Candice Hern by Once a Gentleman

lighting the candles, he had moved to stand in the doorway.
    “Yes, thank you.”
    Pru’s cheeks flamed when she saw her nightgown had been laid out on the bed. It was the prettiest one she owned, with lovely lace edges and white-on-white embroidery. Had Nick seen it? She could not bear to look at him.
    “Well, um…” He seemed nervous, unsure of what to do next.
    He must be feeling as awkward as she was. Pru wished she could make it easier for him by answering in advance the questions he was no doubt trying to ask. Yes, she would like a few minutes alone. Yes, she would be ready when he returned. Yes, he could join her on the bed. Yes and yes and yes.
    But she would be too mortified to say any such thing, too nervous to do anything more than nod when he asked. But why did he not ask and get it over with? He still stood awkwardly in the doorway, a frown creasing his brow.
    “Well, I will say good night, then.”
    Good night?
    “Mrs. Gibb always sets out breakfast in the back parlor. I, um, wasn’t sure if you preferred tea or coffee.”
    Breakfast? He wouldn’t see her until breakfast? The air in her lungs suddenly felt thin, starving her of breath.
    “Tea. Th-thank you.” She had no idea where those words had come from, how she’d managed to form them with her mouth when she could barely breathe.
    He wasn’t coming to her. He wasn’t going to make love to her.
    “Tea. Right. So, I will, um, see you at breakfast. Good night, Pru.”
    He turned on his heel and left. Pru stood frozen in the middle of the room. She heard him open and close the door to the room next to hers.
    He was not coming back.
    She stood and listened to the sounds of him moving about. He would be able to hear her as well. He would know she hadn’t moved. What a fool he must think her.
    She forced one foot in front of the other and walked to the open door. She closed it, then tried to empty her mind of despair while she undressed. It was difficult without a maid to untie her corset strings in the back. But she could not have borne the presence of a maid, or anyone else, just now. She had to bear this humiliation alone.
    A short time later, she lay in her bed and stared at the door. She couldn’t keep her eyes from it. It was just possible she had misunderstood. He might come after all. He might .
    No. He wasn’t coming back.
    She was a great goose to think Nicholas would walk through that door. He was a gentleman with a powerful sense of honor. It had driven him to marry her, and now kept him from her bed. At least, that was what she wanted to believe.
    She wished he were not quite so honorable. But then, she did not offer much of a temptation to behave dishonorably. Even in her beautiful lace nightgown.
    Was this to be the first of endless nights spent in the dark, staring at that door? Lord, how was she to bear this marriage?
    She turned away, buried her face in the pillow, and wept.
     
    Nick wasn’t surprised to find Pru in the back parlor when he came downstairs the next morning. He’d heard her up and about early, but he deliberately stayed in his own bedchamber until he was certain she was gone. Cowardly, to be sure, but he had not wanted to run into her in the close confines of the upstairs corridor.
    A tilt-top tea table was usually kept flat against a wall in the back parlor, but was opened and set in the middle of the room for meals. Ever since the Crimson Ladies—the colorists for the magazine’s engravings—had taken over the dining room for their use, Nick and his sister had taken most of their meals either here or in the front drawing room.
    Pru sat at the table sipping tea and reading some loose, handwritten pages. She looked up at his entrance, removed her spectacles, and blushed.
    Damn. This whole business was so blasted awkward.
    “Good morning,” he said, and took a seat opposite her.
    She scooted back her chair, and in a sudden rush of words, said, “I have just finished my tea. Ihave much to do today, having