“Sibyl,” he growled.
She finally gave him an answer, though not enough of one for his liking. “I needed to check something.”
“What?” he asked instantly.
She hesitated.
“Some… thing,” she stalled, drawing out the word for as long as she could.
Slowly he moved into the room and slowly he closed the door.
And also, very slowly, he turned the key which now sat in the lock on a permanent basis.
And then he slowly turned and put the key in his pocket.
“Explain,” he said curtly when he again caught her eye.
“I… can’t,” she whispered.
“And why is that?” He didn’t allow her to answer but kept talking. “Do I have to repeat that I very much do not like it when you disappear?”
She was silent, she felt this was the best course of action until she actually could explain or think of a creditable lie she might be able to impart without getting caught out in it.
She thought, rather hysterically, that the happy, euphoric tone of the evening that followed his vow of love and marriage proposal was sadly brief.
“Explain,” he repeated.
She decided she couldn’t keep her silence (because, obviously, he wasn’t going to let her) and he’d never believe a lie, so she gave in.
“I can’t explain…” she rushed on when he opened his mouth to, what she was sure would be, bark at her, “I have to show you. I was just getting ready for later.”
He was silent but his silence was not hesitant or anxious. It was expectant.
Impatiently expectant.
“Just… hold on,” she said and then she ran to the bathroom and shut the door, praying he wouldn’t follow.
Luckily, he didn’t.
And she loved him a little bit more at that show of trust.
And if she loved him much more, she’d explode with it.
What was in the box was Mags’s present that she brought Sibyl from America. Not any of Sibyl’s favourite treats that she couldn’t get in England, like spiced, black corn chips or grape jelly. But instead, a nightgown so racy that when Sibyl had opened it, Bertie had stood abruptly and left the room on an expletive.
Now Sibyl folded back the pale pink tissue, looked at the contents of the box and wondered if she had the guts to do this. And she wondered also if Colin was right and maybe she was a tad bit prissy (but only a tad).
She heard a soft noise from in the bedroom and she immediately rushed to take off her clothes.
This was because she really didn’t want to keep Colin waiting.
Then she donned the nightie which was made of stretchy, lavender-coloured lace, hugged her body everywhere it touched, hit her just below where her thighs met her bottom in a lovely scalloped hem and had underwire that pushed her br**sts up rather suggestively. It also had a pair of lavender satin string-bikini bottoms.
She stared at herself in the mirror in the bathroom and thought, perhaps, she couldn’t do this. That perhaps, she was a bit of a priss (and maybe more than a tad) and she ran her hands through her hair in anxious frustration.
Then she caught sight of the ring on her finger. She dropped her hands but also dropped her head to gaze in wonder for a moment at the sparkling diamond on her left ring finger and that was when decided she could, most definitely, do this.
She opened the door and entered the bedroom and Colin, who was impatiently snapping the drapes shut on the windows, whirled around when he heard her.