He suspected even in the Earl of Pembroke’s best chamber, he’d be uncomfortable. Hunger for his wife kept him awake at night, not his mean little bed. “Do you?”
When Jane glanced around the parlor, a light entered her eyes. He couldn’t remember paying such close attention to anyone before, even Morwenna. But he’d conducted his first courtship under the full blaze of society’s gaze. He and Morwenna hadn’t spent much time alone and unobserved.
“You know, it might be selfish, but I like our rooms here.”
“Good.” He didn’t want to move into a cavernous barn of a place, no matter how elegant. He wanted to sleep closer to Jane, not further away.
“I might get some ideas for decorating Beardsley Hall.”
He rolled his eyes with theatrical disgust. “I see we’ll be talking cushions and wallpaper.”
She gave a laugh. “Chin up, sir. It’s all for the greater good.”
“Just don’t expect me to proffer any opinion on frills and furbelows.”
“Heaven forbid,” she said, with more of that delightful dryness.
And Garson decided that he didn’t at all mind the idea of looking at cushions and wallpaper, as long as his lovely wife kept teasing him so fondly.
*
Chapter Eighteen
*
It was late. Dinner had long since been cleared away, and Garson and Jane shared the oak settle before the fire. He finished his port and set the empty glass on the table. After an active day, he was pleasantly weary. Jane had been eager to see as much of Wilton House as she could and had even hauled him across the wintry grounds to visit the famous Palladian Bridge.
“What are you thinking about?” she asked softly from beside him.
It was the kind of question lovers asked. Anyone looking at them would assume they shared a bed. They sat hip to hip, and he absently stroked her hand as he stared into the flames.
Since this morning’s impulsive kiss, he hadn’t gone past holding her hand. A change was in the air, but he still feared pushing Jane too far too fast—as he had their first night—and tearing the filigree net drawing them inexorably together. A woman’s trust was both fragile and exquisite.
“I’m thinking how you’ll love Italy.”
“I’ll be so wide-eyed, I’ll drive you mad, I suspect.”
He gave a soft huff of laughter. “I’ll bear up.”
“Such a hero.”
“You have no idea.”
“You certainly bore up today when I made such a fuss about all the treasures we saw. What a lovely house.”
“Yes, I’ve always liked it.”
“It’s been the nicest day.” To his surprise, she turned her hand and laced her fingers through his. “Thank you.”
“It was my pleasure.” Another surprise. It had been. Showing Jane around Wilton House had been fun.
She drew her hand away. “And now it’s time for bed,” she said softly.
Although her announcement heralded nothing more than the sleep of the innocent, his blood heated. He gave his masculine instincts a stern order to step back. There was no reason to get excited. He didn’t even have a kiss to anticipate. “What would you like to do in the morning?”
“Let’s see what the weather brings.” She rose and smoothed her skirts. Another dreary dress. He couldn’t wait to see his Jane in some real color. “Are you coming?”
Devil take her. These damned ambiguous remarks asked for trouble. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”