Free A Season for Love by Cynthia Breeding

her mouth. “Let me explain. ”
    When he’d finished, she continued to stare at him. “Your parents approve of this?”
    “Yes!” Darian traced her cheek with two fingers. “Even if they did not—and they do —it would not matter. I do not want a wife I do not love and I do not want a mistress either. I want you.” He knelt beside her and took her hand. “Will you marry me?”
    Elizabeth stared at him. If she were having a delusion, she didn’t want it to end. But he was real. The warmth and strength of his fingers was real. She threw her arms around his neck. “Yes! Yes, I will marry you.”
    He kissed her slowly and fully on the mouth and then stood. “So, how lavish a wedding do you want? Please just do not make me wait six months.”
    Elizabeth smiled at him. “Then you are in luck, my lord. I have never wanted all the frills and frippery of a big wedding. The vows are the important thing and those I would make privately to you and to God.”
    Darian grinned and drew her close again. “Then it is off to London and a special license. If I hire private coaches, by tomorrow night you will be the Marchioness of Bingington, my lady.”
     
     
     
     
     
     
    Chapter Ten
     
     
    Darian lifted the brass knocker on the house in Mayfair. If the butler were surprised at his arrival with his new bride on his arm, he was too well-trained to show it.
    “Welcome back, my lord,” he said and gave a small bow to Elizabeth. “Your ladyship.”
    It was going to take some time getting used to the fact that she actually was a marchioness. Darian had told her she really didn’t need to assume any duties until they arrived at Bingington. The Mayfair house was run efficiently by the chatelaine, Mrs. Simson.
    Elizabeth looked around the large foyer with its black and white checkered tile floor and open ceiling. An ornately-carved Chippendale receiving-table stood near the door with its silver card-tray, and a massive gold-gilded mirror adorned the wall above it. A magnificent mahogany staircase spiraled up to the second floor.
    Mrs. Simson strode toward them, a bevy of servants behind her. She curtsied to Elizabeth as introductions were made. “I hope you will find all to your liking, my lady,” she said and began issuing orders for the footmen to carry the bags upstairs and for a bath to be brought to the lady’s chamber.
    Elizabeth and Darian followed her up the stairs. Mrs. Simson opened a door to a room done in shades of blue satin and silk. “This is the lady’s bed chamber.” She motioned for the young maid who’d followed them. “This is Elsie. She will be personally attending you. If you require anything, do not hesitate to ask.”
    “I will be next door.” Darian winked at Elizabeth. “Waiting.”
    Elsie bustled about, unpacking the few things Elizabeth had brought while the footman carried in pails of steaming water for the bath. Elizabeth drank in the luxury of the room with its plumped feather bed and canopy. She felt her cheeks warm. She would she be sharing that bed with Darian soon. Anticipation, as well as apprehension, made her mouth dry. She’d heard there was pain the first time. Would she be able to bear it and please Darian?
    “The bath is ready, my lady.”
    Elizabeth turned so Elsie could undo the buttons at the back of her dress and unlace the corset. Gratefully, she stepped out of them and slipped into the tub. Elsie had scented the water with soothing lavender leaves.
    The maid moved around the room, lighting the small fire in the hearth, turning down the counterpane on the bed, and laying out thirsty towels near the tub. Elizabeth closed her eyes, enjoying the swirl of the warm water, letting the aromatic fragrance of the lavender settle her nerves. She would soak for just a few minutes…
    “Soap, my lady?” Darian asked from behind her.
    Her eyes sprang open and she sat up abruptly, splashing water over the edge and then sank down equally fast, covering her breasts with her hands.