“A summons?” she echoed.
“My aunt and uncle live in Brighton. Much to my aunt’s chagrin, my uncle always hosts a rather lavish house party over the summer. She is all but demanding our presence.”
She stiffened, almost imperceptibly. Almost. “You should go, of course. You mustn’t disappoint your aunt.”
He shook his head. “I couldn’t go alone. Besides, I have been meaning to introduce you to my aunt and uncle for some time. The Garveys. I’m sure I have mentioned them.”
“But the renovations on the guest wing have only just commenced. Right now is not—”
He had done his research and knew which cards to play, should it prove necessary. But for now, he tried with simple persuasion. “It is only for ten days. Surely you can be spared that long. A man likes to show off his wife now and again.”
She raised her eyes to his, the color of rich coffee. “I am needed here.”
“Not as much as I need you to accompany me.”
Tension crackled between them.
“Our bargain never included visits to one another’s families.” Insistence colored her tone.
“If you accompany me to my aunt’s house party, I’ll willingly visit your parents if you wish it.” He challenged her with his gaze.
“No!” she said fervently. “No. I have no interest in you accompanying me to visit my parents.”
“No? Perhaps not. But I think you’d very much like to travel abroad, to see the Continent. Paris, Berlin, Venice, Rome. Any three cities of your choosing. We could go in September, right as the weather begins to cool.”
The look on her face told Anslowe he’d gained the upper hand. Much as she tried to rein in her eagerness, it was etched in the brightness of her eyes, the anxious lines around her mouth.
“What do you think, Emmeline? A ten-day house party in exchange for several months abroad?” Though he knew her answer, he waited for her to voice it.
Emmeline straightened her back and smoothed her skirts. “I’ll inform Bridget to begin packing at once. When do we leave?”
Only a hard-won battle against his natural impulse kept a self-satisfied grin from turning up the corners of his mouth.
Chapter 4
Though the carriage ride had been uneventful, the torrent of thoughts assaulting Emmeline had been anything but. Lord Anslowe had struck up some conversation, yet a good portion of the four-hour journey had passed in silence. In the quiet moments as they jutted along over the road leading to Brighton, she could feel her husband’s eyes upon her: questioning, probing. His scrutiny caused a knot to form within her chest.
Emmeline could sense that something simmered beneath the surface of his casually positioned frame. There was certainly something more than a familial visit to his aunt that had motivated his desire to attend this house party, if only she knew what. He’d closed his eyes a few minutes before, so she seized the opportunity to take his measure without being found out.
Unlike her, who’d grown wrinkled and frumpy under the incessant bumping of the carriage, Lord Anslowe appeared unperturbed. His light brown hair fell in a careless wave across his forehead. His angled jaw held no tension, though his chin dipped down occasionally as the carriage jostled. That such a handsome man could be her husband was still difficult for Emmeline to fathom. Perhaps that was why she’d so recklessly agreed to his proposition yesterday. Nothing else could explain it.
Yesterday morning she’d been planning on picking out the final color scheme for the guest rooms and today she sat across from her husband, on her way to some lavish house party where she’d be forced into the uncomfortable company of gossipmongers and social climbers.
She’d been determined to refuse Lord Anslowe’s pleas, and might have succeeded, had he not offered the one thing she’d always longed for: travel. How could he possibly have known how badly she ached to see the quaint streets of Paris, the ancient sites of Italy, the castles of Germany? But even under the allure of the promise of faraway cities, Emmeline feared for her heart. She knew the danger of spending too much time with her husband. Even with their limited interactions, the array of flutters that assaulted her midsection every time he glanced at her, testified of her foolishness.
The man was a polished politician, whose charisma made him welcome in every circle in London. She was the daughter of a tradesman, who at best felt uncomfortable among the upper echelons of society. Indeed, the only reason Emmeline had caught Lord Anslowe’s attention was fortuitous timing and a sizeable dowry. It was irrational to even contemplate there being anything but spousal obligation between them. He hadn’t even batted an eye when she’d put off the matter of an heir.
Lord Anslowe’s eyes opened and he caught her staring. She blushed fiercely, grateful he couldn’t read her thoughts.
“We’re almost there,” he said. “Have you looked out the window?”
She scooted toward the window so she could get a glimpse of Brighton. Her eyes widened as she took in the sweeping hills and the shimmering water. “Oh!” For the first time since she’d agreed to accompany her husband, she thought there might be a part of this trip she’d enjoy.
“You’ve never been to Brighton, I take it?”
“I have traveled very little. Mama always thought it was a—” She shook her head, cutting off the thought. “Liverpool has beaches, but they certainly don’t look like this.” She glanced back at her husband. “You’re probably thinking it would be silly to take me abroad when I haven’t even seen most of England.”
“Not at all.” He smiled. “It is better to travel abroad before we start our family.”
Our family. She closed her eyes, willing away the blush rising on her cheeks. Time for a change in subject. “Do you have a favorite part of England?”
“Cornwall,” he returned easily. “There’s a wildness to the beaches there. And it isn’t fashionable like Brighton. It truly feels like an escape.”
“And what do you need to escape from?”
He shrugged. “Pressure, politics.”
“I thought you loved politics.”
“I did. I do. But sometimes…sometimes it doesn’t bring me the fulfillment it used to.” He gave a half smile, but it wasn’t the charming version he used in ballrooms and assemblies, it was a genuine one, with just a hint of sadness behind it. “I suppose that means I’m growing old.”
“You’re only thirty-one.”
“And you are twenty-two?”
She gave him a brief smile. “Next week.”
His brow wrinkled so she clarified. “I turn twenty-two next week.”
“Well, we will have to find some way to celebrate.” The way he said we filled her with warmth.
She nodded, still preoccupied with the thought of having this man–her husband–here by her side for the next ten days. If this was what it would feel like she could grow accustomed to it very quickly. Suddenly their bargain and the separate lives she’d forced them to live felt much less like a wall that kept her safe and much more like a wall that kept her out. Perhaps she’d been wrong to insist so adamantly on the hollow nature of their relationship.
“Here we are,” announced her husband. “Havencrest. Prepare yourself for my aunt’s ridiculousness.”
“And what of your uncle?”
“He is ridiculous in his own way. The two are constantly at odds.”
A small yearning rose in her, to learn about her husband, to understand him. What did she know of him, really? His aunt and uncle perhaps had an unhappy marriage, but what of his parents? She knew they had both been killed in a carriage accident when he was nineteen, but had it been a marriage of tolerance? A love match? Did he hope for such within their own marriage?
She swatted away the idea like a pesky fly. To entertain any thought of a romantic relationship between them was pure madness. The man dished out compliments as if they were as plentiful as cotton. He had more women in love with him than he owned cravats. Only a fool would give her heart to such a man. Even if
he was her husband.
The carriage rolled to a stop and the door swung open. A smartly dressed footman extended his hand and Emmeline took it, stepping down as she tried to gather her bearings. To label the house impressive was an aberrant understatement. And set against the splendor of Brighton’s cliffs, the house and its grounds created a breathtaking view. A friendly breeze that smelled of salt and seaweed wafted by.
Several other carriages deposited guests, and Emmeline’s stomach tightened, watching the display of wealth and finery that paraded up the stairs. She’d promised herself, once she left London behind, that she was finished with these types of events. Yet here she stood, once again, entirely out of her element.
Only this time it wasn’t her disapproving mother who accompanied her. Lord Anslowe came and stood by her side. He held out his arm and motioned at the stairs leading up to the house. “Shall we?”
Chapter 5
Anslowe felt the trembling of Emmeline’s hand as she slipped her arm into his. So unexpected, given how poised and self-assured she seemed at home. Yet her outward manner revealed not a hint of the unease he could sense within her.
They ascended the stairs where his aunt and uncle stood welcoming people in the entry hall. Aunt Garvey stood, her back straight, her thin frame attired in a dress that would have been fashionable two decades ago. Uncle Garvey stood at her side, his jovial demeanor the opposite of his wife in every way. Where she was thin, he was round. Her stern features were only emphasized by the smile lighting his face and the perpetual merriment in his eyes.
“I hope you didn’t stop to change your horses,” Aunt Garvey said by way of greeting. “Such an excess is rarely warranted.”
“Ah, we meet your bride at last!” said his uncle, ignoring his wife’s comment.
“This is my wife, Lady Anslowe,” he said. She curtsied as he bowed. “And Emmeline, may I introduce my uncle and aunt, Mr. and Mrs. Garvey.”
“Thank you for so generously inviting us to your house party.” Emmeline smiled, though her voice was hushed. “It is a pleasure to meet you both.”
Aunt Garvey’s eyes prowled over Emmeline, as if she might be able to ferret out the truth of the rumors she’d heard just by looking at her. “I’ve heard you are making repairs to Chelten House. I hope that is keeping you occupied.”
Emmeline nodded. “Well, yes. I also—”
Aunt Garvey cut her off. “I think it is wise for a woman to keep herself occupied so she isn’t tempted to become otherwise…engaged.”
Anslowe only just suppressed a groan. The last thing he needed was for his aunt to ask Emmeline outright about rumors of the affair. Emmeline turned questioning eyes on him, but Uncle Garvey saved them both from answering.
“She’s a shy little thing, isn’t she?” He set a hand in his pocket. “But what a pretty smile. You’ll warm up to us in no time. We’ve got a good deal of fun planned, I assure you. And Mrs. Daw will show you to your rooms.”
Aunt Garvey gestured for them to go ahead. “Tea is being served in the drawing room if you need something to tide you over.”
Anslowe knew the tea would be watery and the fare nonexistent. He shook his head. “I believe we are more in need of rest than nourishment. Come Emmeline. Perhaps you can lie down for a while before dinner.” Her sigh of relief clearly expressed her feelings on the matter.
“I won’t be joining you tonight,” boomed his uncle, “as I’ve been summoned to join Prinny this evening. Accept my apologies in advance.”
Anslowe immediately wondered if he might be fortunate enough to gain Prinny’s ear long enough to make a case for his bill. “Of course.”
Aunt Garvey crooked a pointed finger at the two of them. “Dinner is at seven. Don’t be late. You know how I feel about people who aren’t punctual.”
“I am well aware, Aunt Garvey.” He fought back the smile at his aunt’s determined sharpness and guided Emmeline toward the waiting housekeeper, who welcomed them energetically.
“My lord, what a delight. I haven’t seen you in an age! And now here you are, married, I see. It is a pleasure to have you and Lady Anslowe here at Havencrest.”
“I thank you, Mrs. Daw. Lady Anslowe has endured a long day of travel and I hope to get her settled so she might rest before dinner.”
“Yes, yes, of course. Follow me.” She guided them up the stairs and to the left, down one of the spacious guest wings. They passed several other guests, but Anslowe focused his attention on Emmeline. He hoped she hadn’t been too put off by Aunt Garvey.
“It’s a beautiful home,” Emmeline leaned toward him, whispering.
“Yes, and they have several others. Though this is my favorite. The windows make the place feel light and airy. The views are spectacular.”
“Here we are,” proclaimed Mrs. Daw in a sing-song tone. She pushed open the door, revealing a small but pleasant sitting room with a good-sized window that made it feel bigger than it was. “The party is so large not all the married couples were given separate rooms, but I believe Mrs. Garvey rather enjoyed ensuring her personal guests have the best accommodations.”
Relief flooded Anslowe. It was enough that Emmeline had agreed to attend the house party with him—he wasn’t sure how she would feel about being forced to share a bed during their stay.
“And just here I have some candles for you.” Mrs. Daw set two used candles on the table, neither more than the length of his forefinger. “I wish I could offer you more, but I gave you the best we have. You know Mrs. Garvey—she prides herself on being, er, rather economical, if you recall.”
“It hasn’t been that long since I’ve visited, Mrs. Daw,” he teased. “Never you fear. I had my valet pack enough extra candles, tea, and soap for the both of us.”
The woman touched a hand to her heart. “Thank goodness. I fear everyone else will be making numerous trips into town.” She turned to Emmeline who was studying the candles with a perplexed expression on her face. “Well, my lady. It is a pleasure. I hope you will not hesitate to ring if there is anything at all you need.”
Emmeline removed her bonnet, laying it on a small table adjacent to the sofa. “Of course. Thank you for all of your help, Mrs. Daw.”
The woman gave her a rosy-faced grin. “Of course, my lady.” Mrs. Daw turned away, her stout figure disappearing through the door. She shut it quietly behind her.
Silence blanketed in the room, the only sound the soft swish of Emmeline’s skirts as she approached the window. The silence was uncomfortable, filled with a strain that came from being in a shared space as husband and wife, when they had never truly lived that way.
Anslowe had never been one for silence, in society or in Parliament. He certainly wouldn’t be so in marriage. “Emmeline,” he began, then paused a moment.
She half turned, as if to show him she was listening.
“Thank you for being here with me.” He’d not given a great deal of thought as to what it would be like to have his wife on his arm as he navigated society, but he found he rather liked it.
Emmeline raised her head, pulling him from his musings. “It is nothing more than any wife would do, my lord.”
“Perhaps not one who detests society as much as you seem to.”
She fully turned then, eyes wide with surprise. “I’m sorry it is so evident.”
“It isn’t. But why do you hate it so much?”
She fingered the small locket at her throat, her deep brown eyes searching him. “I…I had three seasons. All were painful. I believe most young girls think of it as a time of excitement. Balls and dresses and the attention of fawning gentlemen.”
He nodded slightly to acknowledge her point.
“For me every ball was an endless round of lecturing from Mama about how to act, what to say, how everything I did was wrong. She criticized my dresses, my posture, my skin tone, my smile.” She threw up her hands, her frustration obviously still fresh. “I was never flirtatious enough. I never caught the eye of the right gentlemen.”
She made no effort to hide her scoff. “I only truly claimed your attention once I told you of my dowry.”
What exactly could he say to that? Emmeline possessed a subtle beauty, not the kind that sparkled in a ballroom, but one that grew with an understanding of her wit, her kindness, her curiosity. Yet if he said as much she would not take it in the complimentary way he intended.
His stateman’s mind sorted through possibilities, wanting to ease the sting of past slights. “If she made you feel anything less than beautiful she was—is—a fool. I consider myself fortunate to have secured such an attractive wife. And you can believe me, for I have no obligation to say such things now that your dowry is being used to rebuild Chelten House.”
Her dark eyes swirled with doubt. “If you’ll excuse me, Lord Anslowe, I am tired from the journey. I think I shall rest before dinner.”
He wished she hadn’t retreated from their conversation. It was the most personal exchange they’d shared in a year of marriage, and he found he craved more. He bowed his head in acknowledgement. “I’ll send someone up to press your things before dinner.”
She turned to go.
“Perhaps you’ll find you enjoy social settings more as a married woman,” he found himself saying.
She straightened but didn’t fully look him in the eye. “Perhaps.”
Chapter 6
Emmeline forced her eyes open, blinking against the sunshine streaming through the expansive windows. For a moment she considered barricading herself under the covers. Would Lord Anslowe even notice her absence? No one else would, she was certain.
The headache she’d acquired during dinner last night continued to throb against her temples, as persistent as the waves pounding down at the beach. She was unaccustomed to fashionable hours and the thought of another week’s worth of late nights, trivial conversation, and inedible food made Emmeline doubt her wisdom in agreeing to come. If she didn’t wish to go abroad so badly she would call for the carriage to take her home this very moment.
The Marriage Bargain Page 3