So here she was, one week away from marrying William and feeling none of the excited anticipation one might expect in a young lady on the verge of matrimony. All she could think of, when she was not strenuously keeping herself occupied, was Drew Castlemain and the way it had felt to be in his arms, exchanging kisses. Just the thought of it sent the searing, heart-stopping excitement running through her again, hot desire tearing at her insides and such an ache of longing in her heart she almost groaned aloud. She could not believe it had meant so little to him, that he had not felt the connection between them. How might it have been if he had known of his pardon earlier? Would he have treated her differently, perhaps even considered making her an offer?
She turned away from the window, wrapping her arms about her as if to ward off a sudden chill. Now she was deceiving herself. He did not care for her, did not desire her, save fleetingly, as an object of lust. She must be thankful he had not seduced her thoroughly. He had told her as much. But he had just as thoroughly ruined her, since she could not forget him.
There was a knock on the door and the maid appointed to wait upon her entered the room.
‘Oh, I beg yer pardon, mistress, I thought the family had all gone out and I come up to tidy the room...’
‘Come in, Hetty, I am leaving now.’
She glanced in the long mirror for a final check upon her appearance. Lady Whittlewood had taken great pains to provide Elyse with dozens of new clothes, all suitable for a young lady in mourning and the one she had chosen today was no exception, a pewter-grey silk morning gown with black lace trim. Elyse had decided not to add the fashionable black apron but she had placed a straw bonnet with new black ribbons over her lace cap. Her only ornament was the diamond ring William had given her to mark their betrothal. All very sober, nothing to give the Bath quizzes cause to gossip.
William was waiting for her when she came downstairs.
‘So there you are. My mother is gone with Papa to the Pump Room and I waited behind to escort you. Shall we go?’
Elyse smiled and took his proffered arm. Apart from that one kiss soon after her arrival he was treating her like a guest rather than a fiancée. She tried to be charitable. It was only to be expected since they had not seen each other for three years. Despite their letters they were a little shy of one another.
The rain had stopped but the air was cold and damp. The overcast sky would lower anyone’s spirits, Elyse decided. After all, what had she to be gloomy about? Her future was secure, as Mrs William Reverson she would be a woman of substance and standing, married to the man she had dreamed of since she was seventeen.
Elyse stole a peep up at William as they strolled along Bath’s busy pavements to the Pump Room. She had thought him the most handsome man of her acquaintance when they had met and now, at one-and-twenty, his classical looks were even more striking. His fair colouring was evident despite his powdered wig, the pale brows and lashes only accentuating his liquid-brown eyes. So why, when he turned his head to smile at her, did she think him less attractive? Was it that she had recently conceived a penchant for darker hair and blue, blue eyes?
No! She must not even think of that.
‘You are very pensive,’ said William. ‘Is anything the matter?’
‘No, no, of course not.’ Her doubts resurfaced. ‘Only, are you sure you want to marry me, William?’
‘Nothing I would like more,’ he replied promptly. ‘It is all agreed, is it not? My father says he will let us have one of his properties, a snug little house in Berkshire where we may set up our nursery.’ He squeezed her hand, where it rested on his sleeve. ‘A few more days and we will be man and wife. I cannot wait to have you to myself.’
Elyse remembered the delicious thrill of excitement she had felt when he had whispered such things to her in Scarborough. He had even stolen a kiss, which she had thought the most wonderful, daring and exciting thing in the world, but the kiss he had recently bestowed upon her in the morning room had left her strangely unmoved and now the thought of William taking her in his arms, of kissing her passionately, touching her the way Drew had done, made her shudder. Mistaking her reaction William laughed.
‘You are eager for it, too, I know, but we must be patient. It would not do to behave with any hint of impropriety while we are living under my father’s roof.’
‘No, of course not.’
But once they were married, what then? she wondered. She could only pray that she would learn to love him again.
* * *
The week passed slowly but inexorably and Elyse tried to feel something other than growing apprehension for the approaching nuptials. She kept her anxiety hidden from her hosts and presented a cheerful smiling countenance whenever she was in company. Nothing could have exceeded Lord and Lady Whittlewood’s kindness to her. She might not be the bride they would have chosen for their son but they had accepted the inevitable with a good grace and Elyse was grateful. For her it was a splendid match, arranged by Papa to secure her future comfort and it was churlish of her to want anything different. Churlish and futile, she scolded herself. Drew might be a free man now but he was lost to her. He did not love her and he was a rake: even if by some miracle she could marry him it would not work, his amours and intrigues could only result in repeated heartbreak for her.
* * *
Elyse was thankful her days were so busy. Her arrival in Queen Square without any luggage had scandalised Lady Whittlewood, who had hurriedly procured a few new gowns for her and taken her on numerous shopping trips to provide her with everything she would need for her new life as the Honourable Mrs William Reverson. Parcels arrived every day containing dresses, shoes, hats and myriad other items the viscountess considered essential for a lady’s wardrobe. In addition to this Elyse threw herself energetically into all the arrangements for the marriage, as well as the party that had been arranged for the evening before the wedding.
Because Elyse was still in mourning for her father the marriage must be a very private affair. Only close family were to be present, and in Elyse’s case even that was impossible since her only relative, Aunt Matthews, was still laid up with her broken arm. Aware that she would have no one to support her, the kindly viscountess had suggested that Mr Andrew Castlemain should be invited to the ceremony, but Lord Whittlewood had firmly but gently counselled against it.
‘He may be a very fine young man and of course he is pardoned now,’ he said. ‘But the fact is he has been masquerading under a false name. Also his connections with the Jacobite cause are not something we should be seen to condone too much.’
‘That may be so,’ replied Lady Whittlewood with unaccustomed firmness, ‘but he was Elyse’s guardian and the poor young man’s role in bringing her to us must be recognised.’
‘Then you must content yourself with the fact that you have invited him to your party, my dear. Such a distinction will do much to reinstate him in the polite world.’
Elyse found herself remembering those words as she took a leisurely breakfast on the morning of the party. She had hoped Drew would not come, but when she had been helping Lady Whittlewood with her correspondence she had seen the letter from Hartcombe. ‘My esteemed father is unable to attend,’ it read, but any hopes that Drew might also stay away were dashed by the following line, a brief acceptance written in a bold, firm hand. Just the sight of Drew’s name, written with a flourish at the bottom of the page, had caused her heart to thud erratically. Dear heaven how was she to face him again, knowing how much she still cared for him?
It would be best, she decided, if William could remain at her side this evening. Surely he would think it very natural that she should want his support. She would tell him she was nervous at the thought of being introduced to so many new people. It was not true, of course. She was naturally gregarious and relished such events, but she knew it would not be wise to confess to William that there
was only one gentleman invited that evening whom she did not wish to meet.
With that problem resolved Elyse dressed quickly and made her way downstairs. She had left her reading book in the morning room last night and thought she should retrieve it before some eager servant tidied it away. She entered the room with her usual briskness to find William standing in the middle of the room with his arms around the second housemaid.
They jumped apart when Elyse came in but not before she had seen them kissing. The doubts and indecision, the sympathy Elyse had felt for William when she thought that she might be deceiving him, all were washed away by the huge wave of anger that surged through her. She stepped to one side to allow the maid to scurry away, her cheeks scarlet with mortification. Then with silent deliberation Elyse closed the door.
‘Is this a foretaste of what I am to expect as your wife?’
William shot her a resentful glance from beneath lowered brows. He looked very much like an errant schoolboy.
‘It was merely a little dalliance. There is not so very much wrong with that.’
‘Dalliance,’ she repeated with a scornful curl of her lip. ‘On the eve of our wedding?’
‘Come along, Elyse, you must see that it was nothing more than a harmless little kiss.’
Elyse was outraged. ‘Your actions could result in that servant being turned off without a character.’
‘Not unless you tell Mama what has occurred here.’ He drew himself up. ‘I am a man, Elyse, and I have needs. Since I cannot have you I must find solace elsewhere.’
‘You could not wait one more day?’ She took a long deep breath, trying to control her temper. ‘When we were apart, then mayhap there was some excuse, but not here, now—’
He scowled at her.
‘You can have no reason to complain of my treatment of you. I have put myself out to dance attendance upon you ever since you arrived in Bath.’
‘I thought you wished to do so.’
‘Naturally I do not want to be thought backward in my attentions to my future wife.’
‘You make it sound like an onerous duty.’
‘Well, so it is.’
Her chin went up and she said frostily, ‘No one is forcing you to marry me.’
‘Of course they are!’ he flashed back at her. ‘Do you think I would be marrying you if it wasn’t for that damned wager...’
His words trailed off and in the deep silence that followed he gazed uncertainly at Elyse. She suddenly felt a little dizzy and sank down on the nearest sofa.
‘Wager? What do you mean?’
He flung himself down into a chair opposite and dropped his head in his hands. She said with quiet firmness, ‘The truth, William, if you please.’
‘It was when we met, three years ago in Scarborough.’
‘I remember. You asked me to marry you.’
He shrugged.
‘While we were dancing at the assemblies our fathers were engaged in games of chance. My father had lost a great deal of money to yours. Twenty thousand pounds.’
‘Twenty thousand!’
‘Such sums are regularly won and lost.’
Elyse paled. ‘Oh, heavens. I had heard that gambling was rife in London and Bath, but I never dreamed that such a thing could happen in Scarborough.’
‘Why not? It is a spa town and wherever the rich gather they need their amusements. Papa told me Salforde was willing to offset the debt in a marriage settlement. I was young, and you were very engaging,’ William shrugged. ‘It seemed an excellent solution.’
‘Papa told me nothing of this.’
‘Why should he? You were only seventeen.’
‘As were you!’
‘But you are a female, and could not be expected to understand such matters.’
‘Instead I was allowed to think you were in love with me.’
‘And I was, at first. You know it was agreed we should not marry until I had come of age. There seemed plenty of time to enjoy myself before I had to settle down. Then, this spring, your father wrote to Papa to set a date and I realised it was not what I wanted at all, only by then it was too late. If I cried off the debt would have to be paid. Immediately and in full.’ He frowned. ‘Our estates are not in good heart. Most of them are mortgaged to the hilt and any excess revenue is eaten up in living as we do.’ He gave her a petulant look, as if anticipating her next remark. ‘Such expenditure is necessary for someone as prominent as my father. Then there was all the expense of Daphne’s wedding to Berwick last year. Father could not possibly pay you the twenty thousand pounds to prevent our marriage. He called in his lawyer to go over the agreement again but there was no way out, save one, faint possibility. Papa wrote to insist that you join the family by Michaelmas or forfeit the contract. Then he removed us all to Bath, hoping you might not follow.’
‘And the attack upon our carriage?’
‘I swear my father had no hand in that.’
Elyse clasped her hands together in her lap. She had been waiting to announce to William and his family that she had a small fortune of her own now. Tomorrow when she became Mrs William Reverson it would become her husband’s property. She had thought it would be a delightful surprise for him. Now it paled into insignificance against the debt her marriage would write off. She said slowly, ‘So we are to marry, to save your family from ruin and disgrace.’
‘Yes.’ William rose from his chair. ‘We shall just have to make the best of it.’
She made no attempt to stop him as he left the room and when the door clicked shut she remained in her chair while the silence settled around her like a heavy cloak.
So William did not love her. The revelation following so closely upon Drew’s rejection made her wonder if she was too romantic in her notions. Perhaps the love she had read of in books did not exist. Or perhaps it was exceedingly rare.
Elyse sighed and pushed away such dismal thoughts. She had so much to be thankful for. She and William might not be in love but many marriages began with no more than liking and were perfectly happy. There was no reason why theirs should not be so.
* * *
She heard the sounds of an arrival and peeped out to hear the butler’s sonorous voice welcoming The Honourable Mr and Mrs Reverson to the house. So William’s brother had arrived. She remembered that his sister and her husband were also expected, but she was in no mood to meet anyone just yet and slipped away to her own room, where she remained until dinnertime.
* * *
When Elyse entered the drawing room she found all the family gathered there. Introductions were performed and everyone greeted her civilly, but from the lack of interest they showed in her circumstances she inferred that they all knew about the terms of the marriage, and she was consequently very subdued as they went into dinner.
Chapter Eleven
‘Well, my dear, are you ready to meet the cream of Bath society?’
‘I am, my lady.’
Elyse was standing between the viscountess and William at the top of the staircase. She was very conscious of her grey silk, its neckline decorously filled with a white fichu, a stark contrast to the sea of coloured gowns milling below them as the first of the guests prepared to mount the stairs to the reception rooms. She smiled politely as she was presented to Lord This and Lady That, made her bow to an earl and his countess. Some of the guests she had met before when she had been out with William, but most were strangers and she tried to ignore the speculation their eyes, the whispered questions about her birth, her fortune and how had she managed to make such a splendid alliance. In the noise and confusion of the arrivals she heard Lady Whittlewood’s laughing response to one matron’s assertion that Miss Salforde was a very pretty young lady but quite unknown.
‘Oh, she is from the north, dear ma’am, but perfectly respectable.
William was quite smitten from the first, and since Henry already has two sturdy boys to follow him the succession is secure. So who are we to stand in the way of love?’
* * *
And so it went on, lords, baronets and gentlemen, dowagers and ladies. It seemed to Elyse that the whole of Bath was present in the viscount’s rooms but there was one exception, the one person she longed to see, the one she most dreaded meeting. Then he was there in the hall below her, handing his hat and cloak to the footman. Her heart lurched. He looked so tall and elegant in his new coat of blue Genoa velvet with the silver buttons. He was shaking out his ruffles, climbing the steps towards her, looking straight ahead, never glancing up.
‘Mr Castlemain. I am delighted you could come, sir.’
Lady Whittlewood held out her hand and Elyse watched as he bowed over it with exquisite grace. He was one of the few men to wear his own hair, long and confined at the nape of his neck by a black ribbon, but the thick, unpowdered mane glowed like dark honey in the candlelight, proclaiming the health and vigour of the man. Elyse clenched her hands around the stem of her fan. She remembered driving her fingers through those same silky locks, clinging on as Drew’s mouth worked unspeakable delights on her body. She had been right to dread seeing him again.
‘Miss Salforde.’
His voice, deep and smooth as velvet, recalled her attention. He was standing before her, tall, broad-shouldered, achingly desirable but he could not be hers. Never hers. He was a rake, he stole hearts for a pastime. Angrily she drew herself up, gave him a haughty look and kept her hands firmly wrapped around the fan. She would not extend her fingers for him to kiss. Their eyes locked and she hoped her gaze conveyed the haughty disdain she wanted him to see and not the searing pain of her breaking heart. His showed nothing more than light amusement.
Harlequin Historical September 2014 - Bundle 1 of 2: The Lone SheriffThe Gentleman RogueNever Trust a Rebel Page 64