Jean slipped out of their bed, leaving Lucien sprawled on his tummy, gentle snores signaling his deep sleep. Cocking her head, she listened. At the other end of the house, the kitchen tap's familiar screech and gurgle echoing across the silent house.
She flushed. Not so quiet a quarter hour ago. Last night, as Lucien had deftly removed her nightdress, she'd reminded him that sound carried in this old house, and Matthew's bedroom was just over the hall. First night back from their honeymoon; they weren't in an anonymous hotel room or the ocean liner's stateroom. He'd tried...then he'd caressed her there, her mouth touched there... Her cheeks flamed hotter. Perhaps she could suggest that Matthew take over Lucien's old room. More convenient to the phone and front door if he had a call-out, she thought virtuously.
After pulled on her dressing gown, she smoothed Lucien's ruffled hair. Neither that, or the distant kettle whistle, made him even miss a beat in his snores. That sound didn't bother her; it meant he slept well.
Closing the studio door behind her, Jean padded down the hall to the kitchen. She'd have a chat with Matthew right this moment, she decided, squaring her shoulders. They were all adults, after all—
She gave a sharp squeak.
"Good morning," Alice said calmly as she filled two teacups on a tray. She wore what was obviously a man's dressing gown.
"Good morning," Jean gasped.
Alice lifted the tray. "There's plenty of hot water left."
"Thank you," Jean murmured, not sure what else to say.
"Matthew's moved to Lucien's old room." Alice paused in the doorway. "He thought it would be for the best."
"Right."
"Bloody hell!" Lucien was the in hall, clutching his gown over his bare chest.
"Definitely for the best," Jean echoed.