Page 41 of The Reclusive Earl’s Scandal (Vows and Vanity #1)

The evening of her wedding, Rebecca sat in the library at Edward’s side, a book open in her lap. A nervous energy ran through her body, never letting her quite settle. Idly, she wondered if that was how Edward had always felt when he spoke of his anxiety.

Always on-edge, always thinking of something or other. Except this was rather different.

For although she was reading, as he was, she couldn’t quite tear her thoughts from the night ahead. She had learned plenty about such things, and her mother had not always been shy about how she discussed it. But still, Rebecca truly had no idea what to expect.

Her eyes met Edward’s, finding his gaze already on her over the top of his book. Her stomach swooped, and she looked away, fighting a smile.

“Yes, Rebecca?” he asked quietly, cocking his head as if he knew.

Heavens, she had once jested with him for his love of books, but the way he held it now made her heart pound. Tearing her gaze from his hands, hands that she wanted to be held by in the most intimate of ways, she feigned innocence.

“Nothing at all,” she murmured.

“I see,” he answered. For a while, only silence fell between them, comfortable and happy.

Rebecca didn’t think anybody had noticed her father’s red-rimmed eyes at the ceremony, or the fact that he had been drinking brandy since breakfast. Edward and her father had spoken at their wedding ball, and Edward had promised to speak with a solicitor regarding the duke’s debts only if the duke showed evidence of lessening his alcohol and gambling habits.

Perhaps it was an invasion of privacy, but Edward could not, in good faith, give his money to save the family, only to worry it was continuing on indulging the duke’s vices.

The duke had begrudgingly agreed to show weekly ledgers as proof until he garnered trust from both Edward and Rebecca.

Although she felt strange trying to take authority over her father in such ways she knew it was necessary for her family.

Soon, the accounts would be filled again, and even if some things could not be replaced, their family would not fall to utter ruin.

Finding out Harry had been the one to attack Edward had devastated Rebecca, and she had written him one last strongly-worded letter to ask him to never, ever approach her again. She had mourned what they’d once had, but his bitterness had ruined anything they could have had as friends.

In truth, Rebecca knew her life had turned out far differently to what she had envisioned at the start of the Season, but in other ways it was not so changed.

“The Countess of Thornshire,” she murmured aloud, toying with her new title. “I rather like it.”

Edward looked up at her again, smiling. “I personally love it. It suits you, my countess.”

Rebecca blushed, trying to look back at her book, but her mind had been captured by her handsome earl across from her. He toyed with the corner of his book, as if debating whether to close it over fully. After another moment, he did, and he fixed her with a devastating, crooked grin.

“Will the Countess of Thornshire do me the honour of accompanying me to my room?”

His question came with a slight shake, and she was happy to know he was as nervous as her.

Biting her lip, Rebecca nodded and closed her own book.

Together, they stood, and Edward took her hand.

Tomorrow, they would depart for Thornshire Hall with Barnes and Benedict, but tonight…

tonight the place was theirs, for the dowager countess had already moved to her Dower House, and Lady Elena had excused herself to help her mother settle.

It left Rebecca and Edward with the house to themselves.

Step by step, they ascended to Edward’s room.

Rebecca searched for words to fill the silence, but found none, and found that she was merely doing it out of habit rather than a lack of comfort within the silence itself.

Instead, she kept quiet and she let herself be led down the hallway.

When Edward pushed open the door, she faced a dozen candles lit sporadically across the room, all of them decorative and ornate.

Her breath caught at how intimate it appeared.

Dark sheets spread over the bed, and her stomach gave another nervous dip.

“I know it is customary to consummate one’s marriage,” Edward murmured from behind her. His hands glided over her arms without truly touching her. Close enough to feel the almost-touch, but not enough to feel pressured. “But if you do not wish to then you may retire to your own chamber.”

Her palms sweated, and her legs trembled terribly, but there was a deep yearning in her.

She turned to him, relaxing as soon as his arms circled her waist.

“I do not wish to do that,” she whispered. Mercifully, her voice didn’t crack. Her head tipped to look up at her towering husband. How strange that other men had made her feel so small in comparison to their height, yet with Edward all she felt was safe and bracketed in a comfortable way.

“Are you certain?”

“Most certain,” she answered softly.