Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 86167 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 431(@200wpm)___ 345(@250wpm)___ 287(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86167 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 431(@200wpm)___ 345(@250wpm)___ 287(@300wpm)
The ornate bed, and this spacious chamber, had been prepared days ago for her and Lord Fortenbury, but now she awaited August, her friend. The whole idea of marriage had been turned on its head, although the chamber looked the same.
“Aren’t you glad it was Lord Augustine at the end of things?” asked Hazel, propping herself on a pillow. “Stupid old Fortenbury can run off a cliff. I think August will make a better husband. He’ll be caring and fun.”
“Yes. I’m certain of it,” said Elizabeth, turning so her lady’s maid could undo her gown’s ribbons and buttons.
“He looked very handsome all day, and you were a beautiful bride.”
“Thank you.” She smiled at her sister as several other maids appeared to remove and pack away her priceless wedding attire. “You know, I forgot his name was Julian until today, when the parson said it. Julian Method Randolph. We’ve called him August as long as I can remember.”
“He’s been Lord Augustine since he was born. Now you are Elizabeth Morgaine Randolph…the new Countess of Augustine!” Hazel exclaimed, as if just now realizing it.
Well, everything had happened rather suddenly.
Rosalind studied her, ever sensitive to her moods. “You are happy, aren’t you?”
Elizabeth’s “of course” was muffled as her lady’s maid drew a snow-white, embroidered shift over her head. A velvet robe followed, with matching embroidery and a soft, wide belt. It became apparent the wedding-night ensemble did not include any pantalettes. She dismissed the bustling servants, who seemed eager to linger, and re-tied the belt a bit tighter.
Rosalind climbed from the bed, took her hand, and led her past the fireplace to a low dressing table with an age-clouded, gilt-edged mirror. “Let me do your hair.”
“Why? There is nothing to do.” She’d worn it down for the wedding, wishing to feel as natural as possible after she’d been fancied up for Fortenbury the first time around.
“There is always something to do,” said Rosalind.
She made her sit on the tufted bench and gathered her long black locks to the back, smoothing and arranging them into a loose braid. Elizabeth had always wished for honey-gold hair like Rosalind’s or Hazel’s, but now, she rather liked the dramatic effect of her dark hair against her white wedding robe. Her friend separated a piece here and there, letting it lie at her temples to frame her face, and drew the messy braid over her shoulder.
“Rosalind, what is this styling?” said Elizabeth. “I look as if I’ve just rolled out of bed.”
“That’s the idea,” said Hazel, “except that you’ll be rolling into bed with your husband.”
Elizabeth turned from the mirror. “Already? Tonight?”
“They’ve prepared this chamber just for that purpose, so I would assume…”
“I’ve never slept with a man before now.”
Rosalind giggled. “I should hope not.” A succession of quick emotions flitted across her face. “It’s nothing to get in a tangle about, you know. Husbands can be very…surprising when you’re alone together with them, but in a good way. They kiss you and hold you, and make you feel very…content.”
“That sounds nice.”
“It is nice,” said Hazel. “It’s wonderful.”
Rosalind continued to play with her hair, arranging wisps of ebony this way and that. Elizabeth thought about August coming to this room, so they might go to bed together…
How would he look? What would he wear? She’d seen him in his nightclothes once before, not that she could tell her companions about that experience.
“Will he leave his clothes on when he sleeps?” she asked.
Rosalind gave her a funny look. “I don’t think so.”
A soft knock, and her mama entered, still dressed in her formal attire. She came to Elizabeth and fussed over her velvet robe and haphazardly styled hair, smoothing out the pieces Rosalind had so carefully disarranged.
“Look at you,” she said. “An exquisite young woman on her wedding night. You know what is supposed to happen, yes? Although it will be up to August, if he wishes to…” Her mama did not seem to know where to look. “Well… It was a quick wedding, so things may not proceed as normal.”
Normal? Elizabeth watched her mama think…worry…bite her lip. “I suppose you can leave everything up to him,” she said after a moment. “You must trust in your husband, darling. I’m sure he is…is one to be trusted.”
Elizabeth nodded, wondering for the twentieth time if her understanding of wedding nights was sufficient, or sorely lacking. “I do trust him.”
“Good. If you trust him, if you have warm feelings for him, we’ll call that serendipitous. You’ve always done so well at reading people.”
“August is not a stranger,” Hazel reminded her mama.
“Of course not. All will be well. There’s absolutely nothing to worry about. Oh, don’t listen to me.” She combed fingers through Elizabeth’s hair, tousling it again. “Well, do listen to me. You must follow Lord August’s guidance as well as you can, and give your heart to him, no matter how frightening husbands seem at the outset.”