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"The mine can be very time consuming, especially after such a long absence," Lord Ebersole said that evening at dinner.

"Oh my yes," Penny added. "Julian is often absent from dinner. The mining business takes all of his attention."

"I had hoped once he took a wife, he would not spend so much time focused on the mine. I am sure it will be the case, but since he has been away there are likely matters which require his attention."

Laurel appreciated the efforts of her new family members to alleviate the sting of being stood up at dinner by her own husband on her first night at Hazelden House. Her first night as a newlywed.

"Of course. He has spoken of his devotion to the mine," she said, placing her napkin on her lap. "I look forward to hearing about his day once he returns." She hoped her annoyance at being abandoned by her husband did not show in her tone.

Perhaps she ought to have included a clause about meals in the contract she wrote up in the Winchesters’ library.

It was not as though Laurel was unaccustomed to dining alone. In fact, she welcomed the opportunity to share a meal with Lord Ebersole and Lady Penny.

But it did not lessen her hurt over Julian's obvious absence.

However, it was possible that due to his long time away, the mine needed more attention than usual.

"We shall commence our meal and hope he is here before we finish. This will give us an opportunity to get to know you better, my dear," Julian's grandfather said with a smile. Even at his advanced age, he was a charmer.

His suggestion of getting to know more about her did not sit well with Laurel. Was it necessary for her to reveal all about her family? Julian was fully informed. As far as anyone else, she was not so certain.

"I already know she is a marvelous dress designer," Penny said. "I assume you designed the dress you are wearing now. It is a dream."

Laurel blushed under Penny's praise. "Thank you," she said. "I did design this dress and I am glad you like it."

Lord Ebersole scrutinized her. "I do not know a whit about ladies' fashion," he said, "but I do believe that dress is extremely flattering on you, if you do not mind me saying so."

"Thank you, my lord," she said. "I do not mind."

"Please," he said. "We are family now. Call me Grandfather, as Julian and Penny do. I hope you will do me that honor."

Laurel did not wish. Not that she did not find the man likable and it would be nice to have a grandfather, but she also did not intend to get attached to anyone in this household. However, she could not reveal any of those secrets and so she responded. "As you wish, Grandfather."

His face lit up when she used the term.

She felt like a louse for accepting their hospitality and good wishes when she had no expectation of being in this household after Lord Ebersole’s birthday gala.

"Grandfather," Penny said, "Laurel says she will design a dress for me. May I order fabric and hire a seamstress for the task?"

Laurel bit her tongue. Again. Ordering fabric and having a dress properly fitted and made could take longer than Laurel intended to be a member of this family.

Why did the thought make her sad?

"Of course," Grandfather said. "I suggest you place a special rush order so you can wear the new gown at my birthday party."

Much as she did not wish to become further attached to the members of this household, she did find her fingers itching to design a gown for Penny. One which would emphasize her slim waist and in a color to bring out the luscious brown of her hair.

"Mrs. Davenport has samples from all the manufacturers in London," Penny said. "If we visit her tomorrow and pick out the fabric, it should be here in time. We can also be sure to engage her for the sewing. I assume you do not do all the stitching."

"I prefer to leave that to others, though I am not without some skills. I am a stickler for proper fit, but if Mrs. Davenport can obtain the fabric and make the dress to my specifications, I think it will work out perfectly."

"Thank you!" Penny's beaming face fed into Laurel's excitement for the project.

"I think something in a nice shade of lavender would suit you quite well. What do you think?"

Penny smiled. "Oh yes, that would be wonderful. Mrs. Davenport always suggests such dull colors. I know they wash me out, but I am not brave enough to countermand her suggestions. However, I am certain she will cooperate with you, the Countess of Strathmore."

Indeed she was. Where was her count?

Laurel sighed as she warmed to the project. She might as well have something to fill her days. Apparently she would not be spending long hours with her husband.

That night Laurel sat in the drawing room writing in her journal.

She sorely missed Cassie and their conversations, but what was on her mind was nothing she could write in a letter.

Putting her most intimate thoughts into a journal was daring enough, but she had to sort out her thoughts before she went to bed tonight. With her husband.

He is very handsome , she had written and that was, in fact the case. Even his scars and eye patch were becoming less noticeable to her the more time she spent in his company.

We are surprisingly companionable, considering our short acquaintance.

Another true statement, though it only emphasized the loneliness of her first day at Hazelden being left to her own devices in a strange place.

It was hardly the gentlemanly way to behave, and yet it was precisely what had happened.

He runs a copper mine owned by his grandfather which is quite successful under his leadership. She paused and then added: In fact, he is so devoted he left me as soon as he could and has been gone the entire day and into the evening of our first day as a married couple.

Taking a deep breath, she read over the few lines she had penned.

Dare she say more? Dipping her quill in the ink, she continued.

We are to share a bedchamber and his nearness makes me feel things I have never experienced before.

He kissed me and attempted to seduce me.

I was sorely tempted to allow him to continue.

In fact, I craved it at the time, though I managed to dissuade him from that idea by telling him this is simply a business arrangement and we ought not to get any more involved with one another than necessary.

We promised we would not fall in love. Assured ourselves it was impossible.

I missed him today while he was gone. As I made myself familiar with his home, I found mementos which reminded me of him and I wished to ask him about them.

I am afraid that by rebuffing his attempt at seduction, I have spoiled the friendly relationship we had. A partnership in which we would each gain what we wanted most.

There was so much more Laurel wanted to say, was desperate to say to someone, but dared not. She shut the diary, closed the clasp and locked it with a tiny key.

Much as she wished she had a friend in whom to confide in person, Laurel was enjoying being far from London and the newspapers and gossip.

As she strolled from the parlor to Julian's bedchamber, she realized that with the glaring exception of her husband's apparent desire to be far away from her, things were going well for her first day as a married woman.

When she stopped at Julian's bedchamber, she tapped on the door.

Though she had not seen him, that did not mean he had not returned while she was writing in her journal and she did not wish to barge in on him, even if it was also her bedchamber.

Hearing no reply, she turned the knob and slowly entered the room, peeking around the edge of the large wooden door. "Julian?" she whispered.

Taking several steps, she closed the door and surveyed the spacious room and sitting area. No sign of her husband. His dressing room was also empty, though she took a moment to admire the generous space with neatly arranged clothing and a settee.

As she returned to the main area, there was no avoiding the huge bed, freshly made up and heaped with pillows. It overpowered the room. Her marital bed.

The candles on either side of the bed had been lit and the covers had been turned down. She was exceptionally tired and the bed was most inviting.

What was the protocol? Should she wait up for Julian? How on earth was she to share a bed with him?

A deep yawn overtook her and her eyelids grew heavy.

Thus her decision was made. She got herself undressed without the assistance of a maid.

Another benefit of designing her own clothes was her determination to create garments which were easy to put on and take off alone.

Her trunks had been delivered and unpacked during the day.

She found one of the lacy nightgowns she had made for her trousseau when she had expected to marry Lord Onslow.

Not that she had wished to attract his ardor, but she could not resist the urge to make the frilly garments.

A shiver ran through her at the recollection of his treatment of her, both during the encounter in Hyde Park and also on what was to have been their wedding day.

She wondered if she would ever get over her revulsion. She had never wanted to marry him in the first place and his subsequent actions had confirmed her instincts had been correct all along.

Funny, the same instincts had encouraged her to go forward with the pretend marriage to Julian.

Well, the marriage was very much real, their intention to stay married 'til death do them part was pretend.

Of course a divorce was out of the question, but Laurel and Julian would hardly be the first married couple to quietly go their separate ways.

Slipping into the bed, she sunk deep into the mattress, fluffing the bounty of pillows to make a comfortable place to rest her head.

She was in a man's bed. A shiver of excitement ran through her.

Though he had been absent from this space, she could still detect his scent—a mixture of soap and spice.

The room reeked of masculinity and from her vantage point in the bed, she glanced about the room, taking in artwork and assorted mementos which belonged to her husband.

Lounging in the new bed, the one she was to share with her husband, felt strangely titillating.

"The marriage bed is the most important piece of furniture in any home," Lady Katherine said. "It is a sacred space for a husband and wife to share the intimacies which only belong to each other. There is no greater joy than waking up entwined in your husband’s arms."

Waking up in her husband’s arms? Laurel did not even know where her husband was.

Startled from sleep, Laurel sat up against the pillows, covers close to her chest, gazing about the room to determine the source of the noise which had woken her.

"Julian?" she whispered, assuming her husband's return had disturbed her sleep.

But there was no response to her query and no movement in the room.

Nervously, she stole a glance to the other side of the mattress, her stomach fluttering at the thought of seeing him there, right next to her.

But the other side of the bed was made up as neat and tidy as when she had entered the room. Clearly it had not been disturbed.

There it was again. She whipped her head around in the direction of what could best be described as a whistling sound. Lighting the candle next to the bed illuminated the room but provided no answers as to the source of the noise.

Gathering her courage and the candle, she investigated further and found the sound came from the other side of Julian's dressing room door.

Unable to determine what sort of household pet or general pest would make such a noise, Laurel braced herself for whatever she might find.

Holding the candlestick in one hand, she opened the door with the other and slowly entered the dressing area.

Julian. Sound asleep, lay supine upon the settee, though his feet hung over the edge in what looked like a vexingly awkward position.

What ought she to do? Wake him up and tell him to get into bed with her? As though she’d have the courage to say such a thing. A nervous giggle threatened to pass her lips, but she clamped them closed in the nick of time.

And why had he chosen to sleep in this extremely uncomfortable room when there was an extremely comfortable bed available to him?

He had not even changed into nightclothes, though he had removed his coat, cravat and boots.

His shirt was open at the neck, and she could see the rough edges of scarred flesh there, similar to what was on his left cheek.

Instinctively her fingers reached out to touch the mottled flesh, but she caught herself before she did so.

What had possessed her to even consider such a thing?

In sleep, his face relaxed and he looked almost content in a way she had never seen when he was awake. Despite the twisted position, he slept deeply, his breath moving in and out of his lungs in a long, steady rhythm.

Moving to the bed, she removed a pillow and a spare blanket and returned, covering her husband and managing to situate his head upon the pillow without waking him.

Her hand lingered along the left side of his face, the roughness of his whiskers and the unevenness of the damaged skin prickled against her palm.

Julian mumbled something in his sleep and a gentle smile formed on his lips.

Laurel removed her hand as quickly as she could without waking him.

Her palm felt as though it had been scorched. She’d never dare do something so bold if he were awake, but the vulnerability of him in sleep had weakened her sensibilities.

The blanket came loose so she tucked it around him again, careful not to wake him. She had no idea how he would react if he woke and saw her standing over him.

As she leaned in to adjust the blanket, a few strands of her hair fell onto his face and tickled his nose. She drew her head back and then froze in place as he wrinkled his nose and rubbed his hand over it. When he settled again, she finished tucking then hurried back to the big, empty bed.