It didn’t feel lonely.
Quite the contrary. Everything about the chamber reminded her of his presence.
No doubt he had gone about his business.
She loved the fact that he bounded out of bed and met the world to fulfill his duty. It had been kind of him to let her sleep, and she vaguely recalled a soft kiss and murmured adieu.
Beatrice lifted her fingers to her lips.
Delicious scents wafted toward her, and she perked toward them.
She pushed herself up and clasped the linen sheet to herself. She looked about his large chamber and beamed, despite the nerves that would not quite dissipate at their union.
It was such a beautiful room, so very masculine with its mahogany wood, green leather chairs, and desks and tables strewn with books stacked carefully.
She laughed at that.
Her books were never stacked so carefully.
They were always a shambles with whatever she had looked at the last moment on top, but his were meticulously organized.
In fact, they were squared from largest to smallest in towers.
She would have to remember and leave everything intact as she found it, or perhaps she could bedevil him and put everything out of order. No, she would never be so cruel as to do something like that.
Then she spotted it.
The tray that was emanating such compelling aromas. Suddenly she was ravenous. Her stomach growled loudly, and she bounded up from the bed, linen sheet wrapped about her body, and crossed to it.
The scent of strong coffee drifted up from the ornately engraved silver coffeepot. Several flaky rolls with butter and jam awaited her on a blue-painted porcelain dish, and fat purple grapes tempted her, waiting to be popped into her mouth.
There was also a note on thick ivory paper. She snapped it up quickly and peered at it, scanning the bold handwriting quickly, and she quirked a brow.
My dear Beatrice, I have gone to the House of Lords. Several important bills are being read today, and it is important to give my presence. If you would like to come and visit me, you are certainly welcome to come to the Stranger’s Gallery and watch the debates. Or, which might be more suited toward you, you can organize your bedchamber. The duchess’s room has been made ready at your disposal, and you may do whatever you like with it.
Yours, William.
She stared at that note and frowned. Quietly, she put the note back and paused.
So, they would have separate rooms.
It was quite common for married couples, and given the fact that they weren’t meant to be swooning over each other and claiming inseparability, she was not surprised.
Still, it was a bit interesting. He was getting rid of her already.
Not getting rid of, she amended, but perhaps setting his boundaries. She was to have her space, and he his. She couldn’t complain, though. It had been a wonderful night, and he was inviting her to come watch him debate.
But that was rather odd, too.
The idea that she would be a spectator to his life rather than a participant. Of course, wasn’t that the way of it? Men were the active, and ladies were the passive.
She swiped up a roll, tore it open, and spread thick marmalade along the fluffy white inside.
William was going to get quite a surprise if he thought she’d spend the day ordering curtains or being his audience.
She already had several engagements for the day that had been arranged before their marriage. She had not bothered telling him because she didn’t think he would be particularly interested.
As he had made plain in the note, they would have separate lives in this marriage.