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That was not what he’d expected. He stopped and turned to her. “Do you not have comfort and security, Phoebe?”

She stared at him. “I don’t think I’ve felt it for some time. Although I don’t believe I realized it until recently.”

Tightness pressed against his chest. Did she still feel that way? Had their marriage not changed that for her? He frowned. What did he need to do?

“My lord.” A footman approached them. “Your rooms are ready. If you’ll follow me, I’ll show you to them.”

Freddie knew where the room was. He’d been coming to the estate for decades. But he was content to allow the footman to lead the way. It would give him a chance to consider what Pippy had said, and whether there was anything he could do to change it.

Freddie followed behind Pippy as they walked up the stairs to their chambers. How could she not feel secure with him? Was it something he’d done? Or something he’d said? He thought back, trying to remember what they’d spoken of on the journey from London.

They’d spoken very little. A few comments about the weather and Pippy protesting that he’d purchased too many clothes for her. But aside from that, it had been a rather quiet journey.

The footman swung the door open and stepped aside to let them enter.

Pippy stopped at the threshold, standing frozen in place. Was something wrong? Was the room not to her liking?

Freddie peered over her head. It looked as it always had—as he remembered it when his uncle was the occupant. The same light wood panel walls and pale blue curtains. Even the large poster bed in the middle of the room looked just as it always had. His cousin, Archie, had not yet made it his own.

But what had caused Pippy to pause?

He scanned the room again, looking for the problem. Only then did his gaze settle on the bed. The one lone bed.

Thunder and turf. How had that never occurred to him?

He looked at the footman and dipped his head. “Thank you, that will be all.”

The footman bowed and walked down the corridor toward the back staircase.

Freddie put his hand on the small of Pippy’s back.

She flinched and went rigid.

“I’ll speak to my aunt about giving us our original rooms.” He took a step back.

“Wait,” she said in a small voice. “You need not go to the trouble. This will be fine.” She sounded anything but fine.

“I will sleep in the dressing room. My valet can find a place with Fin’s man.”

She sucked in a long, slow breath. “No, that is unnecessary. We are man and wife, are we not? I suppose this had to happen sometime. Now is as good a time as any.”

Hers was not a resounding approval. And Freddie could not help wondering just what she thought would happen? Was it because she felt no security with him? Or was it something else entirely?

Seven

Pippy kept her hand on Freddie’s arm as they walked into the church. Even with the gray clouds covering most of the sky, it was still brighter than what they found inside the nave.

Freddie led her down the aisle and stepped behind her when they came to a bench. A small wooden partition separated three pews from the rest of the nave.

“Move all the way in,” Lady Dalmeer said, waving them forward.

Freddie put his hand on her back—she was pleased she only flinched slightly; she was becoming more accustomed to it. He guided her in first. She would sit next to the pillar at the far end of the pew, which did not disappoint her. The pillar would provide something for her to lean against. Something she worried she would need. She’d slept very poorly their first night there.

It was not entirely Freddie’s fault. He’d been a perfect gentleman and stayed entirely on his side of the bed. Indeed, he’d left most of it for her, not that she’d used it. She’d made certain no part of her came close to crossing over to his side.

Freddie, for his part, had fallen into a deep slumber—he even snored—rather quickly. She smiled as she thought back on the quiet, rhythmic snorts he’d made. It was rather endearing, even if he likely would not think so.

Had she not been so anxious, it might have lulled her to sleep.