She could practically feel Carter’s sigh of relief.
Leaving her darling Lancelot was difficult, but she was far more distressed at leaving Ravenswood, worried that once they left this idyllic place and returned to the distractions of society they would leave the best part of their relationship behind.
Was passion enough to keep their marriage close? Would she be able to hold her love inside herself, be content with having whatever part of himself Carter was willing to share, as she had so boastfully proclaimed before their wedding?
Secretly she feared she would not, for now that she had come to know him so well, she did not want a small part, she wanted all of him.
Chapter Fifteen
They arrived in London by late afternoon. Since Carter’s bachelor apartments were hardly a suitable place to bring a young bride and it was too far into the Season to find a town house to rent in an appropriate neighborhood, they went directly to the duke’s palatial mansion. It was not the arrangement that Dorothea would have preferred, but she was not consulted on the decision and it seemed waspish to complain.
The duke was not at home when they arrived, and they were informed by the very proper butler that he was not expected to return until very late that night. A circumstance that seemed to please rather than distress his son, which was understandable, given the strained relationship between the two.
And yet Dorothea could not imagine any members of her family acting in the same manner. If they were moving into one of her relatives’ homes, they would have been welcomed with open arms. She supposed her genuine puzzlement over the difference was merely another example of her provincial upbringing.
Though he might not have made the effort to personally greet them, the duke did not stint on their accommodations. They were given an entire wing of the house, which included separate apartments for each of them. There were two massive bedchambers, connected by a sitting room, separate dressing rooms, and a shared bathing room that contained the largest porcelain tub Dorothea had ever seen.
In addition, there was a study for Carter and a sunny private parlor for Dorothea, complete with upholstered furniture, two matching bookcases, and a desk. It was cozy and feminine, the perfect spot to entertain a few close female friends or write her letters.
Carter expressed regret that it was too late to begin a proper tour of the house, but Dorothea was relieved. She was tired from the journey, wound a bit tight with nerves, and feeling completely intimidated by the duke’s housekeeper. Mrs. Simpson’s London counterpart, the aptly named Mrs. Steele, possessed none of country housekeepers’ warmth or kindness. Instead, she was a sharp-eyed, thin-lipped woman of indeterminate age who seemed to lack the ability to smile. Even partially. Dorothea was hardly anxious to be in her company.
After being shown to her rooms, Dorothea dismissed the housekeeper, removed her bonnet, and tossed it on the bed. Her maid, Sarah, was traveling in the servants’ coach with their baggage and expected to arrive shortly. In the meantime, she would explore her immediate surroundings and hope that Carter would make an appearance soon. It all felt rather strange and lonely without him near.
She opened one of the several doors in her bedchamber and stepped into her private parlor. Shades of pink dominated the color scheme, which was unfortunate, since Dorothea was not particularly fond of pink. She made a mental note to see about having the draperies replaced at once, hoping that might be enough to change the overall atmosphere of the room. If not, the wallpaper would next fall victim to redecorating.
The antique furniture in the room was elegant and beautiful, but the arrangement of the pieces was awkward. Adding a second task in her mind, Dorothea squinted her eyes, trying to imagine how the writing desk would look near the windows and the upholstered chairs in front of the marble fireplace. That would be an easier fix than the draperies. All she would need was an hour or two and three strong, able-bodied footmen to get the room set to her preferences.
Leaving her private parlor, she threw open another door and walked into the sitting room adjoining her bedchamber with Carter’s. It was done in various shades of green that conveyed a calm, cozy element Dorothea immediately liked.
She strode through the room, heading directly toward the door that led to Carter’s chamber, and yanked it open. To her great disappointment, the room was empty.
Of course, this did make it the ideal opportunity to snoop about in private. The room was enormous, nearly twice the size of her own. Her bedchamber contained dainty furniture accented by soft feminine pastels with small floral patterns and stripes on the walls, curtains, bed linens, and rugs. Carter’s bedchamber was done in subdued, masculine tones of dark green, taupe, and gold. The furnishings were solid and heavy, crafted from the finest woods. Idly she ran her open palm over the carved mahogany bedpost, marveling at the size and beauty of the piece.
Her children would be conceived in this bed. She shivered with delight at the notion, imagining her husband’s strong, muscular, naked form, covered in a fine sheen of sweat as he labored to bring them both to climax. Finally sated, they would fall into a deep sleep, wrapped around each other, with Carter’s naked chest pressing into her back.
The door from the hallway unexpectedly opened and Dorothea smiled with anticipation. Gracious, all she need do was think about making love with her husband and he magically appeared. How perfectly marvelous!
“Was there something you needed, my lady?”
The voice was alarmingly rough and unfamiliar. Dorothea tried not to openly frown as she stared at her husband’s valet, a short, thin man with a decidedly nasal voice.
“I was looking for Lord Atwood.”
“I believe he is in the library.” The valet’s face remained impassive as walked to the mahogany wardrobe, opened it, and began to fuss with Carter’s clothing. After a long moment, the servant ceased his work and turned back to her. “Is there anything I can do for you, Lady Atwood?”
She compressed her lips into a tight line, wishing she had the nerve to tell the man to leave so she could be left in peace to continue her exploring. But her courage failed, for though his expression was blank, Dorothea felt certain the valet was silently smirking at her.
Gathering her dignity, and striving to look as much like a haughty noblewoman as possible, Dorothea turned, but a noise at the bedchamber door startled them both. Carter entered the room, then pulled up short, clearly confused to see his wife and valet in his bedchamber at the same time. “Is anything wrong?”
“Goodness, no,” Dorothea answered with a forced smile. “I was just wondering where you were.”
“Excuse me, my lord.” The valet bowed and hastened from the room.
“I don’t think he likes me very much,” Dorothea mumbled.
“Dunsford?”
“Yes, your valet. Though he is only a servant, he does have opinions, you know,” Dorothea muttered.
“Hmm. I’ve never actually thought much about it.”
There was a knock at the door, and at Carter’s command it opened. Dunsford reappeared with two footmen in tow, one carrying Carter’s luggage and the other holding a pitcher of steaming water.
The valet seemed momentarily startled to find her still in the room, but he lowered his gaze and began instructing the other servants as to where things should be placed. When all was set to his satisfaction, Dunsford dismissed the footmen, yet remained in the chamber.
Ignoring them both, the valet opened Carter’s wardrobe and began pulling out a selection of garments. It was at that moment that Dorothea realized the valet had chosen formal clothes more suitable for an evening away from home.
Dorothea’s mouth fell open. “You’re going out?”
The two men turned to stare at her, Carter’s face hardening into a mask while the valet’s frown was comically shocked. Apparently no one was supposed to have the audacity to question Lord Atwood about his comings and goings, even his wife.
“I will return at a more convenient time to finish my duties,” Dunsford declared in a disapproving tone before
