AURELIA MARLOWE
No one had ever explained what a bride was supposed to do when her husband disappeared downstairs to work on their wedding night.
Ronan had left me to settle in hours ago, and I still had no idea whether he expected to see me again before morning or whether I was meant to simply go to bed and pretend this was perfectly normal.
I was thinking about that as I stepped out of the bath and reached for the towel Maisie had left on the stool nearby. The bathroom had taken a little longer to learn than mine at Marlowe House, but she'd shown me where everything was before leaving me alone—the bath, basin, loo and door—until I could move around without needing her.
A new house didn't suddenly mean I had forgotten how to wash my own hair.
Once I was dry and wrapped in a soft robe, I called for Maisie, and she appeared quickly enough that she couldn't have gone far.
“Yes, Mrs Blackwell?”
The name still felt as though it belonged to someone else.
“My hair is going to become a disaster if I leave it like this.”
“Would you like me to dry it?”
“Please.”
I followed her voice into the bedroom and found the chair in front of the dressing table. Maisie worked behind me for the next few minutes, warm air moving through my hair until she switched off the dryer and asked if I wanted her to brush it as well.
I usually preferred doing things myself, but after everything that day, letting someone else fuss over me for a little while sounded rather lovely.
“All right.”
The brush moved gently through the ends of my hair before working higher.
“You have lovely hair,” Maisie said.
“Thank you.”
“And you're very beautiful.”
I smiled because I'd heard that often enough to have built a picture of myself from everyone else's descriptions. Dark-blonde hair, pale skin, green eyes and a face Seraphina once called unfairly pretty before Ivy added that it was especially unfair because I couldn't even appreciate it myself.
“How long have you worked for Ronan?” I asked.
“Mr Blackwell? About six weeks.”
I sighed. “That's disappointing.”
“Why?”
“I was hoping you'd been here long enough to tell me what he's actually like.”
Maisie hesitated long enough for me to notice.
“I promise I'm not asking you to reveal state secrets.”
“No, ma'am.”
“Aurelia,” I corrected.
“I don't think Mr Blackwell would approve of that.”
“Then only call me Aurelia when he isn't listening.”
Her amusement came through clearly as she continued brushing my hair. “He's quiet. He doesn't really chat with any of us unless he needs something.”
“Cold?”
“A bit,” she admitted. “But he's fair. Everyone here is paid properly, and if anyone works late, he makes sure they're paid for that too. He doesn't shout either.”
“How do you tell when he's angry?”
Maisie hummed under her breath. “You can tell.”
Ronan gave so little away in his voice that I couldn't imagine what changed enough for everyone else to notice.
She finished brushing my hair and set the brush down, and I was about to get up when I remembered the wedding present Ivy had slipped into my luggage that morning.
“There should be a black bag somewhere in my suitcase,” I said. “Can you bring it to me?”
“Of course.”
Maisie crossed the room, and after a little searching, I heard the zip of my suitcase followed by the rustle of something being lifted out.
“Found it.”
I held out my hand. “Ivy said it was a wedding present, which means I probably shouldn't trust it.”
“Would you like me to open it?”
“Please. I'd rather know what she's done before I put my hands in there.”
The bag rustled as Maisie opened it, and the silence that followed wasn't a good sign.
“What is it?”
“Lingerie.”
Heat climbed into my face. Of course Ivy had bought me lingerie for my wedding night.
“I'm going to murder her.”
“It is very pretty.”
“That usually means there's barely enough fabric to qualify as clothing. Give it here.”
Soft lace landed across my palm, and I explored what felt like cups before my fingers caught on thin straps going in different directions.
“Why are there so many straps?”
“They're garters.”
Maisie handed me another piece, and once I worked out what I was holding, I frowned.
“Those are the knickers?” I asked, turning the scrap of lace between my fingers.
“Yes,” Maisie said, sounding far too amused.
“They seem to be missing most of the knicker.”
Maisie made a small sound that was suspiciously close to a laugh, and I pointed in her direction. “Don’t.”
“I'm sorry.”
“You're not.”
“No,” she admitted. “And there are stockings as well.”
I let the lace fall back into my lap and shook my head. There was no mystery about what Ivy had intended when she bought lingerie as a wedding gift. It had been much easier to joke about sleeping with Ronan before he was actually my husband.
I wasn’t ignorant about sex. Years of friendship with Ivy had seen to that. She’d told me far more than I had ever asked to know about terrible oral sex, ridiculous positions and men who finished before she’d even managed to remove both shoes.
Actually sleeping with someone was different. I'd never had a serious boyfriend, never sneaked anyone past Father and never come close enough with a man for sex to become anything more than a possibility. Somehow, I had reached twenty-seven without ever crossing that line.
I ran my fingers over one of the garter straps. “How revealing is it?”
Maisie paused before answering.
“That bad?”
“The top is mostly lace,” she said carefully, “and the knickers are quite small. But it does look beautiful.”
I sat with that for a moment before holding the lingerie towards Maisie.
“Help me put it on.”
“Are you sure?”
“Absolutely not, but Ivy will ask tomorrow whether I tried it, and unfortunately I’m a terrible liar.”
Maisie helped me to my feet, and getting into the bloody thing took enough effort to make me question why anyone voluntarily wore lingerie. I could dress myself perfectly well, but whoever had designed this had apparently valued straps over common sense, and Maisie had to guide my hands more than once before everything finally sat where it was supposed to.
When she finished fastening the stockings, I straightened and immediately became aware of cool air touching far too much skin.
“Oh,” Maisie murmured.
“What?”
“You look stunning.”
I ducked my head as I ran my palms carefully down my sides, finding lace and bare skin. “Are you saying that because I technically employ you?”
“No,” she replied without hesitation.
I reached for my robe and wrapped it around myself, tying the belt firmly at my waist. “There. Much more civilised.”
A meow came from near the bed before I heard Bubbles land on the floor.
“Bubbles, don’t even think about climbing into my suitcase.”
His bell jingled away from me instead. A second later, I heard a paw scrape against wood before the bedroom door creaked wider and his paws pattered into the corridor.
“Bubbles!”
Maisie hurried after him while I grabbed my cane and followed.
“He’s heading towards Mr Blackwell’s room,” she called.
“Of course he is. Can you catch him?”
“I’m trying.”
His bell kept jingling ahead of us before Maisie groaned.
“What happened?”
“He slipped into Mr Blackwell’s bedroom.”
“Is Ronan there?”
“No. He’s still downstairs.”
“Then we get Bubbles before he destroys anything.”
I followed Maisie into the room, using my cane to map the unfamiliar space while listening for the faint jingle of Bubbles’s collar.
“There you are,” I muttered when he meowed near the dresser.
I had barely reached him when something struck the floor.
“What did he knock over?”
Maisie crouched beside me while I searched carefully across the carpet until my fingertips found something rectangular.
“A frame,” I said. “Did it break?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Thank God.”
I stood with it in my hands and ran my fingers carefully around the edges. Smooth glass covered one side, while a small chain was draped over one corner, ending in a round piece of metal. There was some kind of raised design on it, but I couldn’t tell what it was.
“Do you know what this is?”
Maisie never got the chance to answer because Bubbles suddenly shot past my legs, one claw catching the belt of my robe hard enough to loosen the knot.
“Bubbles!”
Maisie hurried after him. “I’ll get him.”
I caught the robe before it could fall completely open and tried to retie it with one hand while still holding the frame, only for heavy footsteps to enter the room behind me.
I knew them before Ronan spoke.
“What are you doing in here?”
My stomach dropped. “Bubbles ran in. He knocked something over, and I was trying to put it back.”
His footsteps crossed the room quickly. “Give it to me.”
“I was just—”
“Aurelia.”
I held it towards his voice, and he took it from my hands before setting it somewhere nearby. Only then did I realise how far my robe had slipped open while I was struggling with the frame, and I quickly pulled the fabric together and retied the belt.
“Bubbles snagged it when he ran past,” I said.
“I’m sure he did.”
The doubt in his voice got under my skin. “What is that supposed to mean?”
“You were very clear downstairs that you weren’t proposing a love affair.”
Humiliation crawled up my neck as I became painfully aware of the lace still peeking above the neckline of my robe.
“I wasn’t.”
“And yet I come upstairs and find you in my bedroom wearing that.”
“You think I came in here to seduce you?”
“What exactly would you like me to think?”
For a second, I could only stand there listening to him breathe, because he actually believed it. He thought I had dressed myself like this, walked into his bedroom and started touching his things because I was desperate for his attention.
“I told you what happened.”
“And the cat just happened to lead you straight into my bedroom.”
Whatever urge I’d had to keep explaining myself disappeared.
“You asked for me.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“You demanded me as part of your agreement with my father. I did not ask to marry you, I did not ask to live here, and I certainly did not sneak into your bedroom hoping you might find me irresistible.”
My voice shook near the end, which only made me angrier.
“I came after my cat. So if you’re finished accusing me of something I didn’t do, I’d like to go back to my room.”
I turned towards the doorway, but his voice reached me before I could leave.
“You play innocent remarkably well.”
I stopped. “I don’t understand.”
“How convenient.”
I turned towards his voice again. “Why do you speak to me as though I’ve done something to you? We barely know each other.”
“Goodnight, Aurelia.”