“You are so calm,” he said, slipping his arms around her waist. “So serene in the face of provocation. Is this the result of having so many older siblings? Sycamore takes a different approach to being the youngest.”
“I am not calm. Inside, I am a pathetic mess, but pride prevents me from collapsing into a fit of the vapors.” Usually. With Ash’s arms around her, Della was tempted to say more. Sometimes, I can hardly breathe. I have been known to faint from sheer terror when nothing terrifying is about. I am not entirely sane.
William Chastain had used the words hysterical and daft, and he hadn’t been wrong.
“You,” Ash said, kissing her shoulder, “are the steadiest person I know, Della Dorning. If your abundant womanly charms, quick wit, and unstoppable determination didn’t steal my heart, your sheer good sense would. I’ll give you first crack at the privacy screen, while I warm the sheets.”
He patted her bum affectionately, and some of the evening’s misery fell away. At long, long last, Della—she was Della Dorning now—was to be intimate with her beloved, and what did a serious bout of nerves matter in the face of that great joy?
She moved behind the privacy screen and finished undressing. “I will meet William’s bride,” she said when she’d put the toothpowder to good use. “I’m not looking forward to that.”
“And Mrs. Chastain is probably dreading the sight of you,” Ash said. “But being ladies, and sensible, you will doubtless once again disappoint the gossips. We will be the dullest couple ever to partner each other at piquet.”
“I’ll avoid the tables if you don’t mind,” Della said, emerging from the privacy screen as she belted her night-robe. “Chastain is likely to spend most evenings at cards, and he is not to be trusted.”
Ash was in a dressing gown as well, a purple silk banyan that picked up the color of his eyes. “I will happily pass on the cards as well, then. Chastain doesn’t cheat that I’ve seen. He’s at the Coventry often enough that we’d notice if he mishandled the cards.”
A cheat was very bad for business. A gaming hell was technically an illegal establishment to begin with, and a crooked gaming hell was a doomed business. The Coventry Club was a supper club, to appearances. The authorities either knew it to have too many discreet exits to be productively raided, or they feared to find too many of Society’s most powerful families ranged around the tables. King George happened by on occasion, as did his numerous brothers and their mistresses.
“Maybe Chastain doesn’t cheat,” Della said, taking the seat at the vanity, “but he doesn’t play well either. It has been my misfortune to partner him, and my observation is, he makes the impulsive play that a moment’s reflection would reveal to be the inferior choice.”
Ash came to stand behind her. “Allow me.” He withdrew her pins one by one, then undid her braid, putting the ribbon into the pocket of his night-robe. He brushed out Della’s hair more patiently than any lady’s maid ever had and took his time braiding it up again.
His touch was soothing and light, and by the time he’d tied another ribbon around the end of Della’s braid, she was pleasantly drowsy. He dipped a hand into her night-robe to cup her breast, and the lassitude acquired an edge of desire.
“I like that,” Della said, leaning back against his thigh.
“Mrs. Dorning.” Ash bent low to whisper in her ear. “You appear to have misplaced your nightgown.”
His hand on her bare breast was warm. His fingers brushing across her nipple created heat in the pit of Della’s belly.
“I am about to misplace my dressing gown too,” she said, “and I live in hope that you will do likewise.”
He added a second hand so both breasts were gently palmed and stroked, while against Della’s back, Ash’s cock provided evidence of burgeoning arousal.
“I’ll bank the fire,” he said, withdrawing his hands. “You douse the candles.”
Della would rather have feasted her gaze on her husband’s candlelit nudity, but that would give him an opportunity to feast his gaze on her unclad form. Now that the moment was upon her, she was simply not that bold. She blew out the candles, draped her dressing gown over the foot of the bed, and climbed under the covers.
Ash stood for a moment by the hearth, his back to her. What was he thinking, and were his thoughts happy?