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With an expression of pure masculine satisfaction, he rolled off her and slipped one of his arms beneath her shoulders. “I’ve heard the first time can be painful for women. I’d hate to have hurt you.”
Snuggling up to his side, she rested her head over his heart and listened to the steady beat. “There was a moment where it pinched and ached, but it passed quickly.”
His lips brushed the top of her head. “Next time will be better.”
She laughed. “If it is, I might not survive.”
The chest beneath her cheek was sturdy and dependable. Trevor stroked her hair, and she wallowed in a wonderful sense of closeness. It had been so long since someone had just held her. She and Letitia hugged on occasion, but she hadn’t experienced true physical affection since her mother passed away.
Her eyes prickled, and she kissed his bare skin, her heart full to bursting. “I’m so glad I have you. I never even dreamed of having a husband who supports me the way you do.”
She was so lucky. Hopefully, she could make him even a fraction as happy as he made her.
“Sera, I—”
A flurry of knocks on the door cut him off.
“Trevor!” a familiar voice called. “Sera! Get out here!”
Seraphina’s eyebrows knitted together. “Is that… Letitia?”
“It certainly sounds like it.”
Scrambling off her new lover, her face burning, she looked around for a robe. When she spotted one, she wrapped it around herself, inhaling the scent of citrus, which indicated that Trevor had worn it recently.
Trevor, now robeless, tore off the top layer of bedding and wrapped it around himself. “Get the door. It could be urgent.”
The hammering had continued, so Seraphina laced the robe up and cracked the door open, peering around the edge. There was a tenderness between her legs, and she was very aware of her state of undress.
“He’s done it!” Letitia exclaimed, a high color on her cheeks, her eyes wide and panicked.
“Who’s done what?” Seraphina asked, trying to make sense of the statement.
Letitia stared at her as if she was an idiot. “Someone must have been watching you. Lord Sylvestor sent a note to Trevor that Lady Wembley intercepted since you were”—she flushed—“busy. Apparently, the bets laid at the Regent were settled this afternoon. Mr. Emerson was there when the news came in, and now he’s reported you to the magistrate.”
Seraphina’s stomach bottomed out, and she covered her mouth, afraid she might be sick. “For what?”
“Distributing a medicine that causes harm, or something like that. I don’t understand all the legalese.”
Her pulse raced, and her throat tightened to the point where she struggled to suck in air. She’d known this was a possibility, but hadn’t actually expected it to happen. She’d thought that once news of her marriage circulated, Mr. Emerson would give up. He had nothing to gain by doing this. It was pointless and spiteful. Was his pride so important that he had to attempt to destroy her for damaging it?
Suddenly, Trevor was behind her, a solid presence that eased the constriction, making it possible for her to fill her lungs.
“Have a footman send for Mr. Julian Vane,” he ordered. “He’s my solicitor.”
Letitia nodded and rushed away.
Trevor took Seraphina by the shoulders and turned her around. “It’s all right,” he said, looking into her eyes for the briefest beat of time. “I won’t let them take you.”
She drew in a slow, controlled breath. “What do we need to do?”
CHAPTER 29
Seraphina barely slept that night. She kept expecting a Bow Street Runner to arrive and drag her off to Newgate Prison, but it was an ungrounded fear. A woman of her standing would be summoned before a magistrate rather than dragged in like a common thief. Nevertheless, she couldn’t shake the worry, and her eyes were dry and tired by the time they ate breakfast the following morning.
Lord and Lady Wembley hardly spoke, and when they did, it was to remark upon the weather or something equally mundane. Trevor wasn’t even trying to eat. Beside her, he was drinking his way through one cup of tea after another as if he wished it were something stronger. Meanwhile, Seraphina picked at her eggs, eating just enough to stave off the hunger pangs but no more.
The messenger came near the end of the dismal meal. The butler—who practically bristled with indignation—reported to the room at large that Seraphina had been ordered to appear before the magistrate in an hour.
