She said um and froze for a second, and Ford regretted having asked. He had come into tonight not sure if they were going to actually sleep together or not, not sure what she expected or what she preferred, and now he found himself leaping wildly from one conclusion to another. She had not recognized the significance of having a chaise in the room, so she had been expecting him to sleep in the bed; but she had seized up at the mention of getting out of her wedding dress, so maybe she was dreading it. And merlin, the last thing he wanted to do was give her the impression that he was eager for something she was not keen on. Maybe he ought to just tell her that, but he also didn't want to give her the impression that he was dreading it, if she was ambivalent — that was a recipe for decimating her self esteem, wasn't it? And it wasn't as though this was her fault. If they were assigning blame for the engagement then he really had to take the lion's share for himself, and it wasn't as though she was at all unappealing, in that sense. She had looked very pretty today; it wasn't just something he had said.
There were a few clasps, she admitted. He nodded and took off his suit jacket, laying it over the back of a chair while he made his way across the room to her. (This had, by the by, achieved his secondary goal of silencing his stream-of-consciousness babbling). He slowed as he neared her, visibly hesitant. Moving into the space behind her and finding the right fasteners was like a slow-motion dance; she might not have moved, but he felt the same trepidation as he had when he was new to society and worried about stepping on someone's feet. The clasps came undone easily enough, and he did two more for good measure — in case he had guessed incorrectly which ones had been 'fiddly' — before he paused.
If they were going to sleep together tonight, this would have been a good moment to touch her. Her neck was bare and he was close enough to kiss her there; his hands were already on the back of her bodice.
"...Jemima," he said — this was the first time he had used her first name, and he felt the weight of having said it, like something had shifted and would never go back now. "What do you want, from tonight?"
There were a few clasps, she admitted. He nodded and took off his suit jacket, laying it over the back of a chair while he made his way across the room to her. (This had, by the by, achieved his secondary goal of silencing his stream-of-consciousness babbling). He slowed as he neared her, visibly hesitant. Moving into the space behind her and finding the right fasteners was like a slow-motion dance; she might not have moved, but he felt the same trepidation as he had when he was new to society and worried about stepping on someone's feet. The clasps came undone easily enough, and he did two more for good measure — in case he had guessed incorrectly which ones had been 'fiddly' — before he paused.
If they were going to sleep together tonight, this would have been a good moment to touch her. Her neck was bare and he was close enough to kiss her there; his hands were already on the back of her bodice.
"...Jemima," he said — this was the first time he had used her first name, and he felt the weight of having said it, like something had shifted and would never go back now. "What do you want, from tonight?"
Set by Lady!