The Reluctant Marquess by Maggi Andersen Page A

her in the bed. Her long hair spilled over the pillow, and for a moment, he stood there gazing down at her, before tucking a small foot into place.
    She curled up and gave a murmur of pleasure.
    Robert felt a stab of regret as he drew the cover over her. “Goodnight.”
    He poked at the fire and went to blow out the candles.
    “Why, what’s this?” He picked up a small wooden carving and marveled at how finely wrought it was. What expertise would be required to produce such a thing? She’d shown him this piece of wood in Cornwall, likening it to a horse jumping a log, and now it was a work of some skill.
    “You are an astonishing young woman,” he said softly, casting her a respectful glance where she slept deeply in the big bed.
    More than enough room there for him too, and he was tempted to climb in beside her. Perhaps just to sleep and then later, what came naturally might occur. Half out of his coat, he hesitated, would she mind? He shrugged his coat back on. They’d got off to a bad start. No sense in risking an embarrassing rebuff.
    Coward! He wasn’t sure what held him back. She was his wife after all, dammit!
    He blew out the candles and left the room.
    Hurrying downstairs, he pulled on his gloves and took his hat from a sleepy footman. Not wanting to have his own horses standing around he had given instructions earlier for a hackney, and saw that the carriage stood outside the front door. He would visit Anastasia, but the thought did not provide him with the usual enthusiasm.
    Charity woke to the sun streaming in through the window. She rang for Brigitte, and the young woman hurried in with a tray. “I’ve brought you a sweet roll and a hot drink, my lady.” Placing it on the table beside the bed, she went to open the curtains.
    Stretching, Charity yawned. She picked up the cup and sipped the rich, hot chocolate brew. “What time is it?”
    “Ten of the clock, my lady.”
    “That late?” Charity put down the roll half eaten. She threw back the covers and put on her slippers. “It looks like a lovely day.”
    “It’s early for Londoners, my lady. They go to bed late and sleep very late indeed.”
    “I suppose I shall grow used to it in time.” A wave of contentment warmed her. Last night she had braved the ton and come away relatively unscathed. Robert could not accuse her of disgracing his name. A small shaft of uneasiness remained when she couldn’t remember certain details of it.
    She longed to see him, to make sure. “Has my husband breakfasted?”
    “I believe he has, my lady. He left the house for the stables a little while ago.”
    Charity tried to hide her disappointment. “Did he leave word if he would be in for luncheon?”
    Brigitte helped Charity into her wrap. “I do not know, my lady. I could ask Hove.”
    “Don’t bother. I believe I shall go to Hyde Park. I’ll wear my yellow walking dress, and the straw hat with the yellow and white striped ribbons and the daisies.”
    “And primrose leather gloves, my lady?”
    “No, the lilac I think.” Charity looked down at her shift. “I was so fatigued last night I must have dismissed you.” The niggling worry remained, had she drank too much champagne?
    Brigitte held a hand to her mouth. She giggled. “You were so sleepy, his lordship dismissed me.”
    Charity’s eyes grew wide. “Oh, of course he did, I’d forgotten.” Had he undressed her? She vaguely remembered him covering her before she fell asleep again. She gazed at the thin lawn. He must have seen much of her. Perhaps, all of her.
    She quivered at the thought. Had he approved of what he saw?
    He didn’t remain or try to wake her, so perhaps he hadn’t. She sighed. “He must have put you to bed before he left for another engagement,” Brigitte said shaking out the folds in the yellow gown.
    Charity swung around to face her. The maid’s face was impassive. Servants knew far too much of what went on. They would know that she and Robert had not slept together. “I