Peering up with her, he nodded.
"Yes, perhaps some reading might calm me." ANd rising from the bed, he offered her his hand before pulling her out of it to stand beside him. There, he moved to pull on his pants and a robe, before moving towards the back of his room to the door. There, he opened the door to his private study, and waited for his wife to join him as he lit up an oil lamp, then stepped into the room.
The yellow light from his lamp stretched rather far, and caused long shadows from the steep book shelves to stretch across the ceiling like wicked fangs. In the center was a cozy set of leather chairs, a settee, a wine chest, and a few desks with neat piles of paper resting ontop, and a few ink wells left opened, and their feather pens, on the table, and a few, now on the floor.
"Feel free to look around." For before, he never truly let anyone else in there with him. It was his private space, after all, but now.. he was actually allowing her inside with him- so she might not know all fo the intimate space and calming air it provided.
He, on the other hand, moved away from her towards a nearby shelf that was attached tot he same wall as his room. He began to let his eyes read across it, searching for something, perhaps a light read, to distract him from his still rapidly beating heart.