What a heady power that must be. And he was willing to exercise it on her behalf.

“Truly, I do not mind.”

“As you like.” He shrugged, the pull of velvet across his shoulders a testament not only to the tailor’s skill but the physicality of the man beneath the fabric. Pure feminine appreciation tugged low in her belly. What must he look like without layers of clothing?

She realized in a mix of panic and anticipation that she would find out very soon.

“Come, my child,” Anne’s mother sang out, nearing. “We must make you ready.”

A chorus of cheers and some rather lewd suggestions resounded. Anne wondered if she might reduce to a pile of embarrassed ashes within the cage of her whalebone stays.

“Head up, my lady wife.” Leo’s whisper feathered warmly across her cheek, and edged excitement surged within her at the sensation. “Show ’em your spirit.”

She tilted her chin up, determined to prove herself as brave as she wanted to be. For Leo’s sake—and her own. This day marked her entry into true womanhood, and she was intent on crossing that threshold with a firm and unwavering step.

As she put her shoulders back, Leo’s gaze gleamed with admiration. He gave her a small nod, and she drew courage from it.

Anne allowed herself to be led away by her mother and her giggling kinswomen. The musicians sawed wildly on their instruments, filling the chamber with raucous sound, and the coarse laughter of men pushed Anne toward the door. Before she left, she sent one final glance over her shoulder, toward Leo. Men surrounded him, including the Hellraisers. A good thing Leo had a strong body, else he would have been on the floor from the force of the pounding on his back.

His darkened gaze met hers. Breath caught in her throat. Wickedly handsome. Her husband. Her body belonged to him now. Who is he?

And then she was pulled from the chamber. He disappeared from her sight. The next time she saw him, he would be there to take not just her maidenhead but the last vestiges of her innocence.

The voices in the corridor drew nearer. Men laughing and singing. Anne could not make out the words, though the few words she had been able to distinguish through the door had made her face heat. Soon, the men would be at the door, bringing with them her new husband.

“I hadn’t expected this to be so ... medieval.”

Her mother ran an ebony-handled brush through her unbound hair, tugging hard enough to make Anne wince. “Traditional, Anne.”

“And will everyone be back in the morning to examine the bedclothes?” Pain. There was going to be pain, and very soon. Her heart felt ready to detonate within her chest.

Her mother made that soft grunting noise she always made when annoyed. “There’s no need for such vulgarity.”

“Since the men outside seem to be taking care of that well enough.”

Another grunt from her mother. “You might have spared yourself this. I have heard it is the modern fashion for newly wed couples to embark on a bridal journey immediately following the wedding breakfast.”

“Leo did not suggest it.” And as he was paying for everything else, from her garters to the wine, Anne had been loath to ask. Hearing the rowdy male guests approaching now, she began to question her diffidence.

“She looks beautiful, Eleanor.” Aunt Louise sailed over to where Anne stood in the middle of the bedchamber and idly toyed with the sleeve of Anne’s silk nightgown. “How I envy you, child. There are few excitements in a woman’s life like her first taste of her womanly duties.”

“And how many times did you first taste them, Louise?” asked Lady Byton from her position on a footstool in the corner.

Before Aunt Louise could spit out a reply, Anne’s mother said, “They are nearly here. To the bed, Anne, with haste.”

Anne was herded to the bed, amidst much giggling from the women in the chamber. Her mother flipped back the heavy silk counterpane and pristine white sheets, and all but threw Anne between them. She arranged Anne’s hair so that it covered her breasts. Anne supposed her mother’s eagerness to see the marriage consummated stemmed from the desire to ensure no annulment. Once Anne became Leo’s wife, she was no longer Lord and Lady Wansford’s problem. The responsibility and cost of her upkeep fell to Leo.

Still, it was highly disturbing, contemplating her mother’s eagerness to have Anne couple with a man. And she could not help but feel like a sacrificial animal, tied to a stake and bleating its distress before the inevitable doom. Was it going to hurt very much?

The door to the bedchamber slammed open. A crowd of men shoved Leo forward, though Anne could not see any of the Hellraisers amongst their numbers. Leo managed to keep his footing, despite the crowd’s rough treatment of him. The song the men sang reached its conclusion, and between the presence of everyone in the bedchamber, the lyrics of the song, and the knowledge of what was about to happen, Anne had never blushed so furiously in her life.

Leo smiled and laughed, but Anne had the feeling he merely made the necessary adjustments to his face and voice so that people would believe him in a good humor. Yet even across the room, Anne saw impatience in his gaze. As though he merely tolerated these antique practices, and wanted to get on with the business at hand.

The business being the taking of Anne’s virginity.

“Your bride awaits you,” said Anne’s mother.

In the doorway, Anne’s father coughed.

At least someone was as discomfited as Anne. But it did not give her much solace.

Leo’s gaze moved to her, knowing and astute. She dropped her own gaze to her hands folded on the counterpane. She wondered if he could see her heart pounding against the silk of her nightdress, like a trapped moth. He would touch her soon. She would know the weight of his body on hers.

“My thanks, madam.” His deep voice sent tremors of fear and excitement through her. “And now, good night.” There was no denying it: her husband was dismissing everyone in the chamber as though they were servants.

There were a few mumbles of disappointment. Clearly, the guests wanted to draw out the rather public embarrassment a bit further, but Leo was having none of it. Anne kept her gaze on her hands picking at the coverlet, but she heard the sounds of many feet exiting the bedchamber, some more ribaldry, and feminine giggling.

Then the sound of the door closing. And locking. Music and laughter faded on the other side of the door as the guests resumed their revelry without the bride and groom.

Now, for the first time, she and Leo were truly alone. Silence stretched out, interrupted only by the popping sounds of the fire.

Just look at him, Anne. He’s only a man.

More than that, he was her husband. Therein lay the crucial difference.

Go on. Look at him.

Slowly, Anne lifted her gaze. She started a little when she saw that Leo stood at the foot of the bed. She hadn’t heard him move. Perhaps he had removed his shoes? She fought the absurd urge to peer over the side of the bed and see whether he was merely in his stockings or shod.

They stared at each other. More surprising than finding him standing so close was the glimmer of trepidation in his eyes. In the brief time she had known Leo, not once had he looked anything less than confident. It was a shock to see this extremely hale and potent man uncertain.

Was he ... as afraid as she?

He started to drag his hand through his hair, then stopped and stared at it in disgust.

“I hate powder.” He stalked away and through the door that led to a closet. Anne had seen the small chamber earlier, and noted it contained a copper bathing tub, a close stool, and a few other items for one’s toilette.

She now heard the unmistakable sounds of clothing being removed. Velvet coat first, followed by the embroidered waistcoat. Was that the rustle of his shirt?