Chapter 19

CHAPTER 19

E liza sat in her bedroom, her wedding nightgown fanned out around her as though she was a prize waiting on a pedestal.

Which, she supposed, she was.

Or she was supposed to be.

Except in this case, Fitz had already received his gift.

Even though she was expecting him, she jumped when the door opened and Fitz stepped in.

"Eliza," he murmured with rare hesitation in his gaze.

"Fitz," she returned.

He slowly stepped into the room toward her, stopping before he came too close.

"How are you?"

She would have laughed were she not so on edge.

"I—" she was about to say that she was well, but that was not true at all. She had been well, but now the anxious ball in the pit of her stomach had begun to grow.

It was that same feeling she had when she first realized that she might be expecting, one that came and went but seemed to worsen when she was worried.

As she was right now.

"I am feeling slightly unwell," she admitted.

"I am sorry to hear that," he said, coming to her side and crouching before her. "Is it the baby? Our wedding? The fact that this is our wedding night? I promise, Eliza, that I have no expectations."

"Thank you," she said softly, unable to look at him for a reason she could not name. "Could we simply converse for a time?"

"Of course," he said, taking her hand and helping her stand. "Why do we not sit on the bed where we are more comfortable?"

She nodded before allowing him to lead her over. He fluffed up the pillows, creating a comfortable space for her before leaning her back against them and then taking up position beside her. He didn't touch her, giving her space as he settled one leg over the other and relaxed with his hands crossed over his stomach.

"What would you like to talk about?"

"Our ceremony?" she suggested. "It was beautiful."

"It was," he agreed. "Although no part of it was more beautiful than the bride."

"You are kind," she said, unexpected warmth stealing up her cheeks.

"I only speak the truth."

It had been a lovely ceremony. The chapel had been aired out and yet still held a scent of history, of family, of comfort. When she had stepped within, somehow Eliza had known that everything would be all right.

"I—" she began to speak but then a wave of nausea rolled over her and she groaned, shifting so that she was on her side.

"What's wrong?" Fitz asked, immediately kneeling over her, his hands coming to her cheeks.

"I just don't feel well," she said. "It comes and goes but is worse when I don't eat as much as I should. I was so caught up in all that was happening today that I did not have much of an appetite, especially at dinner this evening."

"I noticed," he said, "but I wasn't sure it was my place to say anything."

"You are my husband now," she said wryly. "That gives you the privilege to say whatever you would like to me."

"That may be so, but I am well aware that you are not a woman who would be particularly pleased if I commented on your every movement."

"This is true," she agreed, closing her eyes and breathing in through her nose and out through her mouth as she tried to ease the sensations.

"Can I do anything to help?" he asked, and she nodded slowly.

"I could use something to eat."

"What do you feel like?"

"Pastries," she said. "I always feel like pastries."

"Pastries coming right away," he said, practically bounding to the door, and she cracked open an eye to look at him.

"You're not calling for a servant?"

"I don't trust anyone to select the right ones for you," he said, holding up a finger. "I know where the cook hides her very best."

Eliza couldn't help but smile as he hurriedly left. They had certainly had their misunderstanding, but deep down, he was a good man. She wouldn't have agreed to marry him if he wasn't.

He returned quicker than she expected, but, being Fitz, he hadn't just brought her one pastry. Or even a plate of pastries. No, Fitz had brought her an entire basketful.

"Fitz!" she laughed as she pushed herself up to sit. "Thank you for the food, but I could not possibly eat all that!"

"I can help," he said with a shrug as he flopped down on the bed beside her. "What's your favorite?"

"Do you have a Sally Lunn Bun?"

"I believe I do," he said with a grin. "I was hoping you wouldn't say you wanted the Bath Buns as those are my favorite."

She made a face. "They have currants. Desserts should not have currants."

"That's the very best part!"

He found one for himself and Eliza couldn't help but stare at the sugar crystals that covered it. He noticed the direction of her gaze as he grinned at her.

"You want it, don't you?"

"I don't want the entire bun," she said. "But a bite would do."

Without question, he passed over the pastry and she sunk her teeth into it, scraping off the sugar and the top layer, carefully missing all of the currants, before passing it back to him.

"Thank you," she said from around the pastry.

"You are most welcome," he said, taking a closer inspection. "I see you left me all of the currants."

"Of course. I wouldn't want to deny you the pleasure."

They sat silently for a few minutes, finishing their sweets, before she lay her head back against the pillows.

"Are you feeling better?" he asked.

"My stomach discomfort has eased, but the exhaustion hasn't," she said. "I can hardly imagine how I will feel in a few months if I already need to constantly lie down."

He stretched out on his side next to her, his head resting on his fist.

"I will find the best midwife or accoucheur around – whomever you'd like, in addition to Dot," he said earnestly. "We will make certain that you have the very best care."

"Thank you," she said with a small smile. "I appreciate that. And I am glad that you now believe me."

"I should have from the start," he said gruffly. He reached out and tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. "Go to sleep."

"Do you not want?—"

"I want only for you to feel well and stay healthy," he said, shifting his head from side to side. "That is all that matters to me."

"I need to ask you something," she said, tracing embroidery on the gold coverlet with her fingernail. "What are to be the… guidelines of our marriage? I know marriages of the ton – especially those that are not based on love – are often marriages only in name. I understand that you did not want to be married so I will not force you into anything, but I feel it best if I know from the start what to expect."

He lifted himself on his elbows and stared deeply into her eyes.

"The beginnings of our marriage may be unconventional," he said, "but there will be no one involved in our marriage except for the two of us. Do you understand?"

"You do not want to take other lovers?" Her heart tripped at the words, but she had to ask.

"No," he said, shaking his head fiercely. "Neither of us will."

She nodded slowly, trying unsuccessfully to hide her emerging smile. She didn't want to appear too eager.

"I would like that," she said softly.

"Good."

She reached a hand toward him and slowly trailed her fingers down his face. "What if I think I would feel better if we were to… enjoy one another and our wedding night?"

His face lit up so intensely that she was nearly blinded. "I think that's a wonderful idea!" He paused. "But only if you feel up to it. And if you would like to stop at any time, that is completely understandable."

She nodded. "I will tell you if I do."

"Thank you."

She leaned in, making the first move.

His words of assurance warmed her heart, filling her with a sense of trust and security that she would never have expected to come from Fitz. It gave her the confidence to meet his lips in what began as a soft, hesitant kiss.

His returning tender touch sent a rush of warmth through her veins, and it was like a spark had been lit and began running along a line of gunpowder to her center, where it exploded in a need for him that overwhelmed all of her other sensations.

His arms wrapped around her, pulling her closer in a deeper embrace as his hands ran gently down her back, sending shivers cascading through her body.

Eliza's mind was awash with a whirlwind of emotions – desire, longing, and a newfound sense of belonging.

They had been together before, but now, joining as husband and wife seemed to hold an entirely new meaning. Every brush of his fingertips against her skin, as he did away with the nightgown that had been designed to easily fall off of her, felt like a revelation, awakening previously hidden sensations.

His kiss was the only place they were currently joined, but he seemed to be interested in changing that as he swept his hand down over the sensitive seam between her legs.

"Are you ready?" he asked, and she nodded against him, returning her lips to his, finding comfort and safety there.

He notched himself against her before slowly easing in, finding home. Her head fell back as she gave in to the sensations coursing through her, and with every subsequent thrust she moaned as she gave herself over to him completely, allowing vulnerability to wash over her.

His thumb circled her nub of nerves as he continued his thrusts, until she unraveled around him, letting herself go, the pulsing waves reminding her of how much she had missed this – missed him .

She knew that to give herself to him like this was to open herself up to heartbreak, but he had promised that he would not stray and would remain in her bed and her bed alone. She would have to trust him in that, just as he had eventually trusted her with this baby they had created together.

Even so, she knew that she would have to be careful. She had to shield her heart.

For if she didn't, she could lose everything.

Fitz couldn't subdue the bounce in his step the next morning after leaving Eliza sleeping in bed to begin his day.

"There's the married man," Levi said from the corners of the study when Fitz entered, as he always did, to see to the news of the day before he broke his fast.

"Why are you lurking there in the shadows?" Fitz asked.

"I feel at home here," Levi answered drolly."

"Of course you do," Fitz said with a shrug. Nothing was going to affect him today. He was on top of the world. "Well, what has you hiding in here waiting for me this morning?"

"Siena and I felt it was time for us to return home now that you and Eliza are so… happily married."

"We are married," Fitz said before shrugging quickly. "And I believe that we are happy."

"That's an odd way of phrasing it."

"After last night, I do believe that we are happy. Or, at least, we can be."

"So, you are saying your wedding night went well."

"That it did, Levi, that it did," he said with a sigh, taking his seat and leaning back until his feet were high enough to place on the desk, staring at his friend through steepled fingers. He hardly even noticed Levi's scars anymore, he was so used to them, but he knew they must still pain him. It seemed that Siena's presence in his friend's life had helped ease some of his previous uneasiness about them.

A knock at the door signaled Hastings' entrance, which was like clockwork every morning.

"The post has arrived, my lord," the butler said, placing it on Fitz's desk, and Fitz nodded his thanks, although he resolved to ignore it for now.

Until a letter sitting on the top caught his eye.

His name was scrawled across the middle of it in large, thick black handwriting. It was simply handwriting, and yet he couldn't help but consider that it appeared sinister.

"Do you mind if I open just one?" he asked Levi, gesturing to the stack of papers.

"Go ahead."

Fitz sat behind his desk, finding his letter opener before slicing open the seal, one which he didn't recognize.

He unfolded the paper, his heart already racing faster as the words jumped off of the page toward him.

Lord Fitzroy,

I know you believe that hiding in the country will keep you and your family safe. But do not become comfortable, for I will find you, no matter where you hide away. You will have to return to London at some point, will you not? Or else all that you have worked for will come to naught.

And which is worse? To die or to die without a legacy?

It's your choice, my lord.

May the best man win.

The letter fell from his fingers to the desk in front of him, and he looked up in surprise to find that Levi was already there, picking it up and reading it, his senses honed from his years at war.

He looked up sharply at Fitz, who stood in silence, unsure of what exactly he was supposed to do.

"We must go find Hastings and ask where this letter came from," Levi said, already beginning to solve the problem.

"From the post," Fitz said woodenly. "I was so sure that there was no actual threat. That it was over."

"And now you have a wife and a child on the way to think about – not to mention a mother and seven unmarried sisters," Levi said grimly, understanding the gravity of the issue before Fitz himself even did. "This is a serious matter, Fitz, and one that you must address."

"What do I do?"

"You have to make a choice. Do you trust this detective you hired to continue to look into the matter, or do you return to London and see what you can find for yourself? It is someone who has issues with your politics. Who could you have angered to such an extent?"

"A great many people, I suppose, if they knew what I was doing."

"Do many people know?"

"Not that I'm aware of. But you know how people talk."

"Do I ever."

"I will consider my next steps."

"May I make a suggestion?" Levi inquired, to which Fitz nodded. "Ask your wife. See what she has to say about it."

"I do not mind doing so, but Eliza can be… rather reckless. How can I protect her if she will not make the right decision for herself?"

"I suggested that you ask her opinion," Levi said. "You do not need to ask her to make the decision."

Fitz nodded. "True."

"I do not think I can leave you with this hanging over your head."

Fitz waved a hand in the air. "Nothing has changed. It is the same threat that has been present since Madeline first tried to poison me. Go. Your wife should be home during her confinement and not in a place where she could be in danger. I am happy for you and appreciate you spending the last few weeks with us."

"Of course," Levi said with a nod. "You were there for me during trying times, Fitz. Anything you need, just tell me."

"Hopefully nothing untoward will occur," Fitz said. "But if it does, I know where to find you."