Sophie felt the pleasure at his generosity ebb a little. It seemed Callum did not attach any importance to them creating a home together, simply to her making a suitable framework for entertaining and the advancement of his career. Shopping would be delightful, of course, especially as she had both her wardrobe and the house to buy for, but it would be lonely too. How on earth did a new wife, with no contacts and a busy husband, make friends?
Sophia felt her smile slip and hastily adjusted her expression, but Callum was looking severe again. What to talk about now? He seemed dismissive of housekeeping and decorating, they had exhausted the matter of her clothing and, so far, they had not established any topics of mutual interest—always assuming any existed at all.
It would be rather a long time before there would be the children to discuss, she thought ruefully, and then remembered what must come first in the elegant French bed upstairs.
‘What is wrong, Sophia?’ Callum seemed uncannily perceptive. She must try harder to mask her thoughts from him.
‘Nothing. Nothing at all.’ That was too vehement and his brows drew together as though he suspected her of keeping secrets from him. ‘I will go and oversee the unpacking.’
‘I am not sure you should be spending your wedding day doing that sort of thing. If it had not been for that journey, which must have tired you, I would take you to the theatre. As it is—’ Callum stood up and the room seemed subtly smaller, as though he had moved closer and was crowding her. Sophia found her eyes were at precisely the right level to notice what he was thinking of as suitable employment for a wedding day. She stood up with more haste than elegance.
She was blushing, she knew she was. Somehow, through the past few days, she had kept at bay the memory of what had happened at Long Welling, with the kind of desperation that a child applies to pretending it has not got toothache and does not need to visit the dentist. Not that being made love to by Callum would be like visiting the tooth-puller, exactly. She knew, in theory, what to expect, and surely it would not be so bad? Embarrassing, of course.
Even thinking about it made her tremble. Was that desire? Ladies did not take pleasure in the marriage bed, Mama had explained. It was a duty that led to the reward of children. With a man one loved it would be easier, but with Callum she felt desperately shy and worried about disappointing him.
‘I must … I mean, there are things I need to have today, and Chivers does not know what I want. There’s my dressing case and my nightgown and …’
Callum’s mouth curved as she stumbled to a halt. ‘I am sure Chivers will realise that you will require a nightgown.’ That smile. He was a younger, much more approachable man when he looked like that.
‘No … but, I mean she will not know which one.’ Oh, for goodness’ sake, Sophia, you are in a deep enough hole. Just stop digging!
‘A special nightgown for your wedding night?’ He was teasing her now and the embarrassment began to give way to something else. Something more than liking. The desire to be friends, to share that amusement.
‘Um … yes. Well, I thought I ought … I enjoy embroidery.’ The laughter was still there, so she ventured, ‘A young lady is not supposed to think about wedding nights, but sewing roses around one’s nightgown gives one time to contemplate …’ Now she really had mired herself into the hole. In a moment he was going to enquire acidly who she had been imagining in her bed with her. How tactless of her. No doubt she was crimson. He must think her completely gauche.
‘I will be very careful with it, then, if you have made it yourself,’ Callum said and the hint of a smile in his voice somehow made her conf
usion even greater.
‘Thank you. Anyway …’ she began to edge towards the door ‘… I really need to make sure she knows what she is doing …’
Callum opened the door for her and Sophia escaped into the hall. She had to be pleased that Callum wanted to come to her bed—at least that aspect of their marriage would be close. As she climbed slowly up to her bedchamber she wondered how much he minded that she had been betrothed to Daniel. How would she have felt if the positions had been reversed and she had had a sister who had been betrothed to Callum and who had then died?
Jealous, she decided and stopped on the landing to consider that. She would have been jealous because, frankly, Callum Chatterton was a very attractive man. Or would she have felt that way if her imaginary sister … ‘Oh, for goodness’ sake,’ she muttered under her breath. Men did not have the same sensibilities over such matters as women, she was certain. Callum was a man, and she was a woman, so he wanted to sleep with her. And he wanted an heir. For the rest, she was sure he regarded her, at best, tolerantly and, at worst as a constant reminder of his twin.
Which probably explained his coolness most of the time. It isn’t my fault, she thought resentfully as she pushed open her bedroom door. I never expected him to marry me. I did not ask him to. But men know best. Or they think they do …
‘Ma’am?’ Chivers looked up from the trunk she was bending over, her expression wary.
Sophia realised she must have been frowning and smiled. ‘I came up so we could discuss what needs unpacking first.’
‘It is all done, ma’am.’
And so it was. The pretty lawn nightgown with the roses around the neckline was laid out on the bed, her brushes and jars were arranged on the dressing table and a glimpse through the open door into the dressing room showed open drawers and presses. The trunk that Chivers was emptying was the last of the luggage.
‘You are very efficient,’ Sophia said, sensing that the maid was a trifle put out to be supervised.
‘I hope to give satisfaction, ma’am. I thought the black silk with the beading for this evening? I have it downstairs in the washhouse to steam out the creases.’
‘That will be perfect, thank you, Chivers.’ It was her only suitable evening gown so the maid was being tactful by implying there was a choice. ‘I need to shop for just about everything,’ she admitted. ‘Mr Chatterton will be entertaining a great deal, so I will need a number of evening gowns.’
‘And morning and walking dresses and lingerie, ma’am. And hats, pelisses, spencers, shawls, shoes, gloves, reticules …’
‘Oh dear. Is all of my wardrobe that unsuitable for town, Chivers?’
‘It is very suitable for an unmarried lady who has been in mourning, ma’am,’ she said with tact. ‘But not for a married one. Will you be shopping soon?’
‘We will start tomorrow and I hope you will be able to tell me where we should go.’