Beneath Spring's Rain (Ashton Brides Book 1)

by Rebecca J. Greenwood

  “I gave you the first quarters allowance, and you throw it into my face, using it to marry the most inappropriate, most unsuitable, most ruined girl in all of London! The tales I’ve heard of her! Worse than a common light-skirt.”

  “They are lies.”

  “And you know this how? The girl told you, eh? And you believed her?”

  “Yes. And I have plenty of evidence—”

  “She’s blinded you.”

  “I do not believe so, but it does not matter. I am going to marry her tomorrow.” Daniel clasped his hands behind him, ignoring the twinge of still-stiff muscles, and raised his chin. “Sir. I was most grateful for your kind offer of the allowance and inheritance. As I find myself unable to comply with the terms of the settlement, you are, of course, within your rights to retract the offer and grant it to another, or to none, as is your pleasure.”

  “You’d better believe—” Uncle Harlow shook his fist.

  “Ah, are you my Uncle Harlow?”

  Both men looked up as a too-chipper feminine voice interrupted. It was Florentia, smiling brightly, and walking in quickly. “It is so wonderful to meet you. You are up from Brighton?”

  Harlow looked discomposed and stepped back.

  “My sister, Lady Florentia.” Daniel made introductions.

  Harlow stared at Florentia, cleared his throat. “Niece. Lady Florentia. You have quite the look of your mother.”

  Florentia smiled even wider, her eyes brightening in a way that showed threatening tears. She stepped closer to Harlow and clasped her hands over her heart. “Oh, I would love to hear stories of her from you. Of your childhood together. She died so soon after I was born. I know so little.” She looked hopeful.

  Harlow shifted. “Well, I suppose, yes, there are a few stories I could share. We were close in age.” He wiped his forehead with a large handkerchief. He glanced between Florentia and Daniel. “At a later time.” He grew stern again, tipped his head back. “I’m here to speak with your wayward brother.”

  “Oh, he’s not too wayward, I hope—”

  Eliza appeared in the doorway behind Florentia, her eyes wide. Daniel’s heart stuck in his throat. He tried to shake his head discreetly, telling her not to come in, but Uncle’s voice boomed out, “And who is this?”

  Daniel flinched. Florentia plunged ahead. “This is my soon-to-be new sister, Lord Daniel’s fiancée, Eliza Moore.”

  Uncle Harlow’s ruddy face darkened further. He turned on Daniel. “You let your impressionable sister spend time with her?”

  “Of course!” Florentia answered for herself. “Don’t tell me you believe the foul things they are saying, Uncle?”

  “They are lies,” Daniel stated again. He held out his hand to Eliza. She hesitated, but came into the room, and stood beside him, her back stiff and neck straight. Her jaw was tight. He put his hand at the small of her back and drew her closer.

  Uncle eyed them with a scowl. “And how is society responding, nephew?” He stepped back and folded his arms over his chest. “Are your stepmother and young sister still getting invitations since your fiancée has taken up residence in this house? Have your sister’s vouchers to Almack’s been revoked? I know how English society works, neffy, and they’re little interested in truth if they may be affected by an association.”

  Florentia wrung her hands. Daniel frowned in concern. “Florentia, have your vouchers been revoked?”

  She shifted on her feet and looked down. “We haven’t tried for vouchers for this week . . . but, well, a few invitations have been rescinded.”

  The tension in Daniel’s body ratcheted tighter.

  “But we aren’t interested in attending events with those who believe vicious gossip.” Florentia turned up her nose.

  Eliza’s face grayed, the corners of her lips turned down. She stood stiffly, kept her head up, but her breathing was rapid.

  Daniel took her hand in his. She avoided his gaze, her jaw tight.

  “I’m sorry this is impinging on your Season, Florentia. But once we are wed, this will soon blow over.”

  Uncle turned from them and started pacing again. “Where is the marchioness? She stands aside and accepts this travesty?” He gestured wildly, his voice loud. “Where is the marquess? What does he say on the matter?”

  “I say that he is a grown man.” The chill tones of Daniel’s elder brother’s voice pierced through the tension in the room. Frederick appeared at the doorway. He entered, his gaze cold on their uncle and his stance imperious. “And he has given his word.”

  Daniel’s heart took strength from his brother’s defense.

  “Ah, you’re the marquess now, eh?” Uncle gave Frederick an insolent once-over.

  “Yes, and you are our mother’s long-unseen younger brother, I suppose.”

  “You’re supporting him in this?” Uncle scowled, pointed at Daniel with a thick finger.

  “I am not opposed.” Frederick’s eyes were narrow, and his voice was deep and calm, a snow-covered mountain to Uncle’s fiery glares.

  Uncle stalked the length of the room, turned. “Can we not pay her to go away? Is that not what the great families do in situations such as this?” His voice was bitter.

  Daniel bristled. “No, I—”

  “Are you offering?” Frederick said.

  Daniel turned to him with alarm. “Frederick, you can’t possibly—”

  Frederick waved a calming gesture, and Daniel clamped his jaw shut with frustration. Eliza was a pillar of stone beside him, her hand stiff in his.

  Uncle stared at Daniel and Eliza, scowling, and appeared to consider it.

  “No,” he bit out and turned from them. “I can use my money elsewhere, where it is wanted and where my opinion is valued.”

  “I’m afraid I do not have the ready cash to pay off unfortunate young women,” Frederick commented, his voice full of unconcern. “I suppose my brother will have to keep his word and marry the lady.”

  “Lady?” Harlow scoffed.

  “The lady is in the room, Uncle.” Daniel let his outrage color his voice, but kept tight control over himself. “And I do not want money for such an insult. This marriage is to protect Eliza, and allow her to come back to her proper place in society, not to bury her in the country somewhere, friendless and alone.”

  Eliza wrenched her hand from his, and stepped away from him, her eyes darting, her breaths quick. “This is folly! Pure folly.” Her voice broke. Her arms went around herself, her back turned. “If you will excuse me, I will get my things and leave.” She started to walk away.

  Daniel hurried over to her, took her upper arms in his hands. “No, Eliza, no—”

  “Finally.” Uncle turned. “A word of sense in this group. And from the woman herself.”

  “Uncle, stop.” Daniel rounded on him, standing between Eliza and their adversary. “This is well and enough. I am marrying Eliza because I love her. Because of that love, I value her happiness and well-being over my own. I count it an honor to improve her circumstances in life. If you do not understand love—if you have never given unselfishly for another’s well being—then I am sorry for you. But these insults to my fiancée shall end immediately.”

  Uncle Harlow’s mouth fell open at Daniel’s outburst and his arms loosened at his sides, his eyes wide.

  Daniel breathed heavily in the sudden silence in the room.

  Uncle’s face closed, his brows and lips turned down.

  Daniel blew out a breath and opened his hands. “Thank you for what you have done for me and were willing to do for me, Uncle. If you wish, I will pay back the first quarter’s allowance I received.” His mind caught on all that he had spent and would still need to spend, and his cheeks grew warm. “Though I do ask for time to get my funds in order. Unless you would like to treat it as a loan, and I can pay back with interest . . ..”

  “Don’t bother.” Uncle’s voice was gruff. “That much is yours, given before your ill choice, flying in the face of all wisdom and convention. But do not e
xpect more. You won’t get it.” He thrust out his chin.

  “I understand.” Daniel inclined his head.

  Uncle’s eyes focused behind Daniel, and Daniel turned, half-afraid Eliza had run from the room.

  Frederick stood before the entrance, preventing her from fleeing. She faced the wall, arms wrapped around herself. He went and stood behind her, willing her to turn to him.

  “You claim unselfish love, young man.” Uncle’s voice was calm, colder than Daniel had yet heard it. “But have you had a single thought to how this will affect your family?”

  Eliza’s back curved even further into herself. Daniel’s eyes closed, his heart clenched in his chest.

  “I dare say Florentia’s Season will suffer, but otherwise, we’ve weathered worse scandals. The family will survive.” His brother Frederick’s voice pierced the painful worry and regret that had engulfed Daniel. His dry tone was a balm to Daniel’s soul.

  “Oh, don’t worry about me!” Florentia’s voice was too bright. “If they won’t like my new sister, then they won’t like me, that’s just how it is.” Florentia flashed Daniel a bright, brave smile.

  Daniel’s heart swelled with affection for both his siblings, an answering smile pulling on his lips.

  A huff of scorn was Uncle’s answer. “Then you all are resolved, I see. And you, woman, will they keep you here with their unselfishness?”

  Eliza straightened and turned. Her face was pale, her eyes bloodshot, but dry. She did not look at Daniel, but raised her head, and turned her gaze on Uncle. She looked him in the eye, regal as a queen, and said nothing.

  Oh, how Daniel loved this woman.

  A growl of frustration from Uncle had Daniel turning back to him, keeping Eliza behind him.

  Uncle Harlow’s gaze darted between Daniel and Eliza, his face hard. He clenched his fists and scowled. “Very well then. I have nothing more to say. Good day to you.”

  He strode past them all to the door. Frederick stepped away from it with a cold look at their uncle.

  Before Harlow was out of earshot, Daniel called, “The wedding is tomorrow, Uncle. You are welcome to stay for it. We would be happy—”

  Uncle scoffed. “I will not stay for this travesty.”

  “Very well, sir. A good day to you.”

  Uncle stalked away, and the sounds of the front door opening and slamming shut soon reached them.

  The tension drained out of Daniel in a wave, and he let out a breath of exhaustion.

  “That’s done then,” Frederick commented.

  “Yes, quite done. Easily gained, easily lost.” Daniel waved a hand. He would not regret the loss of the money. He would not.

  Eliza swayed beside him.

  He put his hand on her arm. “I’m so sorry you were subjected to that horrible scene. Darling, I—”

  Eliza wrenched herself from him with a choking sound and rushed from the room.

  * * *

  Eliza ran blindly up the stairs, her skirts in her fists. She ignored Daniel’s concerned voice calling after her. She reached her assigned room, entered, and pushed the door hard behind her.

  It made only a dull thud. She whirled around. Daniel held the door open, his breaths rapid, concern on his face.

  He pushed forward, she stepped back, and he shut the door behind him.

  She struggled to keep in a sob.

  “Eliza, love.”

  “No, no, this is too much, Daniel. I need to go, go far away. Your uncle is right. I cannot let you do this. I should not let you do this. I hurt your family, I hurt your prospects . . .”

  She shook, her fingers quivering, a strange, miserable vibration.

  “I am nothing but a harm and a hindrance.” Her bottom lip trembled. She pressed her lips together to stop the movement. Her stomach was a knot of tense misery.

  He took her clasped hands into his and rubbed his warm palms over her cold fingers. Bandages wrapped his knuckles, but his hands were large and solid, full of steadying strength. He kissed her chilled hands, and put an arm around her, pulled her into him. He pressed his lips to her forehead, lingering. She breathed deeply of him: bay rum, spice, and man. She closed her eyes and relaxed an inch or two. His strong arms were there to catch her.

  “How can you do this? You are giving up too much for me.”

  “All I give up, I count worthy the cost.”

  “It’s too much.”

  “Please, accept it. Accept me. For I accept you, with every fiber of my being.”

  It ripped her up inside, but she didn’t seem able to pull together the will to push him away, to run, to save him. Because it would be the destruction of herself.

  How selfish she felt.

  But this, this . . . affection. She had not had such in so long . . . it was filling her with the craving, with the need, never to be without it.

  She felt out of sorts and needy. She hated that. She did not want to need. She wished for self-sufficiency!

  But every time he touched her, her soul leaned into him further, relied on him, needed him.

  This was not healthy. She must stop this.

  She pulled herself from his arms. She retrieved her handkerchief and dabbed at her eyes. “Thank you. I will strive to be a wife worthy of your sacrifice.”

  He opened his mouth, closed it. “I have no concerns on that regard.”

  Chapter 23

  Daniel stood with military attention at the front of Curzon Chapel, the vicar standing at the ready near him.

  Everything in Daniel wanted to move, to pace with the excitement and nerves that coursed through him. He’d been up since 4 a.m. with Thomas and the servants to ensure everything was in place for the wedding.

  All was in motion. He could do nothing now but wait.

  He scanned the gathered witnesses. The crowd was small. Only the few of his family who were in town were able to attend. The rush of the wedding did not allow time for his elder sister Cassandra to come with his younger half-siblings Matthew and Mariah or Frederick’s young daughter Caroline. He regretted their absence, but haste was necessary.

  A few of his officer friends were here, and a group of women he vaguely recognized from the Magdalen Hospital. He was glad some of Eliza’s friends could be here to support her. He’d send Thomas to ensure they were invited to the wedding breakfast. It didn’t matter if his stepmother raised her brows. It was his wedding breakfast, and Eliza was his bride.

  He scanned the entrance to the chapel. Worry nagged at him that she wouldn’t come, that she would rather run away than marry him. He pushed the itching thought away and another arose—that Crewkerne would try to kidnap her again. Was she safe?

  Daniel found himself squeezing his sword hilt with one hand and tapping his leg with the other.

  Florentia and the marchioness came down the aisle, his sister almost bouncing with a smile on her face, and his stepmother serene. They took their seats. They would have just left Eliza’s side, so all must be well. Frederick must be with her now, ready to escort her down the aisle. Daniel told himself to calm down.

  The tall figure of his brother came into view first, then the shorter figure of the veiled woman at his arm.

  There she was. His breath caught. Daniel drank in the sight of her, his heart pounding inside his chest, the rhythm increasing with each step she took toward him.

  The veil over her face obscured her features, but he would always be able to recognize Eliza by her perfect comportment and graceful walk. She wore frothy white, the skirt kicking out in front of her with each step. It was another of Florentia’s hastily altered gowns. He had plundered his sister’s wardrobe for his bride. He would have to make it up to Florentia later.

  They reached him. Frederick transferred her hands to Daniel’s. Her slender fingers were small and graceful in his large, clumsy ones. Their hands were bare. Her fingers were chill. He wrapped his hands around hers. He would warm them.

  When directed, he lifted the veil and caught his breath at the sight of his beautiful
bride. Awe and gratitude flooded through him. His most impossible dream was coming true.

  Her gaze was downcast. The veil of her lashes flicked up, and her dark eyes focused on his.

  She was exquisite. He wasn’t worthy—just a poor soldier—but oh, she needed him, and he would lay all he had and was at her feet. He would take her unto himself.

  The scent of white peonies and sweet violets floated from the flowers wreathing her bonnet and arranged in her wedding bouquet.

  Her cheeks were far too pale, but under his gaze, they flushed a beautiful rose.

  The familiar words of the Book of Common Prayer’s vows had never meant more to him, and he said with his whole heart, “I will.”

  To have, to hold, for better for worse. To love and cherish.

  The cleric prompted Eliza for her answering vows. She hesitated.

  He gave her an encouraging smile.

  She spoke softly. Her mouth twisted on “for richer for poorer.” She stumbled over the phrase “and to obey.”

  But when she said, “Thereto I give thee my troth,” her voice grew stronger. She ended with firmness and a decided nod.

  He let out a breath of relief.

  He slipped the ring onto her fourth finger and held it there.

  “With this ring I thee wed, with my body I thee worship, and with all my worldly goods I thee endow.”

  Determination filled him. He would cherish her, be all and whatever she needed.

  The vicar directed them to kneel. The clergyman spoke psalms over them, but his words became a blur in the steady thrum of blood in Daniel’s ears.

  “I pronounce that they be Man and Wife together, In the Name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost. Amen.”

  At last, it was done.

  A stillness overtook his limbs. The fear and worry, the anticipation, all calmed. She was his wife. Whatever happened from this point, he could scarcely imagine, but this, he knew with every part of him, was right.

  * * *

  “May I present to you Lord and Lady Daniel Ashton,” the vicar announced.

  There. Eliza was no longer herself. She was Lady Daniel Ashton.

  Eliza felt herself being drawn down the aisle once again, her body numb.