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A fire crackled in the hearth, fighting against an early summer cold snap. Emily lay half-sprawled across her husband. It was not ladylike or demure, but Freddie’s shoulder was very comfortable and he had the most delicious way of playing with her hair that made her feel boneless.

She was reading the newspaper, finding snippets she thought might interest him and relaying them as if she found innovations in glasshouses just as fascinating as he did.

Sometimes he would question her for more details, at other times he would dig his fingers into the base of her neck and massage her there until her words slurred, as if she were drunk on his attention.

Although there had been no sign of it, she kept expecting him to tire of her company soon, to remember she was not fascinating or interesting, that she was all the things her mother had told her she was throughout her entire life.

That he was showing no desire to leave her side and go out in Society scared her, not because there was anything wrong but because she was getting used to it; she was allowing herself to luxuriate in his company and the thought that he might one day take that away from her was terrifying.

This evening his fingers were making their way down her spine, doing that delightful massage to the rest of her back. She allowed the newspaper to slide to the floor as she stretched against him, as relaxed as a cat in the sunshine. He shifted slightly and she felt his hardness against her hip.

She lifted her head to peer up at him. ‘Really?’ she said. ‘You are like that here?’

‘I am like that often when you are around. That part of me lives in constant hope of your attention.’

She laughed, rubbing against him, and he groaned the noise he made whenever her body pleased him, the noise that made her own body shiver in response. ‘Should we go upstairs?’

‘It is a long, long way away.’

‘Oh.’ She settled her head against his chest in the hope that he would not see the disappointment in her eyes.

She was expecting him to lose interest in her sooner rather than later, but she hadn’t wanted his interest in their lovemaking to stop so soon.

To her surprise, and Freddie’s seeming delight, marital relations were often her favourite way to spend her day.

She even preferred it to reading, something she had hitherto thought impossible.

She’d thought that Freddie felt the same, but if he didn’t want to go upstairs then…

His hands resumed their ministrations on her back, but the movement didn’t relax her as it normally did.

She was coming to care for her husband, coming to believe that he cared about her too.

When he lost interest it would hurt, hurt much more than she’d prepared for.

And it wouldn’t be because any rejection was painful, although there would be some of that.

It would be because she would know that Freddie was back doing what he liked to do best, laugh and joke with his friends, and that he preferred doing that to spending time with her.

She was so engrossed in her thoughts that she missed the fact that he was undoing the hooks of her dress. It was only as his hands slipped beneath her stays that she realised Freddie’s intent. She pushed herself upright. ‘We cannot do that here.’

He grinned, his eyes full of mischief. ‘Everyone is out other than Lotte, who is in bed. No one need ever know.’

‘You are forgetting the very many servants who also live here,’ she reminded him, even as she helped him pull her arms out of the sleeves of her dress.

‘Ah, but you would not want me to walk up the stairs in this state would you, my darling wife?’ Her heart thrilled at his endearment.

He had started calling her his darling when they were alone and she loved it.

Not that she was going to show him that right now.

There was something about the way she lectured him on impropriety that seemed to goad her husband on to even more outlandish behaviour and she was not averse to playing on it.

The wilder he got, the more he lost control, the more she felt like the most powerful woman on the planet.

‘We could wait until that subsides,’ she said, gesturing to his trousers.

‘We could,’ said Freddie, pulling off her stays and dropping them to the rug. ‘But I have been thinking about a position you will enjoy.’ The fire was warm but goosebumps still rushed over her skin as she sat naked in front of him. ‘I think I shall like it very much too.’

He was momentarily distracted by her breasts.

It never ceased to amaze Emily just how much he enjoyed lavishing attention on them.

She’d been led to believe they were nothing special, that they were far too small to have any appeal to a man, but Freddie appeared to adore them, never missing an opportunity to draw her nipples into his mouth or to cup them in his large hands.

This evening she kneeled next to him on the settee as he leaned forward and showed her exactly how much he adored them.

His dark hair fell over her fingers and she ran her hands over his scalp.

When she was a squirming mess and all her objections to do anything in the Blue Lounge were rendered thoroughly moot by her encouragement of his actions, he quickly divested himself of his clothes.

She reached for him but he moved out of her way. ‘Touch me and this will be over too soon,’ he murmured.

A thrill shot through her. She’d never believed that she would be able to keep a man such as Freddie happy with her body, but he seemed to love the time they spent together as much as she did.

‘Stand up for a moment,’ he told her.

She stood, the action reminding her that she was completely naked in the duke’s house.

She should be embarrassed, but instead, there was a lightness in her chest, an airy joy that began to spread through her body, lightening her limbs and causing her smile to spread wide and free, the sensation only building when Freddie glanced at her from the settee.

He stopped what he was doing and stared, his gaze filled with reverence.

‘I do not understand how I could have married someone as wonderful as you.’ Her heart squeezed; his words sounded a lot like love and she could almost believe that Freddie adored her, that she was the centre of his world.

And yet… he spoke words like this only when the two of them were involved in marital relations.

When they were going about their daily business, he was warm but he was more restrained, less free with his praise.

She adored making love to him, the sensations he pulled out of her were wonderfully intoxicating, but she also cherished these moments because she became the centre of his world and she was learning that this was her favourite way to be.

‘Here,’ he said, patting the cushions he’d been rearranging.

‘Lie here and let me take care of you.’ She stepped forward and he turned her gently so that she was facing away from him, her body propped up by the pillows.

Her vulnerability in this position had her body quivering with excitement.

Even though she couldn’t see Freddie, she trusted him implicitly; everything he had done to her body and her to him since their wedding day had been nothing short of utterly joyful.

The settee dipped as he kneeled behind her and her spine tingled in anticipation.

‘This is like horses,’ she murmured as his length nudged her entrance.

She felt him laugh. ‘I suppose it is,’ he murmured as he slowly eased into her.

‘But they lack the necessary hands to do this.’ One of his hands began stroking between her legs, the other reached up and pinched an already over-sensitised nipple, causing her to cry out.

As he moved, building the pressure within her, he kept up a litany of praise, telling her how beautiful she was, how lucky he was to have married her, how he felt sorry for every other man out there because she was his and not theirs.

And as everything inside her blossomed, she began to believe him.