Once Upon a Tower
Page 32The key was to make a mental list of what needed to be done in order to ensure that Edie enjoyed her first experience, particularly given the pain that women apparently felt. That was the one eventuality for which he couldn’t plan, since by all accounts the amount of pain varied from woman to woman. Some felt a sharp pang and others something more distressing. Many women, he’d been given to understand, felt no pain at all.
He had hopes that Edie would be one of those, but either way, he was responsible for her pleasure, if not rapture, during the rest of the evening. She was demonstrably responsive, so he didn’t have to worry about frigidity. It didn’t take long to come up with a step-by-step plan for their wedding night. Images popped straight into his head, thanks to the illustrated volumes found in the ducal library.
His mind went hazy at the memory of how Edie’s breath grew choppy, and how she gave a little cry every time he suckled her. The mere thought of sinking into her hot depths, seeing her eyes widen with ecstasy, feeling her, slick and tight around him . . .
Gowan ended up with his head thrown onto the back of the tub. Damn, but he was sick of this. Once he was married, he didn’t want to touch himself ever again. Ever.
He would be touched only by Edie. Her hands . . .
Her body.
Seventeen
Edie dreamed about dancing with Gowan. They were sweeping through a ballroom in larger and larger circles, in perfect step together. And then she stopped in the middle of a twirl, pulled his head to hers, kissed him.
And woke up feeling happy. It turned out she had slept through breakfast, so she practiced for a few hours until it was time for luncheon. When she made her way downstairs, she found Layla seated in the dining room, looking rather the worse for wear, but more cheerful than she had been in some time.
“Darling!” she cried. “Do join me. Jonas will be here presently.”
“As if I would do something so uncouth,” Layla responded, waving her hand, and then dropping it onto her forehead with a muffled groan. “I have a terrible head, darling. You can’t imagine. You father and I were up—”
“I hope you managed to have a rational conversation?”
Layla giggled. “I wouldn’t remember. I don’t think so. Rabbits, darling. Rabbits!”
It was Edie’s considered opinion that rabbiting through the night, though it might be a good start, was not a sufficient way to heal a marital breach.
“Luckily for you,” Layla continued, “I can plan a wedding even if my head does feel as if it’s about to cleave in two. Not to mention going shopping: we must buy some presents for your new little daughter. Well, technically your half sister-in-law or something like that.”
Edie bit her lip.
Layla’s eyes softened. “You will be a wonderful mother to that poor little scrap, Edie. You’ll see. The moment you see her, your heart will melt.”
Layla’s heart melted at the sight of any child: she stopped at every perambulator to coo and admire. But Edie tended to hang back. Children were so small and looked so fragile, and she had no idea what to do with them, or what to say.
“We’ll pay a visit to Egbert’s Emporium this very afternoon,” Layla continued. “She’ll need a doll, of course. Perhaps a toy farmyard as well, and one of those new dissected maps of England.”
“England, Scotland, whatever. I saw the most adorable doll a few days ago. It came with three bonnets. If only I’d known, I would have bought it, but your father hadn’t mentioned Susannah to me.”
Edie had a good idea why the earl hadn’t told his wife. The very idea of orphaned little Susannah made tears well in Layla’s eyes, and her father had obviously chosen silence over a difficult conversation. She reached across the table and squeezed her stepmother’s hand. “You will visit, won’t you? Please?”
“Of course! I shall be the most indulgent auntie any child has ever imagined. I’ll warn you now that I intend to shower her with ribbons and slippers and all kinds of fripperies. Between us, we’ll make up for the fact she lost her mother. ”
At that moment the door opened and Edie’s father entered. Unlike his wife, he looked groomed as ever. Edie had the greatest difficulty imagining her father less than immaculately dressed, though, of course, she didn’t really care to pursue the image.
Once he was seated, and the first course was served, he announced, “I have come to a conclusion about your wedding ceremony, Edith.”
Edie nodded. She had made up her mind that she would refuse to wait four more months.
“The duke hopes to force my hand by purchasing the special license. Recognizing that fact does not mean that I am necessarily unsympathetic. Besides, rumors will do the damage, whether we wait four months or not. It’s most unfortunate that Lady Runcible was told of Kinross’s request.” He flicked a disapproving glance at his wife that told Edie she was right: rabbiting did not magically cure marital disruption.
Luckily, Layla had her head down on her arm and didn’t see his silent reprimand.
“I have decided that I will allow the marriage to happen in the very near future,” he pronounced. “The wedding party will be small, naturally. I shall ask the Bishop of Rochester to perform the rites; he and I were at school together.”
“However, I shall insist that the duke either stay in London with you for some months, or, if he must travel back and forth to Scotland, that he do so while you remain in the city. I intend to see to it that there be no question in anyone’s mind about whether the marriage had to be speedily effected due to a breach in proper behavior.”
“But what if Edie finds herself enceinte within a week or so?” Layla asked, raising her head. “Then it will make no difference whether she stays here or goes to Scotland.”
“I won’t,” Edie said hastily. “I’m sure that never happens.”
“It happened to your mother,” her father said, unforgivably.
Layla’s chin stayed admirably high. “The Duke of Kinross certainly seems remarkably virile.”
“I don’t know where we would stay in London!” Edie babbled, her heart racing in response to the tension around the dining room table. What would happen to them once she left? She had played the role of family peacemaker for most of her father’s marriage.
“The duke owns a large town house a short distance from here,” her father said, his tone as measured and cool as ever. “You will have to learn your husband’s holdings, Edith. He holds a castle and its accompanying lands in Scotland, and as well as two other estates at some distance from his country seat, one of which, in the Highlands, is the seat of his clan. He owns a house in Shropshire and the aforementioned town house here. And,” he added punctiliously, “there was mention of a small island off the coast of Italy.”
“That is so romantic,” Layla exclaimed. “Please say that you will invite me to your island, Edie.” In the wake of the vicious little exchange earlier, she couldn’t match her husband’s composure. Her voice shook a bit.