of her gown, and kicked away her slippers.

  Chatham did not move, and greater awkwardness set in. She wet her lips, unsure how to proceed, or even if she could. “Must I make an appointment for you to take my innocence?”

  He wet his lips, too. “This is not what we agreed upon, Lady Chatham,” he argued, even as he dug a finger under his cravat and tried to loosen it. “When we are home, there will be leisure time to indulge in this sort of thing.”

  Amelia scowled, realizing she had other ideas than the usually unflappable earl she had married. She let her gown slip lower. With one shimmy of her hips, the material was pooled at her feet. Then she reached for the strings of her stays. She loosened them too, her cheeks growing warm, but knowing there was no turning back now.

  She wanted this done and out of the way.

  The room was warm, and the candlelight made it seem almost romantic, save for the reluctant groom standing stiffly across from her.

  She flung her stays away and stood before him in only her thin chemise, knowing that the firelight would reveal her figure under the sheer garment. This was as seductive as she knew how to be.

  Chatham’s breath became labored, and his face turned an interesting shade of pink. She waited for him to act.

  He only watched her, though, fists now clenched at his sides.

  Amelia saw no other choice but to move things along herself…and she reached for the hem of her chemise.

  “Stop,” he barked.

  She did, confounded by his order. “I want to consummate our marriage tonight, husband. Do husbands and wives not undress for intimacy?”

  “Sometimes they do, but not always.” Chatham groaned out loud. “There’s no cause for haste in this matter. We should take more time,” he said, glancing at the doorway.

  “Yes, but the longer we are married, the more nervous I will become about sharing your bed. I would rather have it over and done with now, so we might continue without the burden of it hanging over our heads,” she told him.

  His head whipped around. “Burden?”

  Amelia rushed to explain. “It is obvious that you were greatly let down by your first wife, and I am well aware of the differences between us.”

  “Differences?”

  “She was very beautiful, lively, and voluptuous. I am none of that. My hair does not curl about my face in pleasing waves, my breasts are small…but I’m told they will change after I have a child. I wish to make this easy for you.”

  He shuffled his feet. “Believe me, Amelia, the last thing I am doing right now is comparing you to my late wife.”

  There was embarrassment on his face.

  “So, it is all right then?” she asked, gesturing to her lack of attire.

  He nodded slowly and sighed. “As you say, best to get it out of the way before you terrify yourself and me.”

  She laughed at the idea of a man being afraid of intimacy with her. “It is not so much terror as not understanding what you expect of me there,” she clarified, pointing at the bed. “I’m an old maid, and aside from public situations, we have barely touched, let alone kissed.”

  “Ah. So that is the real issue,” he drawled. He stepped closer and reached for her face, and his touch was gentle as he held her jaw. “You wished to be wooed, and not having done so, you have taken it upon yourself to seduce me.”

  “A kiss would be enough, perhaps,” she told him.

  “I do not kiss anyone anymore,” he said firmly. “I had not kissed my wife since her betrayal became known.

  Amelia gulped. “Oh…”

  Chatham drew closer though, and she was relieved when he swooped in and pressed his lips to hers.

  Kissing was not something she had done since her scandal, but she remembered enjoying.

  Chatham’s kiss was brief, perfunctory almost.

  He drew back, frowning, and Amelia lowered her eyes, disappointed.

  She’d worked hard to maintain her dignity since her scandal, but she recalled all the excitement of those heady, stolen moments with her one and only beau.

  But this moment was not stolen. This was her life now.

  She expected something more.

  Raising her chin, Amelia rose up on her toes and kissed Lord Chatham herself, knowing that there could be no risk in doing so.

  Chatham, taken by surprise, did not resist.

  They kissed for endless minutes, her near naked body pressed against the earl in all his splendor still. The disparity excited her, and she lopped her arms about his neck as her passions ignited.

  Suddenly, the earl pulled her even harder against him, digging his fingers into her hips. He moved her toward the bed and flung the bed linens out of the way. Amelia held on to his shoulders as she was lifted and deposited there, quite willing to be swept away.

  And he did that, covering her body with his quickly, all the while kissing her lips as if he were desperate for her.

  They pressed together harder and harder with each passing moment, and before long, Amelia felt tension building down low where they touched. Her body throbbed, and she felt herself grow warm and wet between her legs. She squirmed, seeking relief.

  Lord Chatham reached between them to cup her sex and that was all it took to bring about climax. She ought to be embarrassed that such pleasures she’d discovered on her own but she did not apologize. Chatham tugged her chemise up and then fumbled with the opening of his breeches. It did not take long before he joined with her, and Amelia shut her eyes tightly against the discomfort as he took her maidenhead but a squeak of distress must have escaped her.

  He froze above her, then his movements grew fast until he groaned and shuddered.

  Amelia was stunned it was over so quickly, but they lay connected for a long moment, each panting for breath.

  Then Lord Chatham disengaged and rolled away.

  They lay side by side, staring up at the ceiling.

  “Was it as bad as you thought it would be?” he asked eventually.

  Amelia risked a glance at him. Chatham was not looking at her, and she turned her attention back to the intricate ceiling above her head, too. “It was not dissimilar from what my imagination had led me to believe,” she told him.

  “I have to go.”

  She frowned at the abrupt news. “Why?”

  “The servants will be outside soon, waiting to serve you, and I promised to return downstairs tonight. I will give everyone your apologies.”

  “Everyone?”

  “My father is hosting a house party he failed to inform me of,” he said, sounding highly displeased.

  Amelia sat up too quickly and her head spun, wincing as discomfort between her legs became evident, too. “Oh.”

  Chatham threw himself out of bed, turned his back as he redressed himself. Then he started collecting her clothing and draping them in a tidy pile at the foot of the bed. He placed her shoes neatly beside it all, and Amelia marveled at his composure.

  She had hoped there might be more tenderness after the deed was done. Apparently, she was wrong about that.

  “The servants will be here soon. You should redress before they arrive,” he announced. “I don’t know when I will return. Do you need my help?”

  “No but shouldn’t I dress and come downstairs with you?”

  “No,” he snapped. “It is much too late to summon a maid to prepare you properly to join the party and make our announcement. I would rather the gathering was not deep in their cups when we face them together.”

  Amelia sat there a long moment, stung by his rejection of her presence on his arm but seeing the sense of a delay till tomorrow. She would need at least an hour to dress appropriately for a roomful of the duke’s closest friends and family.

  Chatham shuffled his feet, and it seemed obvious that he was uncomfortable. He couldn’t wait to go. But he also seemed to be waiting for her blessing to leave the room.

  “I understand. Good night then,” she whispered.

  “Good night, my lady,” he answered, and she heard him depart the room.

  Humiliated, Amelia slipped out from under the sheet and gathered up her gown from today. When she glanced over the bed, she spotted a smear of red upon the snowy-white linen sheet and sighed. She quickly hid the proof of the loss of innocence by remaking the bed herself and then hurried behind the dressing screen to tend herself.

  By the time servants arrived with the promised supper tray, Amelia had put the awkward coupling to the back of her mind as best she could. She might have hoped for more tenderness from her husband, but as with everyone in her life so far, she had been left wanting. If she ever craved real affection in her marriage, she could only rely on the children to provide it.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Milo was relieved to find Amelia alone sitting in the garden early the next morning. He had returned to his bedchamber in the early hours of the morning and watched Amelia sleep for a while. But his heart had raced so fast, he’d felt the need to leave again. He’d stayed only long enough to collect fresh clothing and then slipped away to wait for dawn.

  But when he returned to take Amelia down to breakfast, he had found the room empty, the bed straightened. For a moment, he’d feared the worst, until he’d spotted her sitting alone in the garden through the window.

  He approached her gingerly now, rather embarrassed by his behavior the night before. He had not entirely been prepared to make love to his new wife, and when it was over, he’d made quite the mess of things.

  She turned slightly, hearing his approach, and a polite smile appeared on her lips. “Good morning, Lord Chatham.”

  “Lady Chatham,” he said, feeling a pang of unease over their formality, but it was for the best. He had to set things right between them and explain his reaction the night before, though he barely understood it himself. It was not every day that his head was turned by the body and kiss of a woman he barely knew. By her quick climax and gasp of pain as he’d taken her innocence. Last night, Amelia had somehow made him forget his anger and distrust of women in an explosion of feeling he’d been unprepared for. “May I join you?”

  “Of course, my lord. I’ve no reason to prevent you,” she answered softly.

  The continued politeness was impossible to miss. That was not a good sign. Her politeness only made him feel like a bigger fool.

  He sat beside her, uneasily perched, and folded his hands in his lap. “How are you this morning?” he asked, knowing he should have asked that last night, after he had taken her innocence—something he had not considered he would do.

  Rumors about Amelia’s scandal had filled his ears for years, and many whispered that she had been thoroughly ruined by her first love. He had not cared about that when he’d proposed, but somewhere deep down, he must have harbored a sliver of doubt about her innocence.

  Her climax and then gasp of pain had unnerved him. But the blood on his cock and her thighs had proved that Amelia was exactly what she’d always claimed to be—the innocent party in a scandal not of her making.

  “I am well. Thank you, my lord.” She inhaled, and he wondered if she would say more about the night before, but she only looked away, her attention fixed on the garden beds. “It’s pretty here.”

  Amelia was pretty, too, in her own way, though he’d never tell her so. He glanced at her pale hair, neatly captured in a serviceable bun at the back of her head again. He remembered the soft, silky tresses slipping like water through his fingers the night before.

  He gulped, caught off guard by unexpected eagerness at the mere thought of seeing her hair down again. “Yes. Father and the outdoor staff have worked very hard to make Stapleton into a private Eden for the family to enjoy.”

  She nodded and closed her eyes as the sun came out from behind a cloud, illuminating her face. As she raised it to the warmth, for a moment, Milo was mesmerized by her calm composure, something he had noticed about her before, and often lacked himself. He shook his head to break the spell. He should not think about his new wife too much. That was not the kind of marriage they had agreed upon.

  He would never follow her about like some slavishly smitten fool, as he had with his first wife. Flattering her at every turn just to see her smile. Grasping for crumbs of affection she’d doled out sparingly. He had done that once before and paid dearly for it in the end.

  “I want to speak to you about last night,” he said.

  She shook her head. “There’s no need to say anything. It is done. The marriage is consummated, and we can proceed with our lives as we agreed to do.”

  “There is every need to discuss last night. I would not like to have any awkwardness between us next time we share a bed.” He paused a moment, searching for the right words to express his regret. “I did not react the way I ought to have done. After.”

  “What are near strangers supposed to say to each other after being intimate for the first time?” She smiled slightly. “It was no worse than I had imagined, and quite a deal better.”

  He frowned. “You thought it could be worse?”

  “I was satisfied with the bedding, even though you were not keen. Now that it is over, we don’t have to speak of it again. You are free to seek comfort elsewhere as you see fit.”

  His eyes widened at her offer. “Why would I seek comfort elsewhere?”

  “Do not believe me so sheltered that I don’t know the ways of the ton and the unspoken rules of lovers. If a married man is unhappy with his choice of wife, he will always seek solace elsewhere. Wives sometimes, too.” She winced. “It is all very well to make a marriage of convenience, but quite another to forego the pleasures of the flesh entirely for some.”

  A wave of dread filled him. “What are you saying? Do you wish to take lovers yourself?”

  “Gracious, no! I have no intention of ever doing so. But if you prefer making love to prettier women, I will not make a fuss.”

  He cursed under his breath and studied her with quite a bit of shock. He inched closer. “You believed that I would be unfaithful to you from the moment I proposed, didn’t you?”

  “Men will always want someone younger and more appealing. It was not as if you enjoyed last night, my lord. You could not wait to leave the room.”

  He groaned out loud. He had promised to return to the party, but that hadn’t been what made him rush away from Amelia lying naked in his bed. “It was not that I didn’t enjoy it. It was the surprise of feeling so much again.”

  Amelia shook her head. “Please, don’t lie to me. I will not tolerate being deceived about my appeal yet again.”

  He shook his head now. “I am not lying. But I freely admit I don’t understand my reaction to you last night, even now. When my wife betrayed me, I swore I would never be led by my emotions again.”

  She gave him a look that suggested her patience was wearing thin.

  “That is not to say that I did not take lovers after her death.” He paused when she nodded, realizing she must have already known. “But they were always fleeting unions without any emotional attachment to the woman.”

  She grew still.

  “Being with you was not like being with them,” he continued, knowing that by admitting to so much, he was likely digging himself a hole from which he might never escape. Wives did not generally like to hear their husbands had spent time with courtesans. “You are the woman I will spend the rest of my life with, and even though I do not feel passionate love for you, and you do not feel it for me either, it is… it was different between us. I was not prepared for how good it felt, to be honest. And I am ashamed to say that panic set in. Can you forgive me for not being a better husband and lover?”

  She studied him for so long that he started to squirm under her consideration. But then she shrugged. “There is nothing to forgive. You said our marriage would be unburdened by any emotional connection beyond the physical requirements to get me with child, and it will be.”

  “Surely, I did not state that so coldly.”

  “A marriage of convenience is just that. Cold. Impersonal. You gain my dowry, and I will gain a home of my own and the children I long for.”

  “It was never a marriage for your dowry,” he protested weakly. But her dowry had been one consideration in his decision. “There should be more.”

  “Why do you think so now?” She folded her hands in her lap. “What more could there be?”

  He burst to his feet. “I don’t know! But something is not right between us.”

  Amelia remained seated on the bench, but her posture had changed. She leaned toward him now. “Let us revisit our agreement, then. You said you wanted a wife to manage your household. Tend your garden.”

  “Yes.”

  “A mother for your children.”

  “Yes.”

  “To father a new child with.”

  “Yes, I do want that,” he promised.

  “So, we would be lovers until I conceive…and after?”

  He stilled, imagining Amelia back in his bed, breathless from her climax again and next time completely naked. Not once to get a child…but forever. “Yes. And I swear I will do a better job of it, until you have as many children as you want.”

  She blinked, and a blush rose on her cheeks. “I had imagined we would only be lovers until I conceived one child. You propose there could be more than one.”

  He nodded. “Yes, but I should not like it to be a cold undertaking just for that purpose. It should be enjoyable for both of us.”