His Jilted Bride (Historical Regency Romance)

by Rose Gordon

  She frowned. “I've seen Philip cry and I'm fairly certain he's not a molly, whatever that is.”

  “Was he ten years old and standing too close when his sibling swung their pall mall mallet, too?”

  “No. He lost his prized thoroughbred in a card game and when Mr. Maxwell came to collect his winnings, Philip—”

  “Please, stop, I pray you,” Elijah interjected, lifting his hand to halt her words. “I'm sure there was just a bit of stable dust in his eye.”

  “Ah, is that what you gentlemen call it?”

  “When we're genuinely tearing up, yes,” he said with a grimace. “But I have difficulty believing Philip cried about losing his horse. In that situation, I think he really did have something in his eyes.”

  “No, I'm fairly certain he was crying. It was his prized thoroughbred.”

  “Prized thoroughbred or not, no man cries about losing something. He might frown or scowl, but he doesn't cry.”

  “So when does a man cry?”

  “He doesn't,” Elijah burst out.

  “Ever?”

  “Ever.”

  “But what if he's hurt? Do his eyes not water?”

  “They might water, but he does not cry.”

  She twisted her lips and crossed her arms. “Is there a difference?”

  “Yes.”

  “I fail to see it,” she said, giving her head a slight shake. “Tears are tears.”

  “Then I suppose every time a man's eyes water when he yawns or sneezes you think he's crying?”

  “Well no,” she allowed. “But I'm certain Philip was crying when he lost his horse.”

  “If you say so,” he grumbled.

  “It's still pain, Elijah. It might not be the same kind of pain you felt when Henry hit you with the mallet, but I'm sure it hurt him all the same.”

  Elijah lifted his hands in defeat. “All right, you win.”

  “Ha! I knew it, men do cry.”

  “No, I was just acknowledging that Philip cried about his horse,” he teased.

  She laughed. “All right; but since you said I won, I demand you still allow me my boon.”

  “I wouldn't dream of denying it from you.”

  ***

  Not that he'd ever dreamed her boon would be so...so...infuriating, he amended as his jaw clenched in agitation.

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “I said, I'd like a separate room,” Amelia repeated as if she was announcing what she'd like for luncheon.

  Despite the heat crawling up his face, Elijah turned to the innkeeper of the little inn just outside of London they'd stopped at for the evening. “We'll be back in just a moment. Amelia, can we talk a moment?”

  Amelia followed him over to the little corner. “Yes?”

  “What are you about?”

  She shrugged. “I won a boon, didn't I?”

  “Yes,” he said slowly. “But I thought you'd want a book or a shawl or some sort of other bauble.”

  “No. I think my own room tonight should do.”

  Well, it wouldn't do for Elijah. He'd missed his opportunity to bed her last night and this morning. He didn't want to waste another chance. “You do realize when we reach Watson Estate we'll have to share the same bedchamber?”

  She frowned. “I thought there were more than sixty guest bedchambers. Surely Alex's wife isn't planning to invite that many people, is she?”

  “No,” he allowed. “But neither do I intend to take my new bride to live in the main house. Alex has a hunting cabin just a half a mile or so away from the main house. We'll be staying there.”

  Her frown deepened. “You want us to walk half a mile back and forth each day to get to their house?”

  With any luck, they wouldn't be going to Caroline's house party every day. “No, we can ride a horse, if you'd rather. Or I can even order the carriage to transport us.” Whatever it took to please her, he'd do. Almost. He did have his limits, and right now, she was testing them.

  “We can talk about this later. For now, I just want my own room for the night.”

  He scowled. “Why?”

  “Because I won a boon,” she said, lifting her chin a notch.

  To her left two burly looking fellows had stopped their conversation and were now watching Amelia and Elijah with unmasked curiosity. Elijah twisted his lips. It was becoming clear that if he didn't wish to have such a private matter discussed publicly, he'd better just agree to let her have her own room. “Fine. You can have your own room tonight. But don't think for one minute you'll get your way tomorrow night.”

  “I will if I win another boon,” she said; that old, familiar spark in her grey eyes.

  “I wouldn't spend too much time counting on such an occurrence.” He took a step closer to her and dropped his voice. “I have no desire to allow you another win.”

  She took a step in his direction, and matching his tone, said, “You won't have to let me win. I'll win all on my own.”

  Elijah had the strangest urge to wipe that smug smile straight from her lips, preferably with a kiss—the kind from yesterday at their wedding, not one similar to the travesty this morning; but instead, he just nodded and walked off. Now wasn't the time to push her. If she reacted so horribly to him while they were alone, God could only know how she might act if he tried to kiss her with an audience present.

  Elijah stalked back to the counter where the innkeeper stood. “We'll take two rooms,” he said, unable to look the older man in the eye.

  The innkeeper chuckled, but sobered instantly when Elijah shot him an icy stare. “Here is yer keys.” He handed Elijah two keys. “But there's a connecting door,” he added with a wink.

  Elijah closed his eyes, waiting for Amelia's pert reply about the connecting door being unnecessary that he was expecting; but no such reply came. He turned to look at her and if he didn't know any better, he'd say she either hadn't heard the man or was pretending she hadn't. He shook his head. For as long as he might walk the face of this earth, he may never understand the creature he'd married.

  ***

  Amelia desperately needed a new gown. While it was nice that Lady Templemore had loaned Amelia one of her best traveling gowns, it didn't fit quite right. They were close to the same height, both just a touch above five feet tall, but it would seem Amelia had a tad more curve to her bosom than Lady Templemore did.

  One of the maids had been able to let the seam out enough to allow Amelia to wear it somewhat comfortably and at least she could get this one on and off herself, she thought as she scowled at her image in the mirror. She turned to the side and ran her hands down her smooth stomach. Was that a bulge? Nonsense. It was too early to be showing signs of increasing. Sadly, she hadn't yet experienced the one symptom that guaranteed she was not increasing, either.

  She frowned and moved away from the mirror. Likely Elijah was waiting for her downstairs.

  Or right outside her door, she amended as soon as she opened the door to be greeted by his pale blue eyes.

  “Is the carriage ready?”

  He nodded. “Everything's ready, but you.” He cocked his head to the side. “Are you feeling all right?”

  “Just fine,” she lied. Was it that obvious she was hiding something?

  He nodded slowly then flickered a glance inside her room, to her bed, if she had to venture a guess. She fought not to scowl and quickly, she closed the door. What was his obsession with her bed? If he truly wanted to take her there, all he'd have to do is kiss her properly, with true and genuine emotion and she'd undoubtedly be at war with herself about what to do. Of course, she'd then have to tell him of her shame—which would kill the romance and magic of the moment faster than a stampede of elephants could trample a rose garden—then they'd be right back in the situation they currently found themselves.

  She sighed and pursed her lips. It was for the best that he wasn't truly interested in her. Once she knew whether or not she was increasing she could tell him everything, and they could start that particular
aspect of their marriage with honesty. Unfortunately, her own uncertainty of the situation might kill her first.

  “Are you feeling all right?” Elijah repeated, pulling Amelia from her fog.

  She forced a smile. “I already told you that I was.”

  He cast her a dubious look, but didn't argue. “Shall we?” He offered her his arm and led her to the carriage.

  Amelia was beyond relief when the familiar trees and rolling landscape of Watson Estate came into view, followed by the well traveled lanes to the dowager house and hunting cabin. Elijah, however, didn't look quite as relieved, perhaps that was because the curtains were drawn in the heat of the day, flooding that little building with more heat than might be comfortable.

  “Is something the matter?”

  She expected him to make a jest about his asking her that this morning, but surprised her when he didn't. “No.” He turned to face her, a stoic expression coming over him. Without consulting his pocket watch, he said, “We'll go into the main house first and greet our gracious host.”

  Amelia stared at him in confusion. He looked no more fit for company than she did, and he was insisting they go inside? Why?

  “What has you grinning like a cat who's spotted the cream?” Elijah asked with no hint of emotion in his voice.

  She put her fingers to her lips. Indeed, he was right and she was grinning wildly. “Nothing. I was merely thinking that perhaps you do have a scandalous side, after all.”

  “And you came to this conclusion because I think we should greet our hosts?” he asked, confusion marring his handsome face.

  “Dressed like we've just spent the last two days—and nights—wearing the same crumpled costumes, yes.”

  His blue eyes lit with laughter. “Have no fear, my sweet,” he said in a voice that sent shivers down her spine. “Our dreadful state of dress won't scandalize them nearly as much as the thoughts that will be cycling through each one of their heads about how we came to be in such a disheveled state. Don't forget, each and every one of them had a love match.”

  Amelia's cheeks heated as Elijah's soft chuckle filled the carriage. That scoundrel!

  Chapter Seven

  Amelia had never felt as nervous as she did right then walking into the drawing room filled with Elijah's closest female relatives.

  “Amelia,” Regina, Elijah's mother, called. She got off her blue settee and walked over to wrap Amelia in a tight hug. “I am so glad to see you. I didn't think my son would be kind enough to share you so soon.”

  Amelia almost snorted. Elijah seemed more than happy to “share” her with his family as soon as they approached Watson Estate. And the fact that the host and hostess had already gone off to entertain their guests didn't deter him one bit. Instead, he ushered her down the hall and to the drawing room so quickly it was simply miraculous she hadn't fallen on her face. Then without preamble, he slung open the door and declared that Lady Amelia Banks had arrived—as if the entire room of ladies had been waiting for that very moment. Before she could say anything—or cast him the icy stare he deserved—he was gone. Off to be away from her and with his brothers, if she had to guess. “Surely he just wanted me to meet his family while you were all so close.”

  “Yes, I'm sure that's it,” Regina said quietly; then she cleared her throat. “Well, since my son seems to lack any sort of manners, please allow me to introduce you to the room.”

  Amelia scanned all the faces and swallowed hard. She'd had no sisters or female friends growing up. How was she supposed to survive being in a room with seven other ladies?

  “Wait, Aunt Regina,” a dark-eyed woman with long, curly brown hair called. She stood up and picked something up from the top of the secretary in the corner, then came over to Amelia and handed her a sheet of paper and a short pencil. “To take notes.”

  Grinning, Regina shook her head. “It's true, we have a large family, but once you meet everyone, you'll find it's easy to identify who is who. For instance, the forward young lady who so helpfully handed you this paper is my niece Brooke, Lady Townson. Next to her with the light blonde hair and blue eyes is her sister Madison. She's married to a duke who has similar features.” She turned to face another settee full of ladies. “Over there is my final niece, Liberty Grimes and next to her is the brave woman who raised all of these girls, Carolina.” She brushed out her skirt. “And of course you already know Alex's wife Caroline and Edwina.”

  Amelia nodded quietly. She'd heard Alex had married a lady as scientific as he a few years ago, but had only seen her in passing at Edwina's wedding. And of course, she'd played with Edwina when she was younger. Being exactly three years younger than Elijah and Henry and three years older than Edwina, had put her in the position of being all of their playmates at different times. Once Elijah and Henry were old enough to go off to Eton, Amelia and Edwina had become friends until it was decided Edwina was to attend a girls' school.

  Regina affectionately squeezed her arm. “It'll be all right,” she whispered. “Just stay close to me and together we can fade into the wallpaper.”

  Amelia offered her a slim smile. “If only such a thing were truly possible.”

  Regina's eyes crinkled around the corners. “Nonsense. My son would be quite disappointed to come back and find his new bride had made such a tragic transformation.”

  “Tragic?” Amelia echoed, knitting her brows.

  Regina nodded once and dropped her voice. “My husband may have passed a few years ago, but I recall well enough that no gentleman wants only a lady whom he can look upon and occasionally touch in passing.”

  Amelia was even more confused. Regina was talking cryptically, she realized. Something that Amelia had never known her to do before. Not that she knew Elijah's mother that well. Sure, they'd had numerous amounts of afternoon teas together after Regina had caught Elijah being beastly to her. But they'd always spoken about Amelia's clothes, flowers, or other pleasantries—they'd even discussed Amelia's feelings for Elijah, or rather Amelia had confided in Regina her feelings for Elijah a time or two; but never had Regina spoken in any sort of code like she seemed to be doing now. Unfortunately, for as intelligent as Regina must think Amelia to be to understand her hidden message, Amelia was undeniably befuddled. But instead of asking for clarification and risking embarrassing herself right along with everyone else in the room, she just nodded and said, “Yes, he'd find that to be a great travesty, indeed.”

  Regina's eyes flared wide but for a moment and a hint of color rose in her cheeks. She coughed to clear her throat. “Shall we sit?”

  Numbly, Amelia nodded and took her seat. What had she just said that would cause Regina to act so...so...oddly?

  “What exactly do you have planned for this party, Caroline?” Madison, the duchess, asked.

  “Nothing too extravagant—”

  A wave of relief washed over Amelia at her sister-in-law's words, causing her not to hear anything else she said until the words, “And then of course on the final night we'll invite a few neighbors and invite others from London for the annual costume ball.”

  “A costume ball?” Amelia choked before she could stop herself.

  “Not to worry,” Caroline said, smiling warmly at Amelia. “I have a few spare dominos. You're welcome to borrow anything you might like.”

  “Thank you, that's most gracious,” Amelia murmured, inwardly cringing. The last thing she wanted to do was attend a ball with members of the ton. At the house party they were only in the company of Elijah's closest family and friends—nobody here was likely to mock her or be so cruel as to ask questions about her disastrous wedding, if they'd even heard of it yet. The same couldn't be said for the throngs of people who might come from London. She sighed. At least she'd be in disguise.

  “Of course if you don't wish to come, being newly married and all, we'll all understand,” Regina said softly.

  Amelia shot her a grateful look, but knew it'd be considered rude to accept her mother-in-law's invitation to escape. “It'
s more than a week away, surely by then we'll be settled enough to attend.”

  Elijah's Aunt Carolina gave her a doubtful look, then said the last thing Amelia ever expected a woman of her years to say, “Regina's right, dear. With the way you two stole away to Gretna Green to marry, we're all rather surprised you're even here.”

  Amelia flushed. “Gretna Green,” she choked.

  “Gretna Green,” Edwina confirmed before anyone else could say anything. “I do wish Elijah had thought enough of his family to have held just a small ceremony, but alas he didn't.”

  “That's because when a Banks man takes it in his mind it's time to marry, then it's time to marry,” Carolina said, her voice full of conviction, a wistful smile on her face. “And if that means a girl must sneak out of her window under the cloak of darkness and travel to a seedy part of town to do it—then she must go.”

  The room grew quiet as everyone exchanged looks—most notably expressions with raised eyebrows, but nobody said anything directly to Carolina's strange pronouncement.

  “Just so,” Regina agreed at last. “It's just unfortunate that we all missed out on the wedding.”

  No, they were quite fortunate they had missed the wedding, but Amelia wasn't about to say that. “May I ask how you knew of Gretna Green?” She hoped that sounded better to their ears than it had to her own. But the truth was, she'd never been to Gretna Green, and if there was a rumor going around that she'd been there to marry Elijah, she would do well to know what was being said about her before attempting to set things straight.

  “It was in Elijah's note,” Edwina said easily.

  “His note?” Amelia repeated, her words more a statement than a question.

  Edwina opened her reticule and pulled out a note and handed it to Amelia.

  I have just learned of Amelia's engagement to Lord Friar. A more mismatched pair, I couldn't imagine. I'm off to Brighton to steal the bride and take her to Gretna Green before the wedding. Wish me luck. I shall see you soon.