He raised himself on one elbow and blew out the candle beside his bed. He lay back, wondering how long it would be before she would admit to her love for him. At least now she appeared to be more reasonable, and he felt confident that being at his side continually, she would learn to trust him. He planned to begin by explaining his high-handed treatment of her. He would become her friend again. He would speak openly to her of lovemaking, for they were, after all, now man and wife. He had acted precipitately this evening. He had to remember that she was young, innocent, and quite vulnerable, despite her independence, her bravado.
Before dropping off to sleep, he decided to quit Paris on the morrow and remove immediately to Switzerland, to the villa he’d hired in the mountains near Geneva. They would be alone, save for two servants. There they would have time to come to an understanding.
He awoke the following morning light of heart and full of confidence. He patiently bore with a valet provided by the hotel, having given Timmens a congé until his return to England. His coat, at least, was properly pressed. He was impatient to see his bride, and so contented himself with the first result achieved on his cravat. A hotel lackey arrived just as he finished dressing, bearing the hearty English breakfast he’d ordered, hoping to please his new wife.
With a light step and a gleam of anticipation in his eyes, he tapped on the adjoining door. Receiving no immediate answer, he opened the door and stepped into the room.
She was seated at the dressing table, engrossed in the coiffure the maid had achieved. She didn’t turn immediately, but rather patted her hair here and there, straightened the collar of her gown, all in all making a fine show of ignoring his presence.
He approached her and stood behind her chair so that she could see his reflection in the mirror.
“Good morning.”
She turned slowly in her chair, gazed at him with great indifference, and said, “Good morning to you, sir. I trust you slept well.”
She silently congratulated herself, for even to her own critical ears she had spoken with a marked lack of concern, as if his presence were a mundane occurrence, not at all above the commonplace. She held his gaze and noticed with satisfaction that his brows arched in fleeting surprise. Oh, yes, he’d expected her to behave quite diferently, perhaps with docility, perhaps with fear, but certainly not with sublime indifference.
After a moment he said, even as he brushed a fleck of nothing in particular from his sleeve, “Yes, I slept quite well. I would have preferred to have you in my arms all night, but my dreams were passing good. And you, sweetheart? Did you miss me during the night?”
Kate patted her hair again, quite unnecessarily. “My dreams passed as well as yours, no doubt. Now, give me but a moment longer, sir, and I shall join you for breakfast. It does seem to be a very lovely day, does it not? That is very fine, Anne, you have performed wonders with my hair.”
She rose and shook out her skirts, all the while watching him carefully. She was rewarded with a frown on his brow, for instead of wearing one of the elegant gowns he had bought for her, she had insisted on donning her own gown. It was sadly in need of pressing, and she delighted in each wrinkle.
Julien turned abruptly to the maid. “You may go now. I think you’ve done quite enough for her ladyship.”
He didn’t turn back to Kate until he had carefully schooled his features and gotten control of himself. She had wanted to anger him, and he had most willingly obliged her. Gentle, reasonable treatment from a loving husband was not, at least for this morning, what his dear wife would tolerate. Would she always surprise him? He hoped so, he surely did. However, this morning, he would have preferred a kiss, perhaps even a word of endearment.
He offered her his arm, saying, “How very charming you are this morning, my love. Marriage obviously agrees with you. Come, your breakfast will get cold. As you said, it’s a lovely day. I know you and your enthusiasm for all things outdoors. Surely you don’t want to waste it.”
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