She got up and put on the large cotton robe she wore after bathing. It probably looked ridiculous, given that creamy silk trailed below its hem, but Charlotte didn’t care. It made her feel safer. She tied the cord tightly. And knotted it. Marie had brushed out her hair, giggling significantly the whole time, but even she had left some twenty minutes ago. Maybe Alex had fallen asleep, Charlotte thought with dawning hope. Maybe she would be spared tonight?

But even as her shoulders relaxed, the heavy wooden door swung open and there he stood. Her husband, Charlotte thought. She couldn’t help a tiny smile at the sight of him. Alex was so splendid-looking. He had taken off his cravat at some point, and his white linen shirt was open at the top. He didn’t have on his jacket either, and her eye instinctively followed the line of his skintight knit pantaloons as he walked across the room toward her. Even a ninny would have noticed that he was expecting a good deal more pleasure out of this evening than she was. The last trace of color drained from Charlotte’s face.

Alex swallowed a grimace. By God, he had wanted a virgin bride, but now he saw what one looked like, he wondered why anyone would desire such a thing. Gone was his laughing, teasing, betrothed, who would kiss him good-bye until his blood raged with desire and then run teasingly up the steps to her bedchamber. Charlotte’s pinched white face looked pitifully small.

“Sweetheart,” Alex said, sitting down next to his wife on the bed. “Who’s been telling you old wives’ tales? It doesn’t hurt that much.”

Charlotte digested this in silence. She could hardly say, at this point, that she knew all about the pain and he was wrong. She buried her face in his shoulder. Alex pulled Charlotte into his arms. What in God’s name was she wearing? She looked like a fuzzy white ghost. He started to kiss whatever parts of her face he could pry off his shoulder. Charlotte burrowed closer. Alex put butterfly-light kisses all along the rim of her dainty pink ear. Then he put out his tongue and ran it gently along the swirling shell.

A muffled voice emerged from his shirt. “Have you made love to many virgins?”

Alex’s eyebrows flew up. Did she think there was anything special to it? What had her mama said to her?

“Hundreds,” he chuckled. Charlotte shivered. “I’m fooling, Charlotte,” Alex said. “I made love to one virgin before you.”

That was me, Charlotte thought.

“And she didn’t seem to find it objectionable; in fact, I think she quite enjoyed it,” Alex added.

At that Charlotte clamped her mouth together. Clearly this was not the time to clarify their past relations.