The Wedding Bed (The Sun Never Sets, Book One) by Ava Archer Payne Read Free Book Online

inside and stood huddled together in a grand, cavernous foyer, surrounded by shadows and silence.
    Calla heard Derek mutter a curse, then he reached for a lamp and turned up the wick.
    “Bellowes!” he thundered. Turning to her, he said, “My apologies. I am not in the habit of requiring my servants to await my arrival at night.”
    The obvious implication being, of course, neither he nor his staff was prepared for the intrusion of guests. Before she could respond, an elderly man attired in a dressing robe, cap, and slippers came toward them. The candle lantern he carried gave him an almost spectral glow. Despite the fact that he’d obviously just been roused from his bed, he moved with regal dignity, displaying not the smallest hint of surprise at the late-night summons, or the presence of two strange women dripping all over his sleek marble floor.
    “Good evening, Lord Keating,” he intoned. “How may I be of service?”
    “Miss Staunton and Mrs. Singh will be staying. You may awaken the staff and have them see to it that our guests are made comfortable.” He gave a vague wave in their direction. “Hot baths, fresh linens, tea, supper…whatever they require.”
    “ Very good, my lord.” 
    Bellowes turned to comply with the order, but Calla stopped him. “Wait,” she said. She looked at Derek. “I’m sure we don’t need to wake the entire household.” That would hardly endear her to the servants in her new home. “I’m certain we can manage on our own, if you’ll just point us in the right direction.”
    Derek considered her request, then shrugged. Looking at Bellowes, he said, “Very well. The west wing, I would think. You may show Mrs. Singh to the Gold Room. I’ll take Miss Staunton to the Blue Room.”
    Bellowes, who had been utterly imperturbable until that moment, allowed shock to crack his previously stoic mask. His gaze shot to Calla, taking in her sodden traveling costume and worn valise, then swung back to Derek. “The Blue Room , my lord?”
    Derek arched one dark brow and looked at his butler. “Problem, Bellowes?”
    Bellowes recovered himself immediately. “Of course not, my lord. Very good, my lord.”
    “I’m relieved beyond words to have received your approval.”
    Even in the dim, flickering light, it was impossible to miss the twin spots of color that flamed in Bellowes’ cheeks.
    “This way,” Derek said, reaching for Calla’s overnight bag. He lifted a table lamp and strode off is one direction, leaving Bellowes, Mrs. Singh, and their driver, who carried Mrs. Singh’s bag, to move off in another.
    Calla followed him up a broad curving staircase, past spacious rooms, ornate galleries, and long hallways. Lord Keating’s home was handsome in the effortless style of those to whom money is of no concern. Everything tasteful and elegant. Yet it was utterly devoid of any semblance of Derek’s childhood in Bengal. Nothing within his home contained even a suggestion of India. Almost as though he wanted to blot that part of his existence out completely. Even the walls of the grand foyer, which might normally serve as a showcase for ancestral portraits, displayed nothing but tepid pastoral landscapes.
    She would have loved to study it all in greater detail, but Lord Keating moved too quickly. As it was, she nearly had to trot to keep pace with him. At length they reached a set of broad double doors. He threw them open, allowing her a glimpse of an exquisitely furnished chamber done in shades of rich aqua and bold cobalt. In the center of the room stood a mahogany four-poster bed. Calla noted a dainty vanity, feminine desk, richly appointed reading alcove, and various chairs and settees. The scale and materials of each piece had clearly been designed to suit a woman’s smaller frame and more delicate sensibilities.
    She took that all in with one sweeping glance, then froze at th e sight of a connecting doorway, beyond which was a large, distinctly masculine bedchamber.
    The