I allowed my focus to fall upon my new dressing gown, or lack thereof. The moment my family had left, I’d unwrapped the present, immediately understanding why Liza had warned me to wait. She’d gifted me with a sheer cream-colored robe embroidered with strategically placed wildflowers to hide certain parts of my anatomy. It came with a matching nightgown made entirely of sheer lace. Worn together, the garments hinted at nakedness, but worn separately they unabashedly flaunted my form.

Instead of feeling as if I were a walking scandal, I felt confident when I tried them on. My silhouette was visible as firelight flickered behind me. I tied the ribbons at my low neckline, then ran my hands down the sides of my soft curves, staring at my reflection. In less than a day, I’d wear it to my marital bed. The clock chimed off twelve bells, promptly derailing thoughts of tomorrow’s sleeping arrangements. I went back to my task. It was getting late and I needed to attempt to sleep before dawn.

Halfway through undoing my hair, I leaned forward, inspecting this pre-wedding version of myself in the looking glass, searching for any trace of panic or urge to flee. The only emotion I saw staring back was excitement. Pure and radiant. My cheeks were flushed, and there was an undeniable sparkle in my green eyes. I’d finally become the rose with soft petals and sharp thorns Mother always said I could be. The constant pang of nerves that plagued me at the thought of marriage was replaced with a serene calmness. An absolute void of worry or doubt.

I was ready to become Lady Audrey Rose Cresswell.

The name gave me power—perhaps because I’d chosen it for myself, it was no longer something I’d been born into, or something expected of me by my husband. Thomas had made it infinitely clear that I was free to be whoever I wanted to be, and the world could simply swallow an egg if it didn’t like it. My father didn’t seem particularly keen about the idea but deferred to my future husband, who refused to force his will upon anyone but himself. There was power in choice. And I’d choose Thomas in each and every lifetime, if such things were possible.

I smiled to myself. “You’ve truly bewitched me, Cresswell.”

“Always nice to hear, though not entirely surprising, Wadsworth.” I startled back and dropped my last hairpin, meeting Thomas’s mischievous expression in the looking glass as he slipped into my room and quickly shut the door behind him. “Have you seen how handsome I look in this suit?”

I held a hand to my pounding heart as I recovered from the shock of him answering a sentiment he wasn’t meant to hear.

“Audrey Rose.” He bowed deeply, then stood, his gaze snagging on my robe. Whatever quip he’d been about to say abandoned him as I swiveled on the bench, allowing the firelight to illuminate the outline of my body. I tried not to laugh at the slight flush creeping past his collar, or the way his throat bobbed as he quickly swallowed. “I—” He exhaled slowly, as if collecting his thoughts. “You—”

“Yes?” I prompted when nothing else seemed forthcoming. I never thought I’d see the day when Thomas Cresswell was without words, and I relished this clumsy version of him.

“I realized I won’t be able to call you Wadsworth anymore.”

“Oh? And you decided sneaking into my sleeping chamber at midnight to tell me was the best course of action?” I patted the space next to me on the vanity’s bench. After the slightest hesitation, he crossed the room and joined me. I watched the fire crackle in the hearth across from us. “Are you the one whose feet are getting a bit chilly now?”

A smug look replaced whatever nerves he’d shown.

“Apologies for any disappointment, my love, but my toes are exceptionally warm this evening.” Thomas lifted his legs up, wiggling his shiny shoes around. He pulled back his trousers, exposing a thick pair of knitted socks. “It’s simply going to be an adjustment, calling you Cresswell. I’m going to believe I’m talking to myself, not that I’m a bad conversationalist. I rather enjoy having heated debates with myself most days.”

He paused, fidgeting. I realized he was avoiding looking in my direction for too long. Of all the times he’d brashly flirted with me, I couldn’t believe how shy he was when confronted with a nightgown. He wasn’t nearly as flustered during our bath. Maybe it was the bed, looming silently beside us, that made him nervous.

“I tried calling Sir Isaac ‘Wadsworth’ earlier.” He flashed a quick smile. “He wasn’t very agreeable to it, I’m afraid.”

I huffed a laugh. “Why does that not surprise me?”

Thomas took my hand and gently turned it over, tracing the lines of my palm, his expression suddenly serious. His jaw tightened. “There’s still time, you know—if you’ve changed your mind. About… all this. I know this has all gone much faster than you’d have liked. Most engagements are at least six months; then there’s the matter of age. If you’d prefer to wait…”

I shifted so I could take his face in my hands, ensuring his gaze was locked onto mine. I ran my thumb against his jaw, marveling at how good it felt to simply touch him.

“I’ve never been more sure or ready for anything in my whole life, Thomas Cresswell.” He seemed ready to argue, so I lightly kissed him. “In fact, the morning can’t come soon enough. We’ve never done anything by anyone’s rules but our own. Why start worrying now?”

He looked skeptical. “Are you certain?”

“Of us? Most definitely so.”

“How do you know you’re ready?”

“Well, there are lots of reasons,” I said carefully.

“Tell me the most scandalous one.” His request was meant to be lighthearted, but the edge of worry was there. Thomas hadn’t relinquished his fears of inadequacy.

I leaned into him, breathing in the scent of coffee and a hint of rich spirits. I wondered if my father had offered him whiskey, or if he’d been anxious enough to pour some himself.

“I want to fall asleep against your chest and wake up in your arms. I long to be free to hug or kiss you whenever I choose, for as long as I choose. I want to know the sound of your breath as you slip into sleep. I want to—” I sat back, any further flowery declarations wilting on my tongue. The fool was practically bouncing in his seat. “Why are you smiling like that? I’m trying to have a serious moment and you appear as though you either need to use the loo or have inexplicably sat on an anthill in the middle of my room.”

“Apologies.” He fell to his knees before me, the goofy grin stuck in place as he took both of my hands in his. “I’m not making fun; it’s just—you didn’t drop your gaze or increase the pressure in your grip at all.”

I glanced skyward, wondering if I even wanted to ask for clarification. “What in the name of the queen does my grip have to do with my declaration of love, Cresswell?”

“Everything.”

“I—”

He captured my mouth with his. Unlike other stolen kisses, which began slow and sweet, there was a passionate heat in this one. Each time our lips or tongues came together, another spark ignited, until soon my entire body felt as if it were ablaze. Judging from the growing intensity of his kiss, and the daring places our hands touched, neither one of us wanted to control it any longer. We were on dangerous ground, which only made the fall more thrilling.

Thomas still knelt before me, so I pulled him closer, his arms circling my waist as he instinctually pressed his body against mine. Soon he abandoned my lips in favor of kissing my neck, his hands trailing up my sides, leaving no place unattended. I nearly lost my remaining senses as he gently angled my head back, exposing my throat for better access, his fist knotted in my hair. Either he or I made the next move, I wasn’t certain, but suddenly his jacket was on the floor and my robe joined it.

A chill danced across my skin and I couldn’t help but gasp. The robe had been the only item of clothing keeping me semi-decent. My nightgown left nothing to the imagination. Even in dim lighting, my form was plainly visible. As if he’d just realized this himself, Thomas rocked back on his heels, his breathing quick and uneven, much like my own.

For a fraction of a heartbeat, he seemed uncertain.

“Is this all it takes to silence that wicked mouth of yours?” I raised a brow, hoping the quip covered my growing nerves. We were alone in my bedroom, scantily clad, the night before our wedding. I was struggling madly to find a reason to send him away. “If I’d known, I would have worn this ages ago.”

Thomas’s attention snapped to my face. His expression was filled with such raw longing, I lost my futile battle with Victorian morals. He looked like a man who’d discovered his heart’s deepest desire in the flesh and wished to claim it immediately. I realized that his respect for me and my choice was the only tether holding him in place. One little nod would unleash him.

My pulse raced as I silently gave him permission, wanting him to touch me again so badly it almost ached. Thomas Cresswell never disappointed. He leaned into me, his body snug between my thighs.

“Your nightgown is lovely, but your mind is what attracts and captivates me.” His eyes traveled from mine, meandering down the road of delicate lace, igniting a new wave of desire as he gripped the sheer fabric at my hip. His touch was intoxicating. I couldn’t stop myself from arching into it, craving more. “Your body…”

His focus lingered on the ribbons. I enjoyed the elegance of the garment and how I felt both bold and soft while wearing it. Thomas seemed to appreciate it for other reasons, and he was no longer masking how much he wanted me. I drew in a deep breath and fought the urge to completely disrobe him. If he kept looking at me that way, I’d lose control.

“Your spirit.”

Thomas dragged his scorching gaze down every inch of me, leaving no part neglected, his breath hitching the lower it sank. If looks could consume, he’d just devoured me. And I wanted more. A warm sensation started in my toes and moved like honey up my body. It seemed as if Thomas had deduced exactly where the warmth was spreading and wouldn’t mind following the line of sweetness with his mouth. That image almost stopped my heart. I gripped the sides of the bench in a fruitless attempt to rein myself in.