The Viscount Who Loved Me (12 page)

Indeed, Violet had mentioned the possibility of a huge wedding as a method by which to combat the rumors that were circulating about Kate, Anthony, and their rather sudden engagement. Mrs. Featherington was, true to her word, remaining mostly silent on the details of the matter, but she’d let enough innuendo slip that
everyone
knew that the betrothal had not come about in the usual matter.

As a result,
everyone
was talking, and Kate knew it was only a matter of time before Mrs. Featherington could no longer restrain herself and everyone learned the true story of her downfall at the hands—or rather, the stinger—of a bee.

But in the end Violet had decided that a quick marriage was best, and since one couldn’t throw together a grand party in one week, the guest list had been limited to family. Kate was attended by Edwina, Anthony by his brother Benedict, and in due course they were man and wife.

It was strange, Kate thought later that afternoon as she stared at the gold band that had joined the diamond on her left hand, how quickly one’s life could change. The ceremony had been brief, rushing by in a crazy blur, and yet her life was forever altered. Edwina had been correct. Everything was different. She was a married woman now, a viscountess.

Lady Bridgerton.

She chewed on her lower lip. It sounded like someone else. How long would it take before someone said, “Lady Bridgerton,” and she actually thought they were talking to
her,
and not Anthony’s mother?

She was a wife now, with a wife’s responsibilities.

It terrified her.

Now that the wedding was done, Kate reflected upon Mary’s words from the previous night and knew that she was right. In many respects, she was the luckiest woman alive. Anthony would treat her well. He would treat any woman well. And that was the problem.

And now she was in a carriage, traveling the short distance between Bridgerton House, where the reception had been held, and Anthony’s private residence, which she supposed could no longer be referred to as “bachelor’s lodgings.”

She stole a glance at her new husband. He was facing straight ahead, his face oddly serious.

“Do you plan to move into Bridgerton House now that you are married?” she inquired quietly.

Anthony started, almost as if he’d forgotten she was there. “Yes,” he replied, turning to face her, “although not for several months. I thought we could do with a bit of privacy at the start of our marriage, don’t you think?”

“Of course,” Kate murmured. She looked down at her hands, which were fidgeting in her lap. She tried to still them, but it was impossible. It was a wonder she had not burst out of her gloves.

Anthony followed the line of her gaze and placed one of his large hands over both of hers. She went still instantly.

“Are you nervous?” he inquired.

“Did you think I wouldn’t be?” she replied, trying to keep her voice dry and ironic.

He smiled in response. “There is nothing to fear.”

Kate nearly burst out in jittery laughter. It seemed she
was destined to hear that platitude over and over again. “Perhaps,” she allowed, “but still much about which to be nervous.”

His smile broadened. “Touché, my dear wife.”

Kate swallowed convulsively. It was strange to be someone’s wife, especially strange to be this man’s wife. “And are
you
nervous?” she countered.

He leaned in toward her, his dark eyes hot and heavy with the promise of things to come. “Oh, desperately,” he murmured. He closed the rest of the distance between them, his lips finding the sensitive hollow of her ear. “My heart is pounding,” he whispered.

Kate’s body seemed to stiffen and melt at the same time. And then she blurted out, “I think we should wait.”

He nibbled on her ear. “Wait for what?”

She tried to wiggle away. He didn’t understand. If he’d understood, he’d be furious, and he didn’t seem particularly upset.

Yet.

“F-for the marriage,” she stammered.

That seemed to amuse him, and he playfully wiggled the rings that now rested on her gloved fingers. “It’s a bit late for that, don’t you think?”

“For the wedding night,” she clarified.

He drew back, his dark brows flattening into a straight, and perhaps a little bit angry, line. “No,” he said simply. But he did not move to embrace her again.

Kate tried to think of words that would make him understand, but it wasn’t easy; she wasn’t so sure that she understood herself. And she was rather certain that he would not believe her if she told him that she’d not intended to make this request; it had just burst forth from within her, born of a panic she hadn’t even known was there until that very moment.

“I’m not asking for forever,” she said, hating the tremor that shook her words. “Just a week.”

This caught his attention, and one of his brows rose in ironic query. “And what, pray tell, do you hope to gain by a week?”

“I don’t know,” she answered quite honestly.

His eyes focused onto hers, hard, hot, and sardonic. “You’re going to have to do better than that,” he said.

Kate didn’t want to look at him, didn’t want the intimacy he forced upon her when she was caught in his dark gaze. It was easy to hide her feelings when she could keep her focus on his chin or his shoulder, but when she had to look straight into his eyes…

She was afraid he could see into her very soul.

“This has been a week of a great many changes in my life,” she began, wishing she knew where she was going with the statement.

“For me as well,” he interjected softly.

“Not so much for you,” she returned. “The intimacies of marriage are nothing new to you.”

One corner of his mouth quirked into a lopsided, slightly arrogant smile. “I assure you, my lady, that I have never before been married.”

“That’s not what I meant, and you know it.”

He did not contradict her.

“I simply would like a bit of time to prepare,” she said, primly folding her hands in her lap. But she couldn’t keep her thumbs still, and they twiddled anxiously, giving proof to the state of her nerves.

Anthony stared at her for a long moment, then leaned back, propping his left ankle rather casually on his right knee. “Very well,” he allowed.

“Really?” She straightened with surprise. She had not expected him to capitulate with such ease.

“Provided…” he continued.

She slumped. She should have known that there would be a contingency.

“…that you edify me on one point.”

She gulped. “And what would that be, my lord?”

He leaned forward, the very devil in his eyes. “How, precisely, do you plan to prepare?”

Kate glanced out the window, then swore under her breath when she realized they weren’t even to Anthony’s street. There would be no escaping his question; she was stuck in the carriage for at least another five minutes. “We-e-e-e-ll,” she stalled, “I’m sure I don’t understand what you mean.”

He chuckled. “I’m sure you don’t, either.”

Kate scowled at him. There was nothing worse than being the butt of someone else’s joke, and it seemed especially inappropriate when one happened to be a bride on her wedding day. “Now you’re having fun with me,” she accused.

“No,” he said with what could only have been called a leer, “I’d
like
to have fun with you. There’s quite a difference.”

“I wish you wouldn’t talk like that,” she grumbled. “You know I don’t understand.”

His eyes focused on her lips as his tongue darted out to wet his own. “You would,” he murmured, “if you’d simply give in to the inevitable and forget your silly request.”

“I don’t enjoy being condescended to,” Kate said stiffly.

His eyes flashed. “And I don’t like being denied my rights,” he returned, his voice cold and his face a harsh rendition of aristocratic power.

“I’m not denying you anything,” she insisted.

“Oh, really?” His drawl lacked all humor.

“I’m just asking for a reprieve. A brief, temporary,
brief
”—she repeated the word, just in case his brain was too dulled by single-minded male pride to have understood her the first time—“reprieve. Surely you would not deny me such a simple request.”

“Of the two of us,” he said, his voice clipped, “I don’t think I’m the one doing the denying.”

He was right, drat the man, and she had no idea what else to say. She knew she hadn’t a leg to stand on with her
spur-of-the-moment request; he had every right to toss her over his shoulder, drag her off to bed, and lock her in the room for a week if he so desired.

She was acting foolishly, a prisoner of her own insecurities—insecurities she hadn’t even known she possessed until she’d met Anthony.

All her life, she’d been the one who’d received the second glance, the second greeting, the second kiss on the hand. As the elder daughter, it should have been her due to be addressed before her younger sister, but Edwina’s beauty was so stunning, the pure and perfect blue of her eyes so startling, that people simply forgot themselves in her presence.

Introductions to Kate were usually met with an embarrassed, “Of course,” and a polite murmured greeting while their eyes slid back to Edwina’s pure and shining face.

Kate had never minded it much. If Edwina had been spoiled or bad-tempered it might have been difficult, and in all truth, most of the men she’d met were shallow and silly, and she hadn’t much cared if they only took the time to acknowledge her after her sister.

Until now.

She wanted Anthony’s eyes to light up when
she
entered the room. She wanted him to scan a crowd until he saw
her
face. She didn’t need him to love her—or at least that’s what she was telling herself—but she desperately wanted to be first in his affections, first in his desires.

And she had an awful, terrible feeling that all this meant she was falling in love.

Falling in love with one’s husband—who would have thought it could be such a disaster?

“I see you have no response,” Anthony said quietly.

The carriage rolled to a halt, thankfully sparing her from having to make a reply. But when a liveried footman rushed forward and attempted to open the door, Anthony yanked it back shut, never once taking his eyes off of her face.

“How, my lady?” he repeated.

“How…” she echoed. She’d quite forgotten what he was asking.

“How,” he said yet again, his voice hard as ice but hot as flame, “do you plan to prepare for your wedding night?”

“I—I had not considered,” Kate replied.

“I thought not.” He let go of the door handle, and the door swung open, revealing the faces of two footmen who were obviously trying very hard not to look curious. Kate remained silent as Anthony helped her down and led her into the house.

His household staff was assembled in the small entry hall, and Kate murmured her greetings as each member was introduced to her by the butler and housekeeper. The staff wasn’t very extensive, as the house was small by
ton
standards, but the introductions took a good twenty minutes.

Twenty minutes which, unfortunately, did little to calm her nerves. By the time he placed his hand at the small of her back and guided her toward the stairs, her heart was racing, and for the first time in her life, she thought she might actually pass out.

It wasn’t that she feared the marriage bed.

It wasn’t even that she feared not pleasing her husband. Even an innocent virgin such as herself could tell that his actions and reactions when they kissed were proof enough of his desire. He would show her what to do; of that she had no doubt.

What she feared…

What she feared…

She caught her throat closing, choking, and she brought her fist to her mouth, biting on the knuckle to steady her stomach, as if that might actually do something to help the awful churning that had her in knots.

“My God,” Anthony whispered as the reached the landing. “You’re terrified.”

“No,” she lied.

He took her by the shoulders and twisted her to face him, staring deeply into her eyes. Cursing under his breath, he grabbed her hand and pulled her into his bedroom, muttering, “We need privacy.”

When they reached his chamber—a richly appointed, masculine room exquisitely decorated in shades of burgundy and gold—he planted his hands on his hips and demanded, “Didn’t your mother tell you about…ah…about…”

Kate would have laughed at his flailings if she hadn’t been so nervous. “Of course,” she said quickly. “Mary explained everything.”

“Then what the hell is the problem?” He cursed again, then apologized. “I beg your pardon,” he said stiffly. “That certainly is not the way to set you at ease.”

“I can’t say,” she whispered, her eyes sliding to the floor, focusing on the intricate pattern of the carpet until they swam with tears.

A strange, horrible choking noise emerged from Anthony’s throat. “Kate?” he asked hoarsely. “Did someone…has a man…ever forced unwelcome attentions on you?”

She looked up, and the concern and terror on his face nearly made her heart melt. “No!” she cried out. “It isn’t that. Oh, don’t look that way, I can’t bear it.”

“
I
can’t bear it,” Anthony whispered, closing the distance between them as he took her hand and raised it to his lips. “You must tell me,” he said, his voice oddly choked. “Do you fear me? Do I repulse you?”

Kate shook her head frantically, unable to believe that he could possibly think any woman would find him repulsive.

“Tell me,” he whispered, his lips pressing against her ear. “Tell me how to make it right. For I don’t think I can grant you your reprieve.” He molded his body against
hers, his strong arms holding her close as he groaned, “I can’t wait a week, Kate. I simply cannot do it.”

“I…” Kate made the mistake of looking up into his eyes, and she forgot everything she’d meant to say. He was staring at her with a burning intensity that forged a fire in the very center of her being, leaving her breathless, hungry, and desperate for something she did not quite understand.

And she knew that she could not make him wait. If she looked into her own soul, and looked with honesty and without delusion, she was forced to admit that she did not wish to wait, either.