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Chapter Thirty-Six: A New Beginning

The morning after their wedding was everything Theodore had imagined and more. The night had been filled with passion and promises, their bodies intertwined in a way that was both comforting and thrilling. The love they had shared in the quiet of their wedding night now seemed to glow between them, a tangible bond that neither of them could deny. As the morning light crept through the curtains of their shared chamber, it felt as though the world had been reset, as though nothing existed outside the walls of this room and the two of them.

Theodore lay there, still tangled in the sheets, his arm around Eleanor, as she rested her head against his chest. The rhythm of her breathing was calm, her body warm against his. The last few days, the whirlwind of the ceremony and the vows exchanged, had all been a blur, but now, in the quiet of the morning, Theodore could finally take a moment to truly let the weight of the situation sink in.

She was his. They were married. And he couldn't help but feel a rush of satisfaction at the thought.

Eleanor stirred beside him, her soft sigh pulling him from his thoughts. Slowly, she moved out of his embrace, stretching slightly as she swung her legs off the bed. Her back was to him for a moment, but even from behind, Theodore couldn't help but admire her. The gown she had worn the night before lay in a heap on the floor, a reminder of their passion. He had never imagined he could be so completely captivated by someone, but here she was, his wife, and he was more enchanted with every passing moment.

As Eleanor dressed, slipping into a simple yet elegant morning gown, Theodore followed suit, putting on a shirt and trousers, though he felt no rush to be fully dressed. The idea of lingering in the softness of the sheets with her, just for a little longer, was far more tempting than joining the rest of the family for breakfast. But as the minutes passed, he knew they had to face the world outside their room.

"We should join them for breakfast," Eleanor said quietly, adjusting her hair in front of the mirror.

Theodore couldn't suppress a smile. "I suppose we must," he said, his voice still thick with the remnants of sleep and desire. "But I could certainly enjoy a few more minutes with my new wife."

Eleanor smiled warmly, but with a touch of teasing. "And I with my new husband. But breakfast awaits."

He followed her as they made their way down the hall toward the dining room. As they walked, Theodore's mind wandered back to the events of the night before, to the way Eleanor had worn the delicate lace lingerie beneath her gown, her soft skin and the way she had surrendered herself to him so completely. He couldn't help but smile at the memory, the image of her in that lingerie still vivid in his mind. Even now, as they walked through the halls of the Islington estate, his thoughts kept returning to the memory of her body beneath his touch.

"Good morning," they were greeted as they entered the breakfast room, where the family was already seated. The air was filled with the soft clink of silverware, and the smell of freshly baked bread and rich coffee filled the room.

"Good morning, my love," Theodore said, his voice a little too soft for anyone not to notice. His gaze never left Eleanor as he sat beside her, his hand brushing hers briefly.

"Good morning," she replied, her voice calm but with an undercurrent of something private, something they shared alone.

Theo glanced up and noticed his sister, Catherine, eyeing him knowingly. There was a glint in her eyes, and the slight smirk on her lips made it clear that she was aware of the tension between him and Eleanor. He shifted in his seat, trying to hide his discomfort, but his mind was still on last night. On Eleanor. On the way she'd felt in his arms, the delicate lace, and the way she had given herself to him so completely.

It was a difficult feeling to shake, but there was something else stirring in him now. Something that was less physical, though no less intense. He felt a protective urge, a fierce need to make sure no one would take her from him. She was his wife now, and that meant the world.

The breakfast was pleasant, but Theodore found himself distracted. His thoughts kept drifting back to last night, to Eleanor's beauty, to the lace set that had hidden beneath her wedding gown. He was unsure how much longer he could keep his composure when all he wanted to do was pull her away from the table and kiss her again, remind her who she belonged to.

He glanced over at his sister, who was watching him with amusement. She knew exactly why he was so silent this morning. Catherine was never one to hide her feelings or her knowledge, and she could tell exactly what was going on in his head.

"So, Theo," Catherine began innocently, her voice a little too sweet, "do you think Lady Kensington will be able to adjust to her new life here as Lady Islington?" She deliberately used Eleanor’s old title, her eyes flicking toward her brother in a way that made Theodore feel like he had been caught in some unspoken trap.

Theo blinked, momentarily caught off guard. His thoughts were so far removed from the breakfast table and the light conversation, he hadn't realized he had spoken without thinking.

He leaned forward slightly, his gaze steady. "Lady Kensington," he said, his voice almost a whisper, "I mean, Lady Islington..." He caught himself, his words trailing off. "I will have to get used to calling you by your new title."

Catherine's laughter, soft and knowing, echoed through the room, and Theodore shot her a warning glance. She was enjoying this far too much. But Eleanor, ever the composed lady, smiled politely, though a faint blush spread across her cheeks as she glanced at Theodore.

"From now on, you shall call me Lady Islington, Theo," Eleanor said, her voice calm, but her eyes betraying a glint of playfulness.

Catherine couldn't help but smile at the exchange, knowing exactly what was going on beneath the surface. She turned her attention to Eleanor, offering her a teasing wink. Eleanor blushed, quickly averting her gaze, but not before Catherine caught the change in her expression. Theodore’s sister was far too perceptive for her own good, and she was enjoying every minute of it.

Theo's hand, which had been resting on the table, suddenly found Eleanor's under the table. His fingers brushed against hers in a quiet, almost possessive gesture, and she looked up at him, her eyes locking with his. For a moment, the rest of the room seemed to fade away. Theodore’s thoughts returned once again to the lace, to last night, to the sweet, intimate moments they had shared.

"Are you quite well, Eleanor?" Catherine asked, her tone casual, but her eyes sharp as they observed the quiet exchange between the newlyweds.

Eleanor, still slightly flustered, nodded. "Yes, of course," she replied, trying to regain her composure. But the warmth spreading across her cheeks was unmistakable, and Theodore couldn’t help but feel a sense of pride at the effect he had on her.

The conversation continued, but Theodore's mind was elsewhere. He could still see the image of Eleanor in that lace, the way it had clung to her curves, the way she had surrendered herself to him. He knew it wasn’t just the physical connection that had made their wedding night so special. It was the unspoken bond, the promise of a future together.

As they moved on to talk about other matters, Theo's thoughts remained firmly on Eleanor. His wife. And as much as he tried to focus on the family around him, he couldn't escape the image of her, his Lady Islington, and the way she had completely captivated him.

And with that thought, a smile tugged at the corner of his lips. This was only the beginning.

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