Adrian must have noticed her reticence, for he pulled back from the kiss and peered at her with a frown of concern. Clarissa forced a smile in an effort to try to reassure him; then everyone seemed to move at once. There were scrolls to sign and congratulations
given, and then she found herself bundled into a carriage and heading to her home. Her father's home, she corrected herself. It was no longer her home. From now on, her home was with Adrian.
"Shall we go?"
Clarissa glanced up sharply from the drink she'd been clenching. She knew her eyes were wide with alarm. This was the moment she'd been dreading since arriving at her father's for the wedding celebration.
Biting her lip, Clarissa turned to glance around the crowded room. Surprisingly enough, while she'd been shunned by nearly everyone since her arrival in London, the wedding party had turned out to be a large one. There were, of course, Lady Mowbray and Adrian's cousins, Mary and Reginald, as well as her own father and stepmother, but then there were also Lord and Lady Havard, Lord and Lady Achard, Lord Prudhomme and his mother, and several people whose voices she recognized but whom she wouldn't know on the street if she could see them, because she'd never glimpsed them close enough to make them out. Aware that she had yet to answer Adrian's question, Clarissa swallowed, tried for a cheerful smile ... and failed miserably. Her voice was a mere squeak when she asked, "So soon?"
She thought she saw Adrian's eyebrows rise, but his
voice was quiet as he said, " 'Tis quite late, Clarissa.
Searing midnight."
She knew that wasn't late for a ball, but this wasn't a
simple ball. It was their wedding party. Still, she tried
desperately: 'Yes, but everyone is still here. Should we
not stay until the last guest leaves? After all, the party is
for us."
"Clarissa," Adrian said patiently. "It is tradition that the bride and groom leave first. Everyone is waiting for us to go."
"Oh, I see." Unable to think of any way to further delay the departure, Clarissa reluctandy put her drink down. "I should collect my things."
"The servants took them during the ceremony," he said gently.
"Oh... Well, Joan--"
"Joan is there too," Adrian said. "Come, we should say good-bye."
"Oh." Sighing, Clarissa allowed him to lead her first to her father and Lydia, then to Lady Mowbray. It all seemed to be moving terribly fast. The next thing Clarissa knew, she was bundled into the carriage. She sat tense and anxious in the corner, her mind consumed with what was to come.
Adrian was just as quiet in the opposite corner, but she could feel his eyes on her. Clarissa knew her behavior was disturbing him, and she racked her mind for something to say to ease the tension. Anything. But her mind was filled with the image of the truncheon smashing into the pie, and the red juice spilling out.
Adrian's servants--hers now too, she realized in some deep part of her mind--were all lined up at the door when they arrived home. Everyone was smiling and nodding in greeting, and Adrian officially introduced her to each member of the staff. Clarissa listened to all the names, but forgot every one the minute he steered her to the stairs.
As he started walking her up, she felt as if she were being led to the gallows. Every nerve in her body was screaming with fear and tension, and she tried to sort
out what would happen. She almost moaned when Adrian opened a door revealing a bedchamber.
When she hesitated in the doorway, he pushed her gently inside. The door closed softly behind her, and Clarissa turned to stare at it wide-eyed. Her husband hadn't entered with her. She felt her shoulders sag with relief. There was to be a brief reprieve.
"There you are!"
Clarissa stiffened at the sound of Joan's cheerful greeting, and she whirled to see the blurred image of her maid busding forward, all cheer and energy. Clarissa wanted to ask what she was smiling about, but restrained herself.
"Was the wedding lovely? How was the party that followed? Did you dance? Was the food delicious? Cook and the staff worked ever so hard to make everything just right." Joan rattled on as she began to tug at Clarissa's clothing.
Clarissa must have answered, but she couldn't have said later what those answers were. Her head was awhirl as the maid worked, and her panic deepened as each item of clothing was stripped away to leave her more and more vulnerable.
Too soon, she was stripped and bathed, and she found herself in a lacy nightgown and tucked into bed.
"There we are. You look lovely," Joan assured her, as if she thought Clarissa would care. The maid then wished her good night and left the room.
Clarissa remained frozen where she'd been placed, in the center of the bed, her gaze moving dully around the dark shadows all around. She could not see much beyond the candle on die bedside. After some hesitation, she reached for the small bag she'd removed as
Joan had undressed her. The maid had set it on the bedside table, and, reaching inside, Clarissa found her spectacles and perched them on her nose. She peered around at what was now her bedroom.
She had seen it the day before, when Adrian had given her the tour of the house, but then it had been daytime. It had seemed very pretty at the time, what with its red-and-gold color scheme. It looked much different in the glow of candlelight. Dark and gloomy, was her opinion--the red that had seemed so gay in daylight now appeared to her the color of thick blood.
Sighing, she let her gaze return to the bed in which she sat. It was huge, much bigger than her bed at home. At her father's home, she corrected herself again. She was a married woman now, with her own home and staff and husband. The last thought made her grimace, and Clarissa removed her spectacles and tucked them back in her bag to keep them hidden. She then lay back on the bed, contemplating the possibility that if she pretended to be asleep, Adrian might leave off the consummation until tomorrow.
But that seemed the coward's way out, and Clarissa feared that if she did that, it would just leave her to worry and be anxious over it all day tomorrow until the task was finally done. If there was one thing she had learned in her short life, it was that it was always best to get unpleasant tasks over with quickly and get them out of the way. Besides, it would be good to know what she would have to face each night of her life from now on--if she would have to face it each night. How often did husbands wish to consummate? If there was no pain for them and they enjoyed only the pleasure of what she'd experienced the other night, Clarissa feared Adrian might wish to consummate often.
She frowned at the idea: his truncheon in her pie every night for the rest of her life . . . ?
It couldn't be like that, Clarissa decided suddenly. Lady Havard and Lady Achard wouldn't have been so eager to have affairs with Lord Prudhomme if it were like that every time. Perhaps it was only the truncheon part that hurt. She already knew that there were things a man and a woman did together that could be quite pleasurable. So it seemed reasonable that only the end part, the actual key-in-the-lock part, hurt.
Clarissa made a face. It seemed a shame to end such pleasure with such unpleasantness, and she found it hard to believe the pleasure made the pain all worthwhile. Still, Lady Havard and Lady Achard had seemed eager to indulge. Come to think of it, she realized, there had been no sign of anxiety about the pain to come in Lady Havard's moans and sighs that night. Of se, Clarissa now understood what Prudhomme had been doing under the lady's skirts and why she'd been sighing and moaning. ...
Clarissa blinked as it occurred to her to wonder if she herself had made the same sounds when Adrian was doing those things to her. She didn't recall mak-ing noise, but then, between the fire and the sensa-Adrian had been causing in her, she'd been a little distracted. She would have to pay more attention the next time, Clarissa decided--then grimaced at the idea of a next time. It would not end nearly so pleasantly. Just thinking of all this made Clarissa glance impatiently toward the dark section of wall where she recalled seeing the door that led to Adrian's adjo
ining roo m. It was late and had been a long, stressful, and tiring day Clarissa wanted to sleep. Where was her
husband? Could he not show a little consideration and get the deed done quickly so that she could rest?
Really, it did now seem to her a good idea to get it over with as swifdy as possible. She shifted impatiendy in bed, then pushed her linens and blankets aside and got to her feet.
Picking up the bedside candle, Clarissa moved carefully toward the wall where she thought the door was, wishing she could put on her spectacles to find it. Life would be so much easier if she did not have to wait on wearing the things. She certainly hoped her husband came to have a tendre for her quickly, so that she might wear them again. Really, if he realized how much she was willing to suffer for him even in going through with the truncheon-and-pie-ordeal, he should half love her already. Clarissa had no idea how other women put up with it, but she already knew it would not be the joyful part of her marriage.
Blowing a wisp of long hair out of her face, she stretched out a hand to prevent herself from walking into the wall, relieved when she felt a solid surface beneath her fingers. She then moved sideways along the wall until she came to yhe door. Clarissa paused, allowing herself to take a deep breath and build some courage. This was for the best, to get the nasty deed done, she assured herself. Surely it couldn't take too long? A quick unpleasantness and then she could relax and sleep. Forcing a bright smile onto her face, she found the door handle and turned it.
Adrian rolled onto his side in bed and released a pitiful sigh. Once his manservant, Keighley, had helped him undress and bathe, he'd sent the man away and sat, trying to decide what to do. His instinct had been
to go direcdy to Clarissa and consummate the marriage ... and what a pleasant thought that was.
Unfortunately, there appeared to be something wrong with Clarissa. She had seemed perfectly fine and happy about the wedding yesterday, but today, from the moment she had entered the church he'd been aware that something was wrong. She'd been distracted and anxious throughout the ceremony, then quiet and tense through the celebrations, always shifting a half step away when he moved to her side. It was as if she could not bear to be near him. And then, she hadn't been eager to leave and come to her new home.
Adrian wasn't sure what the problem was, and was afraid to ask. He worried that she had somehow seen his face and now loathed being near him. It seemed just like something Lydia would do, borrowing someone's spectacles for Clarissa to wear so she could peer out the window to see exacdy whom she was marrying. If that was the case, the happiness he'd been experiencing, that he had envisioned continuing on in the future, would be lost forever.
Over the last few weeks, Adrian's mind had been constantly weaving dreams and fantasies of a happy home life. A home full of love and laughter, with the cries and giggles of children, Clarissa loving him, her smile greeting him in the morning, her presence to share the long days and nights ...
But now it seemed like all that was slipping away, and the very idea made his heart hurt. Worse, Adrian was afraid to ask her what was wrong. He was also afraid to approach her about the bedding and have her turn from him in revulsion. So, in his cowardice, he'd decided to let her alone tonight. It had been a long day, Adrian had told himself; he would be considerate and let her sleep, then see how she was on the morrow. If it had been just the stress of the wedding and moving to a new home, Clarissa should be more cheerful tomorrow, and perhaps he could approach her then. But if not...
Adrian silently cursed the injury that had stolen his looks and left him an ugly beast. He wished he were handsome for her, wished that when she got spectacles, she would still look on him with love and adoration and attraction. He had always felt ten feet tall around her. Until today.
The sound of the door opening interrupted his bitter reflections, and Adrian glanced over his shoulder with confusion. His eyes widened as he saw the connecting door between his own room and Clarissa's open. Candlelight spilled in.
"Adrian?" Clarissa appeared in the opening, squinting. "Why is it so dark? Are you here, husband?"
Adrian had opened his mouth to say yes, but paused at the word husband. Husband. It was the first time she'd addressed him as such, and his heart squeezed in his chest at the title. Husband. He was her husband.
And she was his wife, Adrian realized, gaping at the thin, lacy gown she wore. It was sheer and sexy as hell, revealing more of her body than it concealed, and more than just his heart was reacting. Her hair had been let down and brushed until it shone. It lay in glossy waves around her lovely face.
"Adrian?"
Clearing his throat, he sat up in bed. "I am here. What are you still doing up? I thought you would be asleep by now."
Much to his amazement, Clarissa looked annoyed.
"It is our wedding night, my lord," she said--as if that explained everything.
Adrian wasn't too sure what it explained, though. It seemed as if she had come in search of him, which he found hard to believe after the way she'd been acting all day.
"I thought you were tired and would wish to sleep uninterrupted tonight," he said uncertainly.
"What?" Clarissa squawked, and there was no mistaking her ire at this news. "You'd make me wait another whole day and evening before we consummate our marriage?"
Adrian blinked. She sounded truly upset. "Well, you were so tense and anxious all day, I thought to show some consideration and--"
"I do not wish consideration, my lord. I wish to get it over with," she announced grimly.
It was nice to know she was so eager, Adrian thought, then frowned as Clarissa started forward, bumping the small table beside the door and sending an unlit candle tumbling to the floor. Muttering under her breath, Clarissa knelt, holding her lit candle out as she felt around in search of the other that she'd knocked off the tabletop.
Adrian hesitated, then shifted the linens and blankets on his bed aside and got to his feet. He was completely and utterly nude, but she was practically blind without her spectacles. Not that it would have bothered him to walk around nude in front of her. While his face was scarred, his body was unmarred and in perfect condition. Still, Adrian would have shown her innocence some respect and not revealed himself so soon if he'd thought she could see properly.
"Here, I shall get it," he said as he crossed the room to join her.
Adrian had held his hand out, intending to help her to her feet, but Clarissa only raised her head to glance at him. At least, he thought that was what she'd intended to do, but her eyes never made it to his face. They reached his groin and froze there, and she suddenly went white.
"Dear God," she breathed. 'Your truncheon is huge."
At least, Adrian thought that was what she said, though he barely heard the murmur and could be mistaken. Certainly if that was what she'd said, it made absolutely no sense.
Any concern or curiosity over her words died an abrupt death when she moved the candle closer as if to get a better look. It was obvious her depth perception was off. Adrian almost got his own piffle burned--and not just with some hot water, as Reginald had--and without the barrier of cloth to protect his body! Catching the candleholder, he took it from her with one hand and urged her to her feet with the other.
"Come, then. If you wish to tend to this tonight, I would be more than happy to accommodate you," Adrian assured her. He walked her to the bed. Had she been able to see, his desire would have been in no doubt. His piffle had become as stiff as a pole at the prospect.
He set the candle on the bedside table as Clarissa climbed into bed, then turned back to find her climbing out the other side. As he stared at her blankly, she stood on the opposite side of the bed, wringing her hands as if they were damp towels she was washing.
"You have to get into the bed if you wish ... Well, I
do not suppose it has to be in the bed," Adrian allowed uncertainly. But truly, despite her claim that she wished to get to it, she did not look eager to do so. Tilting his head, he ey
ed her uncertainly. He finally said, "Clarissa, is there something wrong?"
His wife shook her head mutely and continued to wring her hands, her eyes wide and--in his opinion--alarmed.
Deciding she must be a bit nervous about the bedding, and that he should approach the task carefully and gently, Adrian did not order her back into the bed, but walked slowly around to join her on the opposite side, thinking to kiss away some of her anxiety. But the moment he rounded the bottom corner, she turned and scrambled into the bed again.
Adrian smiled faintly, thinking she was as changeable as the wind. He started to climb onto the bed, only to pause when she continued across and scrambled off the other side.
Straightening slowly, Adrian stared as she turned to face him across the expanse, once more anxiously wringing her hands.
"Clarissa," he said slowly. But that was as far as he got before she blurted, "I do not think I wish you smashing my pie with your truncheon."
Adrian stilled and blinked. There was that truncheon word again and he had no idea what she was talking about. Smashing her pie with his truncheon? That did not even make sense. "I fear I have no idea what you are talking about, wife."
Clarissa gave a little jerk at the last word, then said, "I mean, I do not want you breaking my veil with your key."
Rather than helping him understand, her words simply confused him further. "What?"
"My lock is too small for your truncheon."
"Are you speaking in tongues?" Adrian asked. "Clarissa, I have no idea what--"
"Lydia explained everything."
And Adrian went still, the light suddenly going on in his head. He should have realized earlier. "Lydia," he repeated.
Clarissa nodded fervendy. 'You said to ask her about why this would be uncomfortable. I did not ask, but she explained anyway."
"I see." He sighed. Her odd behavior today suddenly made sense: Lydia had scared the hell out of her, and she'd spent the past ten hours dreading the night ahead. And it was all his own fault, he acknowledged. He had told her to ask Lydia rather than explaining about her maiden's veil himself.
Running one hand wearily through his hair, Adrian said, "And Lydia said that I would smash your pie with my truncheon?"