Page 15 of Pride of Lyons

“Thank you, Hawkins. Lady Braeton, this is Hawkins, my butler here in London.” Fortunately, he’d told the servant of his impending nuptials and instructed the man to prepare the staff.

A deep bow from Hawkins, followed by a reverential, “Good afternoon, my lady.” The butler darted a questioning glance at Thomas, who nodded. “May I wish you both happy, my lord, my lady? The house has been rejoicing ever since I gave them the news.”

“Thank you, Hawkins.” Honoria smiled broadly at the butler, then glanced at Thomas. “Am I to meet the rest of the staff tonight or tomorrow morning?”

“I thought it best to wait until tomorrow before we leave. It has been a very busy day, my dear. You will need to conserve your strength.” Thomas shifted from one leg to the other. They needed to move along to their chambers rather quickly. He offered his arm. “Let me show you your apartments. Then you can rest until dinner, which is at eight.”

She placed her arm in his—more exquisite torture he’d never known—and they started up the front stairs to the first floor. He steered her toward the left gallery where the earl and countess’s chambers lay. “The countess’s rooms are just here.” He stopped at the first door on the right. “It is a suite with a boudoir, sitting room, dressing room, and bathing chamber.” He opened the door and led her inside. “It hasn’t been redecorated since before my mother died. When we return to London at the end of the Season, you may give instructions for its renovation to satisfy your taste.”

“Oh, Thomas, it is lovely just as it is.” His wife walked into the bedchamber, turning in a circle, trying to take in everything all at once. “I cannot believe this is to be my chamber.” Laughing, she headed for the tall cherry bed, took a running jump, and landed on the blue silk comforter.

A low groan escaped Thomas. Sight of her on the bed, while his cock was rock hard and painful, was simply too much. “I’ll send your maid to help you. Until dinner then.” He closed the door and sped two doors down to his chamber, praying his valet was not in evidence. Never before had he been so close to finishing without his characteristic control. He wrenched the door open, rushed to the necessary tearing at his fall as he fought to restrain himself. The memory of Honoria sitting on the bed like a siren, however, undid him completely. He made it as far as the washstand, then had to stop and spill himself into the basin.

Finally finished, he managed to wash up, then removed his soiled clothing, dropping it in a heap for Lockwood to take care of. Panting with all the effort, he padded to the sideboard and poured himself a large tot of brandy. Tossing down half of it, Thomas cherished the burn that settled pleasantly in his belly. Yes, his marriage was already proving more of a challenge than he’d ever considered. If he wasn’t to remain in a constant state of unsatisfied arousal, he’d better set out to woo Honoria to his bed in record time. Draining the glass, Thomas sighed. He had his work cut out for him.

Chapter Eight

Honoria stared at the empty place where her husband had been standing scarcely a minute before and frowned. Had she said or done something to make him run from the room like banshees were after him? Slowly, she slid down off the bed, suddenly at a loss for what to do.

Thomas had said her maid would be in to assist her, but she couldn’t think who that would be or exactly what they would do. The few articles of clothing she’d brought from the vicarage were made in such a way that Honoria could get into and out of them herself. She’d never had a maid before, and so had always dressed herself. The bulk of her clothing was still at Lord Danford’s and would likely remain there if Lady Danford didn’t order them to be removed and burned. Had she found out about her husband’s foul behavior toward Honoria? She fervently hoped not.

Wandering about the room, Honoria settled for sitting on a pretty little chaise, done in a delicate blue and green floral, before the fireplace. She could still scarcely believe she was married, Lady Braeton. Like a dream she couldn’t seem to wake herself from. But awake she must. As lady of the house, she would need to take charge of the day-to-day running of the establishment. Of all Lord Braeton’s homes, wherever they were in residence.

He’d said they were journeying tomorrow to Knowlton’s Keep in Sussex. She didn’t know how long they would be there, but she hoped it was long enough for her to be able to establish herself as mistress of the house. She meant to be the best wife possible for Thomas, to make him never regret that he’d married her. The first way she could do that would be to show him she could manage the house and staff with ease.

It seemed a daunting task, but she’d observed her mother run the vicarage effortlessly her whole life. Those lessons would stand her in good stead now. They might have had only a few servants, but her mother had taken them in hand and the house had run seamlessly. Once Honoria and Thomas were settled somewhere, she was certain she’d be able to do the same thing, even though it would be on a much grander scale.

The door opened, and Honoria jumped up, looking about wildly, expecting Thomas had come back already to take her to dinner.

Instead, her gaze met that of a small, brown-haired woman, older than Honoria, or so she looked, with a sweet face, though it wore a no-nonsense expression.

“I beg your pardon for startling you, my lady. I’m Paxton, Lady Rochdale’s lady’s maid. Lord Braeton asked if I could come to see to you for a week or so, or until you’d found your own.” She looked around the room and nodded. “I’ve prepared a bath for you just in here,” she pointed to the doorway, “then you may wish to rest until time to go down? I can lay out your gown for this evening.”

“Thank you, Paxon. A bath does sound wonderful.” Honoria’s shoulders sagged with fatigue. It had been a very long day. And still, dinner to come. Oh, dear. She frowned. “I’m afraid I have very little clothing to choose from in the way of gowns. I have this one,” she motioned to the dark blue traveling dress she stood up in, “and one other that is rather old and out of style. It was all that was left of my wardrobe at home. Unfortunately, the two are the sum total of my clothing at present.”

The lady’s maid seemed undaunted. “Let me unpack the older dress and see if I can freshen it up. I understand we journey to Sussex tomorrow, so you won’t be able to go to the dressmaker for additional garments.” Paxton’s face was in a deep study. “Perhaps if you will be near a major city in Sussex, you can contact a seamstress and have some clothing made there.” The maid turned, grabbed a jug of water standing beside the hearth, and hurried toward the bathing chamber with it.

“That is an excellent idea, Paxton. I will ask Lord Braeton this evening.” Thank goodness Lady Rochdale had seen fit to loan her Paxton even for a short while. The lady’s maid was already proving invaluable. She would speak to Thomas about the sad state of her wardrobe at dinner.

With that plan in place, Honoria rose and began unhooking the bodice of her traveling dress.

“My lady.”

Honoria jumped guiltily as Paxton hurried toward her.

“That is my job.” The woman quickly unhooked the bodice, drew Honoria’s arms from the garment, then quickly slid it down over her body until she stood in her stays, chemise, stockings, and shoes.

“I can remove the rest, Paxton.” The woman’s attentions unnerved Honoria. Her mother or sisters had helped her when she was at home. Since becoming a companion two years ago, she’d done for herself. It was strange to stand and let someone else undress her.

“It’s my job, my lady.” The maid had laid the traveling gown on the bed and now stood in front of Honoria, her fingers flying as she unhooked her stays. “If you will sit, my lady?”

Afraid to disobey, Honoria dropped down onto the chaise, and Paxton proceeded to strip shoes and stockings from her. When Honora stood up again, the chemise was whisked over her head, leaving her completely naked.

Blushing from head to toe, Honoria scampered into the bathing chamber, where the tub stood half full of water. A little steam rose with it, along with a delicate scent of roses. She all but leaped into the wooden structure, landing with a splash on her bottom. Warm water enveloped her, and Honoria wiggled around until her back lay against the slanted end. With a deep sigh, she relaxed and let the water and smell of spring roses soothe her. Tensions she’d been keeping in abeyance finally lifted. All that was required of her tonight was dinner with her husband. No more. No need to fear he would force her into his bed. Thank God for an understanding husband.

As she settled deeper into the water, the idea emerged that she needed to devise some way to show a return of that kindness to him. At present, she had no idea what she could do, but as she came to know him better in the next days and weeks, she’d try to discover ways to demonstrate to him how grateful she was for his generosity in all things.

With that decision made, Honoria took the ball of soap and began to rub it briskly over her skin. Thanks to Lord Danford’s treachery, this new beginning to her life might well be the best thing to ever happen to her.