He couldn’t stand still a moment longer. He felt uncommonly hotheaded, like his father, eager to bang his fist against a defenseless piece of furniture. Quite unprepared to deal with such tumultuous emotions, he paced the length of the room while tearing at his hair. “I’m bringing a wife onto a battlefield. She’ll loathe me within a week’s time…if I’m lucky! Once she realizes the unforgiving lot I’ve forced her to marry into, it’ll be a blessing if I ever again see one of those cursed fake smiles she’s been torturing me with all week. I’ll have no hope of winning back any of her real ones.”
“That’s vastly unfair, Nathan.” Maryanne’s eyebrows shot up into her hairline. “It is your poor behavior that has triggered your family’s contempt. We are entirely capable of acting in a civilized manner when in civilized company.”
He snapped his fingers. “That just might be it! That just might be what I need to do to reach her again! If she could witness for herself this family at its natural worst, she’ll either demand to be let out of the engagement or will become so enraged that she will champion me.” He rather enjoyed picturing her working up one of her adorable tempers in defense of him. “Either way, she’ll have to talk to me again.”
Maryanne shrank back from him. “What do you plan to do? Invite her over for dinner? Just her? Not her family too?”
“That is precisely what I plan to do.”
“I assure you she’ll not witness anything untoward.” Maryanne clicked her tongue. “You paint an unfair picture of us. We’re not monsters.”
“Perhaps not, but I wager I’ve been the family whipping boy for so long that some members of this family won’t be able to help themselves. And I imagine she will get quite an eye-opening look at why marriage to her is so vital to me—how she’s my oasis in the midst of this emotional desert my adoring parents have built all around me.”
* * * * *
“Surprise!” a chorus of voices rang out.
Surprise? Iona dropped the empty baskets she was carrying. Surprise? What an understatement! She’d returned home after spending an afternoon of charitable work with Amelia. The last thing she had been expecting was this.
Her hands flew to cover her gaping mouth. She blinked, fearing that she had finally cracked and was imagining that her dearest friend was indeed in Bath and was beaming her a winsome smile while looking like some fairytale creature come to grant Iona her fondest wishes.
“She doesn’t look pleased,” May said, her brows furrowing. She tucked a strand of unruly red hair behind her ear as she hugged a wiggly baby to the bodice of her stunning peacock-colored dress.
“She’s frozen with shock,” May’s husband, Viscount Evers agreed. “You probably should have let me send that note of warning.”
Since Iona still couldn’t seem to talk, she simply nodded in agreement.
“Oh, don’t look so thunderstruck,” May scolded. She gently deposited the bundled babe into the Viscount’s arms. A lively twinkle brightened her violet-colored eyes. “You and I are made of sterner stuff.”
Tears sprang to Iona’s eyes and a laugh bubbled up in her throat. She tossed herself into her dearest friend’s welcoming arms. “It is indeed a surprise! I didn’t expect you until the wedding! Oh, but I am so very glad to see you. So much has happened in the last few weeks. I am near to bursting to tell you it all.”
“I should say you are,” May said.
After introductions and greetings had been properly covered, Iona led May out into the back gardens while the Viscount excused himself to have a word with the Duke.
“I heard you’ve buried yourself in charity work,” May said. They selected a garden bench near the fragrant rose arbor in the Newburys’ private garden.
Iona folded her hands in her lap. A soft summer breeze tinkled through a distant wind chime.
“And that you’ve been unhappy,” May added.
It was true. But how did she admit to being burdened by such guilt that she felt a need to do penance for her sins? For the past week and a half, she’d desperately wished for her friend’s company. Had urgently needed a sympathetic ear to bend.
Now that her wish had been granted, she wasn’t sure where to start. Or if she was even ready to admit to the heavy aches weighing on her heart.
“Oh bugger,” she muttered, “marriage to Nathan bodes to be far worse than a loveless match with Byron. At least with Byron, I understood his motives and feelings toward me. With Nathan, everything has turned into a puzzle.”
She knew she needed to talk with him in order to try and sort everything out. Yet every time she tried, she’d see those dark bruises marring his face and her tongue would freeze in her mouth. Or she would babble on and on, saying nothing but a bunch of twaddle.
And she wasn’t the only one feeling the strain of her upcoming nuptials either.
“Mama rarely speaks anymore. And Papa has taken to heaving long, drawn-out sighs whenever I enter the room. To escape, I’ve packed away my art supplies and thrown myself into charity work and into paying more and more frequent visits to the widows who always looked forward to my company.
“They are all terribly worried about me. Despite my abject denials, every single one, including Lady Pulteney whom I consider quite logical and even-tempered, has coddled me while expressing their most heartfelt sympathies. It was a shame how I’ve been heartlessly seduced and forced into marriage to a scoundrel, they say. A handsome scoundrel but a scoundrel nonetheless.”
“How distressing,” May agreed.
When not enduring their well-meaning pity, Iona had volunteered at Lady Astley’s School for Displaced Women, a school that educated the demimonde in various respectable professions. Her work there was doing wonders in helping rebuild her damaged self-esteem.
The work was not only a kind of penance for her reckless behavior of late. It also reminded her how lucky she was to have a loving family and a marriage proposal the young women at the school viewed as a damned miracle.
“You must remember to not swear in polite company,” she had scolded one of the newer students just that morning as the ladies excitedly discussed her upcoming nuptials.
“I don’t know what to do, May. Actually I don’t think there is anything I can do.”
Instead of being appropriately sympathetic and gloomy, May flashed Iona one of her mischievous gypsy grins and shook her head from side to side. She appeared to be struggling to hold back a laugh.
“How can you find humor in this?” Iona demanded.
“You speak of what everyone else must be thinking about you and this marriage and yet you’ve conveniently left out your own feelings. Do you love Nathan?”
Iona gritted her teeth. Not at all sure why she should feel defensive, she picked up the piece of embroidery she’d carried outside with her, a table runner decorated with large white daises that when finished was to be a gift for their neighbor, the widow Lady Potswell. She stilled her nervous fingers and raging mind by concentrating on sewing a line of straight, uniform stitches.
“We share nothing more than a mutual friendship,” she said once she’d finished.
“A mutual friendship, you say?” May pressed.
“The same friendship we forged when we were playing matchmaker between you and Lord Evers.”
“And I thank you for that,” May said, bowing her head. “I was confoundingly stubborn about some things…like admitting to being in love with Radford.”
“I know what you are trying to say. But this situation is vastly different from yours. And, besides, my feelings are of no account. They have never been.”
“Is that so?”
“It doesn’t really matter if I want this or any other marriage, which I don’t. As my father has so aptly explained, this bed is of my own making and I am honor-bound to lie in it.”
“I don’t know, Iona. Marriage to Lord Nathan might not be such a bad thing.” May rocked her sleeping baby boy between her knees. “Just look, all this talk of beds and having to lie down in th
em has given you goose bumps.”
Iona looked. She did indeed have goose bumps.
“I don’t want to talk about it.” Rubbing her arms, she gazed up at the reddish-purple leaves of the stately copper beech shading them. A tiny brown bird was flitting from branch to branch. “Tell me more about little Henry and what it’s like to be a mother.”
May’s face lit up as she stroked her baby’s velvety cheek. It was painfully obvious to Iona that marriage and motherhood perfectly suited her once unbending, independently minded friend. She couldn’t remember ever seeing May looking more relaxed and contented. “I’m still getting to know him and learn how to make him happy. So far the adventure has been an absolute joy. He’s a charmer. Just like his father.”
“I’m happy for you,” Iona said, though her heart didn’t feel the least bit happy. A tremor of pain laced through her veins. May’s marriage had been born from a love match.
Hers would be from scandal. The differences did matter.
“You and Lord Nathan were already friends…and I suspect more. That is a great gift.” May reached out and squeezed Iona’s hand. “You will see. Things will work themselves out.”
“You have a visitor, my lady,” Myers, the Newburys’ butler, approached while clearing his throat loudly. He held out a silver tray with a card on it for Iona to take.
“The Right Honorable Countess of Snaddon,” Iona read aloud.
“Who is she?” May asked.
“I haven’t a clue. Who is she, Myers?”
“I believe she is your fiancé’s sister-in-law, my lady.”
Iona blushed at having forgotten the names of Nathan’s family. She’d met Lady Snaddon several times around town. She should have remembered.
“Shall I tell her you are away from home?” Myers asked.
“No, please show her the way into the garden.”
He nodded deeply and shuffled away.
“I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised by the visit,” Iona said. “I’ll have to develop a relationship with Lord Nathan’s family sooner or later.”
A tall, long-featured lady, with a narrow nose, full lips and wisps of dark brown hair framing her oval face, apologized most heartily for arriving without a prior invitation after Myers presented her to both Iona and May.
Iona brushed Lady Snaddon’s concerns away and offered a spot on the bench.
“Since we will soon be sisters,” Lady Snaddon said as she smoothed the skirt of her calico dress before sitting, “I would be delighted if you’d call me Maryanne.”
“And I hope you will see fit to calling me Iona,” she said as she dredged up a kindly smile for her future sister-in-law. “I hope you don’t mind that I’m meeting guests outside where I cannot ring for tea. The weather is just so pleasant today, you see.”
Maryanne waved off Iona’s concerns.
“Is there anything I can do for you, Maryanne?” she asked in the somewhat awkward silence that followed. The little bird flying around in the tree squawked.
“I must admit there isn’t any real purpose for this visit. The sorry truth is that I’ve been wildly curious about you and why you’ve agreed to this wedding.”
Iona dug her fingers into the table runner spread out on her lap and drew her chin up a good inch. “I see.”
“Don’t mistake my meaning,” Maryanne said quickly, “I don’t hold anything that happened with Lord Nathan against you.”
“But you don’t exactly approve either?” May said in Iona’s defense. Henry stirred and after twisting in his bundle of blankets started to cry. May cradled him against her chest and gently bounced him while cooing nonsense words.
“He is a lovely baby,” Maryanne said, seeming relieved to have a reason to change the subject. She talked for a while about her young son who had reached his second year that spring.
“He is a blessing. After eight years of marriage I was beginning to despair whether I would ever bear a child.” She touched her hand to her stomach. “And now I have been blessed for a second time. I’m hoping for another son.”
Iona offered her congratulations without much conviction. Something about Maryanne’s manner—the way her eyes would linger too long on Iona and the way her brows had pinched together when she’d mentioned the wedding—made the muscles in Iona’s shoulders tighten. Something was definitely eating at her future sister-in-law’s mind.
“Why do you disapprove of your brother-in-law’s decision to marry me?” She couldn’t keep silent any longer about the unspoken censure she kept reading in Maryanne’s tight expression. “Are you worried that our union will embarrass your family?”
“Of course not. It’s just…just…” She heaved a deep sigh. “You are so very different from Nathan. You are refined, graceful. And he is naught but a careless rogue. How can such a match possibly work? How can a man like that possibly make you happy?”
“I don’t believe Iona’s feelings toward this wedding or Lord Nathan are any of your concern,” May said crisply.
“Perhaps not. I didn’t intend to create trouble, my lady. I am simply surprised.”
“Surprised by what?” Iona asked when Maryanne failed to explain herself.
“That in the face of such a dreadful scandal, you can appear so unaffected,” Maryanne answered without hesitation and then drew back. “I am sorry,” she whispered. “How thoughtless of me. I shouldn’t have referred to something that must distress you terribly, even if you don’t show it.”
“Rest assured, Maryanne, the circumstances of my marriage don’t so overset me that I cannot bear to hear mention of it.”
“Really?” Maryanne looked taken aback. “You aren’t afraid that word of what happened here will travel to London? You truly don’t mind that others are more interested in the circumstances that brought about this marriage than the wedding itself?”
“Why should I? It is entirely my fault that Lord Nathan and I are being forced to wed.” She leaned her head back and remembered how, in the flickering candlelight of the grotto, he’d touched her in the most intimate places. His deep, rhythmic strokes had awakened her whole body until she felt as if she was going to come apart. Like a shameless hoyden, she’d pressed her hips against his exploring hand, encouraged him, begged for him to give her more. And more.
Swallowing hard, Iona pushed those memories away. They always led to one thing—the terrible thing that followed. “I truly regret that society thinks he is to blame for what I have done. Truly, if I hadn’t pressured him into giving me those clandestine lessons, I doubt any of this—”
“You pressured him?” both May and Maryanne exclaimed.
Iona nodded sheepishly and then explained how the events of the last couple of weeks had unfolded.
Maryanne shook her head in disbelief. “You are an uncommon lady, Iona. If I were in your position, I doubt I’d be brave enough to make such an admission. The Portfrys are indeed fortunate to soon have you as part of our ranks.”
“I hope your family will also find it in their hearts to welcome Nathan back into the family.”
A deep flush crawled up Maryanne’s neck. “I do not wish to impose on you any longer,” she said as she rose from the bench. “Irregardless of how this upcoming wedding came about, I am pleased. I was my parents’ only daughter. It will be nice to finally have a sister. Good afternoon, Iona.” She dipped her head. “Lady Evers.”
“Thank you,” Iona said. “And a good afternoon to you too.”
“Oh, before I go…” Maryanne’s gaze trailed off to the deep purple flowers blooming on the clematis climbing the brick wall that enclosed the rose arbor. Her voice tightened. “Nathan is planning to invite you to a family dinner tomorrow night. He’s got some fool idea that if you…” She hesitated. Chewing on her bottom lip, she seemed to change her mind about what she was going say. “For my brother-in-law’s sake, I-I rather think it a good idea for you to try and be there.”
Chapter Twenty
All of Iona’s very proper, very organized
thoughts spilled out of her head when Nathan drew her fingers toward his and began tracing small circles on the back of her gloved hand. In that timeless moment, she forgot she was standing in the doorway of the Portfrys’ parlor or that Nathan’s family was waiting in the other room to greet her. There was only the memory of the rough whiskers that had scraped against her cheek when Nathan had last kissed her and the skillful movement of his body against hers. The way he was touching her now was so filled with promise that she completely forgot how to breathe.
“I am honored you have accepted our invitation for dinner,” he said, his deep voice traveled down her body, giving the butterflies in her stomach yet another reason to flutter.
“My pleasure,” she choked out, her thoughts still straying.
Nathan’s mind didn’t appear to be operating too well either. What was he doing, practically seducing her in front of the high-sticklers that populated his family?
Before she’d been able to follow Rogers, the Portfrys’ stiff-collared butler, into the townhouse’s ground-floor cream-and-red-striped parlor to be announced, Nathan had bounded across the room and pounced on her. Taking possession of her hand and her mind.
“You look beautiful tonight,” he said while still tracing those tantalizing circles against her silk-covered skin, warming her blood.
She dipped her head, not quite sure why she was blushing. “Thank you.”
His broad chest and powerful legs were completely blocking her entrance to the parlor and he seemed set on not budging. Someone behind him cleared his throat.
“Don’t you think I should greet your family?” she whispered. “It would be rude not to.”
Nathan squared his shoulders. “I suppose I cannot keep you to myself all evening. A damned pity,” he grumbled as he relinquished her hand. “You do look beautiful.”
His family greeted Iona warmly and treated her with exceedingly well-groomed manners. And although there was no mention of the upcoming wedding—this dinner was supposed to be a family celebration of it—Iona got the definite impression that they heartily welcomed the addition of one of the Duke of Newbury’s daughters into their ranks.
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