Despite encouragement to eat her fill at the breakfast, Eve had only been able to pick at her food. Everything looked delicious, but she had been too anxious about Ben taking her home. She faced the prospect with a mixture of eagerness and trepidation.
She knew more than many young ladies about the goings-on between husbands and wives, because her mother had always been forthcoming when Eve asked questions. Knowledge did not alleviate her nerves, however.
Ben rubbed his thumb along her knuckles as they held hands in the carriage carrying them home after the wedding breakfast. “Why the small line between your brows, Kitten?”
“I am worried about undressing in front of you.”
A short burst of laughter came from him. “I wasn’t expecting such honesty.”
“Why not? We are married now. If I cannot be honest with my husband, I don’t know who I can trust with the truth.”
His tender smile melted her heart. “You have nothing to fret over, dearling. You needn’t have an audience when you undress if you don’t wish it.” He lifted her hand to his lips and lightly kissed her sensitive skin. “But I am certain you are exquisite.”
She wrinkled her nose. “I have freckles. Everywhere.”
He sat up straighter and turned toward her. “Good God, everywhere? I will keep you up all night kissing each and every one.” The wicked twinkle in his blue eyes as he pulled her into his arms made her stomach flutter. “I’d best start now.”
He proceeded to rain kisses all over her cheeks, down her neck, and along her collarbone. She squealed and wiggled to escape his tickling. When he drew back, smiling, she settled in his arms with a contented sigh.
He snuggled her close and kissed her forehead. “You didn’t eat much at breakfast. Perhaps we should plan an early dinner.”
“If you like.” She laid her head on his shoulder, closing her eyes and breathing in his scent. He smelled of cinnamon from the morning rolls and something exotic she didn’t recognize. It was a surprisingly comforting combination.
She listened to the soothing clip-clop of the horses’ hooves as the carriage traveled toward her new home in Marylebone. Ben’s grandfather had acquired a town house near Cavendish Square after he made his riches, and Ben had inherited the property. The house held sentimental value for him, and because it was special to her husband, she would take extra care in managing their home. She would take extra care of him too.
“Ben, was something wrong this morning? You looked very pale all of a sudden.”
His muscles twitched beneath her cheek. “I might have been in the sun longer than I should. I felt queasy for a moment, but it passed.”
She pushed to an upright position to check his complexion once more. “Are you sure you are not ill?”
“I have never felt better, Evie.”
His color had returned during the ceremony, and he appeared hearty and hale now. “You would tell me if you were not well, wouldn’t you?”
“Of course.” He laughed off her concern as he ducked his head to peer out the window. “We are almost home. Would you like to sit beside the window for a better view?”
“No, thank you.” Instead, she leaned across him to ogle the neighbors’ houses. Her maid would have a wonderful time scouting out the neighborhood and keeping abreast with the local gossip. When the carriage stopped in front of a Grecian-style town house, Eve nearly climbed into Ben’s lap for a better look. She had seen the town house in passing, but it was much larger up close.
Ben chuckled. “Come inside before you smudge the glass with your nose.”
She accepted his assistance from the carriage and linked arms with him before they climbed the steps leading to the front door.
The massive door swung open before they reached it, and a broad-shouldered man dressed in livery greeted them.
“Good afternoon, Dobbins. Have Mrs. Fitzhugh assemble the staff for an introduction to Mrs. Hillary.”
“Yes, sir.”
Eve couldn’t help smiling at hearing her new address.
She and Ben passed through a narrow entry hall that opened onto a large circular foyer with several arched doorways leading to different parts of the house. “What would you like to see first?”
“Let’s start there.” She randomly pointed toward a doorway on the right.
“As you wish.” Ben provided a brief tour of the rooms on the ground level—two drawing rooms, his study, the library, and a dining room—before returning to the foyer where a staff of eight had gathered. Ben rested his hand at the small of her back. “Please allow me to introduce my wife, Eve Hillary. I trust you will all make her feel welcome and answer any questions she might have as she assumes management of the household.”
The servants offered tentative smiles and the proper greetings.
“Thank you,” Eve said. “I can see what a splendid job you’ve done maintaining an efficient and lovely home. I do not anticipate many disruptions to your routines, so please, carry on as you have already been doing.”
The servants dispersed with their heads held high, which was exactly as it should be. She didn’t want to barge in, assert her authority, and throw the household into chaos. A slow transition seemed wisest.
Mrs. Fitzhugh remained behind when the others left. “Would you like me to show you to your chambers, ma’am? Your maid and belongings arrived earlier, so everything should be in order.”
Ben clasped Eve’s hand. “Allow me.” He drew her toward the curved staircase. “Thank you, Mrs. Fitzhugh,” he called over his shoulder.
The woman smiled fondly at him. “It is my pleasure, Mr. Hillary.”
Above stairs, Ben led her to a doorway in the middle of the corridor. He paused with his hand on the handle. “You may change anything you do not like. The decor may not be fit for a lady’s tastes.”
Eve pursed her lips. “Are you trying to torture me? Open the door!”
He grinned, stole a quick kiss, and pushed open the door. Eve gasped. Never had she seen anything more beautiful. Rich green and crimson silk fabrics woven together with gold thread hung from the windows and puddled on the floor. An equally decadent coordinating fabric draped the carved bed, and a plush coverlet that Eve wanted to curl up in covered the thick mattress. A hand-painted cabinet held porcelain vases and silver candelabras with new candles.
She moved toward the intricately carved dressing table as if she was in a trance. Colorful bottles had been grouped together on the surface. “What are these?” She pulled the stopper out of one and held it under her nose for a tentative sniff. A woodsy lemon-like scent wafted on the air, and she sighed with pleasure.
Ben came up beside her and reached for a different bottle. “These are essential oils from Egypt. One of man’s earliest forms of medicine, I’ve been told. I don’t know what power they have to heal, but they have a lovely scent. This is origanum.” He held the bottle out for her to sniff. It was a sweet and spicy scent and reminiscent of his cologne.
“I’ve never seen anything like this, Ben. I feel as if I’ve traveled to another world.” She replaced the bottle and wandered to a small wardrobe to see what treasures were hidden inside. Long lengths of colorful cloth hung from the pegs. “Beautiful. Are these draperies too?”
He grinned. “No, this is called a sari. Women in India wear them.”
She snatched the translucent cloth and held it up. “Ladies wear this? How?”
“They do not wear this alone.” He reached for two satin pieces: a short corset-type garment that would come down to just beneath her breasts, and a colorful petticoat. “Once the blouse and petticoat are donned, the women drape the fabric around their waist and over the shoulder. You may use them however you see fit, though.”
“Do you like how the women dress?” she asked as a flood of heat swept through her.
He hesitated, scratching the back of his neck. His blue eyes darkened as he held her gaze. “I do.”
“Hmm.” She didn’t trust her voice not to crack. Replacing the fabric, she shut the wardrobe doors, ending the discussion of saris, and placed a bit of distance between herself and the slightly scandalous attire. “I do not see a thing I would change about my rooms. I will be quite comfortable here.”
His relieved smile caused her heart to hitch. He’d truly been concerned she would not like her chambers, but she could not imagine a more perfect set of rooms.
After testing the fainting couch by lightly bouncing up and down while seated, she smiled up at him. “Where are your chambers?”
“Through the doors. Would you like a tour?”
She hesitated. It was on the tip of her tongue to say it would be inappropriate, before realizing a tour of a gentleman’s private chambers—at least her husband’s—was no longer forbidden. Her stomach tumbled at the thought of what was to come later. “Perhaps we could visit the gardens first?”
His eyebrows lowered over his eyes. “If you are certain you aren’t too tired…”
“Not one bit.”