She sat up in bed, gingerly shifting on her hindquarters, then lay back down again. How could she still feel so sore the morning after? She did not want to experience husbandly discipline again. She resolved to walk a narrow line. She would be so honest, obedient, and ladylike he’d never have another opportunity to fault her. Surely, she could manage it.
She stretched and rose and performed her morning ablutions in her bathing room. The high windows admitted morning light, so the room felt warmer in the winter’s chill. Screwing up her courage, she turned her backside to the mirror and looked over her shoulder to survey the damage. There were two neat sets of bruises upon her buttocks, right in the center where his hand had assailed her.
She pulled on a fresh chemise but did not have the energy to struggle into her stays properly without Matilda’s help, so she rang the bell. The maid appeared, curtsying with uncharacteristic shyness. She’d probably heard gossip about what had occurred last night. How many servants had overheard her crying and those loud, rhythmic smacks?
Jane’s face flushed with embarrassment as her maid helped her select an outfit and dress for the day. The maid insisted on a new gown, a brightly embroidered floral ensemble, then sat her down for an intricate hairstyle, curling her hair atop her head and smoothing every strand.
“We must have you looking your best,” she said, as Jane watched her deft hands in the mirror.
In the subtle language of mistress and servant, Jane understood her maid was in sympathy with her, and meant to show Lord Townsend that his new lady was no one to be trifled with. It soothed Jane’s feelings a bit. As alone as she felt this morning in Lord Townsend’s great house, she had one ally in Matilda, and would hopefully find more as she explored this place where her husband ruled.
She would start at the stables because she had to attend to her pets.
She put on a warm wool spencer and matching bonnet to insulate her from the crisp winter weather, and somehow managed to find her way to the front door. The house looked different in the daytime, a bit more welcoming and less imposing.
Once outside, it was a short walk to the stables. A few horses grazed in adjacent paddocks, beautiful beasts who appeared to receive excellent grooming and care, which reassured her. A house that took care of its animals was a healthy, good place to live.
She peeked in at the stable door then stepped inside, pausing to allow her eyes to accustom to the dimmer interior. It was pleasantly warm and smelled of straw and horses. She proceeded to the area where her pets’ enclosures stood, trying not to get in anyone’s way. As she leaned down to check on them her eyes were drawn to a tall figure just at her periphery. She knew those legs, those arms, that broad chest by now. She turned and met her husband’s gaze.
He was in riding clothes, leading his stallion toward its stall. The first thing her father always did when he came to the country was ride about the property and environs, making sure everything was well. Lord Townsend must have done the same. He wore a smartly tailored wool jacket but no overcoat. His cheeks were red from the winter air.
“Aren’t you cold, my lord?”
Her concern overcame her shyness as he walked toward her. He shook his head.
“Not cold. It was warm when the sun broke through the clouds, and riding Gallant takes a strong arm.”
She’d felt that strong arm last night. No doubt her cheeks were flushing red as his, but not from cold. Some regard passed between them, the shared memory of last evening along with the accompanying tension. He did not ask if she’d slept well.
“I suppose you must show me these pets of yours,” he said instead, gesturing toward their enclosures. “If they’re going to live here, I’d like to know about them.”
He did not say this in an unfriendly way, and she felt heartened by his interest. Perhaps he was only asking to ease some of the tension between them, but she was always happy to talk about her animals.
“Well, my lord—”
“Townsend,” he said. “Or Edward, please.”
“All right. Edward.” It seemed strange to call him by his Christian name, as little as she knew him, but she would try her best since she ached for closeness between them. She did not want a cold, sterile marriage. That was not in her nature, so she smiled past her nerves and led him over to her pets.
She opened the first enclosure, a spacious wire cage for her mud-brown rabbit. “This is sweet little Bouncer. One of my father’s staghounds caught him and brought him to me, thinking him a fun toy. I saw his back leg was damaged, leaving him vulnerable to all sorts of predators, and I wept over him so much my father said I might keep him, even though cook wanted to have him for dinner.” She frowned. “She said she would put him out of his misery, but I don’t think he’s been miserable with my help, and he was too little to eat then, at any rate. He loves to be snuggled and petted. He practically preens.”