time and he didn’t want to have to resort to this again.
He put the bottle on the tray and swilled the last of the brandy around the glass, irritated with his procrastination. His father wouldn’t have given it a second thought – then again, he wouldn’t have listened to her protests on the wedding night. But he wasn’t like his father.
“It’s wrong,” he muttered and picked up the bottle to put it in his pocket. But then he remembered Lord Iris asking why she was still virginal. How did he know? Had she admitted it under duress?
Will had never experienced the wrath of the Fae and didn’t want this to be the reason for the first time. He slammed the brandy glass down, uncorked the bottle and dumped its contents into the cup on the right. Then he gulped down some of the milk from the other cup so that at a glance he would know that hers was the fuller of the two.
The milk soured in his belly as he carried the tray up the stairs. With every step, he tried to convince himself it was the best for both of them. Once she realised it wasn’t going to be awful, perhaps relations would be better between them. He’d heard tales of girls reaching their wedding night and having no idea what was supposed to happen with their husband. Perhaps Cathy’s ignorance was fuelling a fear of it. That didn’t seem right though; she seemed more worldly than him sometimes.
Her lady’s maid was leaving as he reached the top of the stairs. Upon seeing him she curtsied and left the door open when he gestured that he was on his way to Cathy. He knocked and went in. She was perched on the edge of the bed, sitting unnaturally stiffly. The pillow next to her was crooked and he wondered what she had stuffed under there so quickly.
She was dressed in a blue silk nightgown and robe that brought out the colour of her eyes. Her hair had been let down and the elaborate pinning for the soirée had left loose curls that rippled down her shoulders. There was a slight flush to her cheeks as she watched him set the tray down on the dressing table.
“I brought you some milk,” he said.
“Oh. Thanks.”
He left it on the tray, not wanting to appear too keen for her to drink it. She was tense and seemed more so when he closed the door. “I heard about the furniture.”
“I told Morgan not to–”
“I overheard the parlour maids talking about it. How did you solve the problem?”
“You don’t honestly want to know, do you? It’s very boring.”
“They didn’t make it sound that way.”
She shrugged. “They just don’t understand it, that’s all. I went into Mundanus, I made a few phone calls, it’s no big deal or anything. When you’re in London and very rich there are very few domestic problems that can’t be solved with money.”
How in the Worlds had she known who to call? It certainly wouldn’t have occurred to his mother to solve the problem in that way. But it wasn’t the time to ask. “I wanted to thank you. It sounds like you handled it all brilliantly.”
“Oh, for God’s sake, it’s not like I saved a man’s life. It was some sofas, tables and chairs. You make it sound like I was some superhero.”
He approached her slowly. “May I sit next to you?”
She nodded after a beat, wary. “Aren’t you tired?”
“No. I need to unwind after those kinds of events.” He sat – not too close – and she pulled her legs up and tucked her knees under her chin, making the silk pool over her toes. When he glanced at them she tucked the fabric underneath her feet. “What was Bartholomew talking to you about?”
“We were discussing the Enlightenment.”
“All that time?”
“It’s interesting. And we talked about the student strikes at the University of Paris when the church tried to stop them learning logic and rational thinking. You know, oppression, control of intellectual pursuits in patriarchal societies, that sort of thing.”
“The Tulipas have been speaking very highly of you in Londinium circles,” he said, letting his pride show.
“I like them,” she said. “I never thought I would ever say that about anyone in Society, but they’re interesting, and they don’t mind if I show that I actually know something more than which colour is fashionable.”
“It’s very different to Aquae Sulis, isn’t it?”
She agreed and scratched her wrist. “I’ll be