Chapter 27

CHAPTER 27

M uch to Archibald’s gratification, they did not emerge from their bedchamber for three days.

A few times a day, maids would enter, bearing some combination of food, fresh linens for the bed, or cans of hot water for the bath. Archibald gave Izzie one of his dressing gowns, an ostentatious burgundy velvet garment that had made him feel ridiculous both times he’d attempted to wear it, for her to wrap herself in while the maids went about their work. It was huge on her, but he quite liked the sight of her wearing it at the table by the window, a quiet acknowledgment that she was his.

But other than those brief intrusions, it was just the two of them. They would make love when they awoke, then have a leisurely breakfast together, make love again, then talk about nothing and everything until it was time for luncheon. Izzie had her maid fetch the manuscript for her book, and they read it together, lying side by side on the bed, waiting for the other to finish before turning the page. Archibald managed to laugh in all the right places, and although it was one of those rare instances when Izzie was bashful, she seemed genuinely pleased by how much he enjoyed it.

On the afternoon of their third day as husband and wife, Archibald was reflecting that the past three days had been the happiest of his life when the knock came at the door.

Izzie had fallen asleep after their latest bout of lovemaking. Archibald had been heading in that direction, but he gently extracted his arm from beneath her head, replaced it with a pillow, then pulled on a shirt and trousers and padded over to the door.

It proved to be his office manager, McPherson, clutching his hat in front of him. “A thousand apologies, Mr. Nettlethorpe-Ogilvy, sir. But might I have a quick word?”

Archibald stepped out into the hallway. It turned out that the King of Salaria had not proven understanding regarding Nettlethorpe Iron’s inability to deliver his order of cannons earlier than promised.

“I’ve been trying to put him off. But he shows up every day with his entourage, shouting and complaining. Today, he threatened to go to the king.”

“King George?” Archibald raked a hand through his hair. “I would think the king would take our side, considering the British Army’s orders would be the ones pushed back were we to expedite those of Salaria.”

Still, he didn’t want the hassle of royal attention. “Tell the king I’ll meet with him tomorrow.”

McPherson’s eyes shone with relief. “Thanks, boss.”

It occurred to Archibald that this was not the only matter he had been neglecting. “And arrange meetings with my contact over at the Office of Ordnance and with the Bow Street Runner who’s investigating the threats against my wife. Have them come to Nettlethorpe Iron if at all possible.”

McPherson bowed his head. “Yes, sir. I’ll send a letter with the meeting times as soon as I have everything arranged.”

“Thank you.”

Archibald slipped back into the room and found Izzie sitting up in bed, the sheet clutched to her chest. “What was that about?”

He came and sat next to her on the bed. “I’m afraid I have to go to Nettlethorpe Iron tomorrow. The King of Salaria is demanding to jump up the queue and have his order of cannons delivered earlier than promised. I have to inform His Majesty that he’s going to have to wait his turn.”

“The King of Salaria!” Izzie made a show of looking impressed. “Such lofty company!”

He flopped onto his back beside her. “Everyone wants cannons when there’s a war on. Not that these kings and princes are excited to make my acquaintance. He’d probably cut me dead if he saw me in the street.”

Wrapping her arms around his chest, she kissed his cheek. “Well, I think you’re worth a hundred of him.”

He slipped his arm around her, enjoying the feel of her head pillowed on his shoulder. “I feel bad about leaving you alone here.”

“I’ll be all right. You have plenty of guards in place.”

“I worry not so much about your safety as that you’ll feel confined.”

“Oh.” She chewed her lip, thinking. “I might if this stretches on too long. But I know you can’t stay away from Nettlethorpe Iron forever. You have a business to run and an important one at that.”

He ran his fingers through her silky, dark hair. It still felt unreal that he was permitted to touch her like this. “Would you like to invite someone to come here? Maybe your sister, or Lady Diana?”

“That’s a splendid idea. Having some visitors will cheer me considerably.”

“I’ll also be meeting with Bow Street and my contact over at Ordnance. So, hopefully, I’ll have some good news regarding the investigation.”

“Let’s hope so.” Izzie pressed a trail of kisses up his jawline. “Do you know what seems truly unfair?”

“What?” he asked, his breath starting to quicken.

She nipped at his ear. “That you’re wearing all of these clothes while I’m lying here naked.”

He turned on his side, pulling her flush against his chest. “How thoughtless of me. Allow me to remedy this oversight…”

So it was that the following morning, Archibald and Izzie did something slightly unfamiliar.

They dressed and came downstairs for breakfast.

His parents were already there, helping themselves to the usual spread that would’ve been better suited for a family of twenty. At least with dozens of his men coming over to guard the house in shifts, the food wouldn’t go to waste.

Izzie smiled at his mother as she settled in with a plate of toast and a poached egg. “Mrs. Nettlethorpe-Ogilvy, have you heard the latest gossip?”

If it occurred to his mother to wonder how he and Izzie would know any of the latest gossip, considering they had not emerged from his room for three days, she gave no sign of it. She leaned forward, her eyes keen. “No! Do tell.”

Izzie glanced around as if she were about to reveal a great secret. “Your son has a new nickname.”

“A new nickname!” In an instant, his mother was all aflutter. “Oh, my gracious heavens. I hadn’t even heard!”

His father perked up, as eager for the gossip as his wife. “What is it?”

“Thorpe. It’s terribly fashionable.” Izzie looked up from spreading marmalade on her toast and gave a little wiggle to convey that she was now coming to the most exciting part. “The Duke of Trevissick is using it.”

“The Duke of Trevissick !” his mother gasped, hands flying to her heart.

“By Jove!” his father exclaimed, looking equally impressed.

His new wife was a genius. Archibald had known that since the day he met her, but this confirmed it.

Her tactics were brilliant, and he could see that her carefully aimed shot had found its mark. There was naked longing on his mother’s face, warring with just a trace of uncertainty.

The longing won out. “Archie?” she asked. “Would you mind terribly if I used your new nickname? I mean… I hate to ask, as I know you prefer to go by Archie—”

Across the table, Izzie made a strangled sound, but she managed to hold her expression neutral. Gesturing to her throat, she covered it by taking a sip of her cocoa.

“—but if the Duke of Trevissick is using it, maybe I should too,” his mother concluded.

Archibald swallowed a mouthful of coffee and set his cup down. “I don’t mind at all. In fact, I rather like it. I feel like it suits me.”

His father grinned as he gestured for a footman to refill his cocoa. “Well, if the Duke of Trevissick likes it, that’s good enough for me!”

“Thorpe,” his mother said to herself. “Thorpe. Thorpe. It may take a few days to accustom myself to using it, but it must be done. How I should hate to appear out of fashion!”

“I daresay you’ll master the trick of it faster than you think, my dove,” his father said. “Thorpe. Has a nice ring to it. Thorpe.”

Across the table, Izzie winked at him. Archibald raised his coffee cup in a subtle salute before taking a sip.

He was going to enjoy being married to this woman. He was going to enjoy it very much.