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pulled it on, allowing the filmy material to flow easily down over her vulnerable body.
    Torn as to whether or not to leave the candle burning, she bit her lip and glanced toward the connecting door. He would bring his own candle, wouldn't he? But if there was no light in her room, she would seem unwelcoming, wouldn't she? Well, she didn't welcome him, her baser self insisted. Still, she had married him. He had every right to expect her to be ready for him to . . . do whatever it was he wished to do to her.
    This, too, shall pass.
    Prudence climbed into bed after moving the candle as far away as possible, so that its faint gleam scarcely reached her. Probably he would snuff it in any case, as well as his own, to leave them in the dark. Oh, God. She couldn't do this. Not now, not tonight. It had been a long and difficult day. But if not tonight, she would just be prolonging the alarming moment. She pulled the covers up to her chin, holding them there with whitened knuckles.
    * * * *
    Ledbetter tied the sash of his dressing gown around his waist. Then he ran his fingers through his coal black hair and frowned at his reflection in the mirror. She would be expecting him to look elegant, but how could one in a dressing gown, for God's sake? Especially one of his dressing gowns, chosen exclusively for their warmth in the drafty rooms at Salston. Frankly, Ledbetter was not certain any man could look elegant and sophisticated unless he was wearing a neckcloth, and you surely could not wear one with a dressing gown.
    And would she be expecting him to be wearing something under his dressing gown? His cotton drawers, perhaps. Ledbetter was not accustomed to wearing anything at all to bed. He preferred it that way, even when the sheets were cold. Which surely would not be the case tonight, since his bride would have had the sense to use the warming pan on both her side of the bed and his. Wouldn't she?
    But then, what if she had done that some time ago, and the bed was cold again?
    Ledbetter made a snort of disgust. Oh, the hell with all that. He picked up his candle and walked purposefully toward the door which led into the second room of the suite. But there he hesitated, wondering if he should knock. What if she was a very slow undresser and she was still dithering about in the middle of the room, half clothed?
    Well, too bad, he decided, though he did just give a tap to the door before he opened it and walked through. There was a candle burning on the chest of drawers, but scarcely enough light to reach the four poster bed. He couldn't see her at all in the shadows, though he felt certain she must be in the bed. He snuffed her candle, kept his in hand and advanced toward the bed.
    Her face looked even paler against the white linens than it had looked before she came abovestairs. The sprinkling of freckles seemed to stand out on the bridge of her nose. Her eyes were closed, but Ledbetter felt sure she wasn't asleep.
    “Prudence?”
    Her eyes fluttered open and she regarded him silently.
    “Do you mind if I join you in bed?” he asked.
    “Yes,” she said, though there was a total lack of expression on her face.
    “You do mind if I join you?” he asked, surprised.
    Her mouth opened and closed a few times, before she managed to say, “I'm afraid I . . . don't feel very well.”
    “Ah,” he said. Now what? Ledbetter supposed he must graciously leave her if she didn't feel well. “Poor dear. It's been a trying day for you. Can I send for anything? Mrs. Granger probably has a soothing draft if you would like it. Is it your stomach?”
    “No. Yes. Everything.”
    Hmm. “I see.” Though of course he didn't. “Well, my dear, if there's nothing I can get for you, I will say goodnight.”
    “No, no, nothing. I feel certain I'll be perfectly all right in the morning.”
    “Yes, of course. A good night's sleep will set you up just right, I daresay.” Ledbetter could not be positive, but in the wavering light of the candle his