"Shall I take it, my lord?" Griffin held out his hand to take it from Edward.
Edward closed his hand around it, feeling oddly possessive of the trinket. "That won't be necessary, Griffin. I rather like it." Edward placed the locket into his inner jacket pocket and held out his arm for Griffin to put on the remaining cufflink. "Best get to dinner. I'm sure Mrs. Thornton is waiting for me."
Having finished dressing, he headed out and down the hall. Catherine emerged at the same time.
"Oh, Catherine, I beg your pardon for having kept you waiting." Edward swept over to her and gathered her hand in his. She was wearing long ivory evening gloves, and her dark hair had been curled and piled on top of her head. She wore a lightweight gown in ivory with a shawl in a warm brown.
Catherine took a step back as he drew in to plant a kiss on her lips. He took her resistance as a show of propriety. She was a timid creature, and that was what drew him to her. From the moment he had spotted her at the dinner party where they met, he had wanted to draw her out of herself. He wanted to get to know the Catherine who hid behind those lowered lashes.
"Lord Thornton, I hope you are well."
Her formal address cooled his ardor. His mother used to call his father Lord Thornton, and it always seemed cold and distant. "Catherine, darling, we are married now; you must call me Edward."
She blushed. It added delicate color to her pale skin. "Edward," she whispered.
He tugged her close and brought her so they were pressed against one another. He could smell the jasmine that had been used to scent her bath on her skin. She kept her gaze lowered, and he saw the blue veins along her eyelids and her dark lashes against her pale skin.
"We should prepare to greet our guests; they will be arriving soon," Catherine said.
She was not pushing him away, but she was stiff in his arms. I should not have waited to bring her to my bed; now she fears me. Well, I plan to remedy that this evening. Damn the estate and damn this party, I would take her back now if I could. The locket in his pocket seemed to blaze, burning against his flesh and exciting his carnal appetite.
"They shall be here too soon for my liking," he murmured before he captured her lips with his. Her lips were cold and hesitant at first, but after a moment she opened up to him. Her hands, uncertain where to rest, ended up on his arms. This kiss was so much different from their previous kisses: the brief peck at the altar and the goodnight kiss they shared upon their wedding night, whereupon they had both collapsed on their shared bed, leaving her a maiden for another day. I waited much too long; I cannot imagine what I was thinking. They had been married less than a week, and it seemed a blur. He had rushed home to deal with some matters of estate, not even taking time to take a honeymoon journey. Why did we rush? We are young, and these petty farm concerns, they can wait. This is my wife, flesh of my flesh. I have not seen her since we arrived at Thornwood Abbey. I have been too busy to see to her well-being; she must think herself neglected. I must remedy this.
They broke apart. Catherine was panting, and a few hairs had come loose and fell forward to frame her face. "Edward," she said breathlessly.
He tucked her hair behind her ear before tracing her cheek with his knuckles. "I have only just realized I have neglected you since we have come home. I am sorry for that."
Catherine inhaled sharply and looked about as if she did not know how to respond.
He tugged on one of her curls and drew her eyes back to him. "There's no need to be shy, Catherine. We are husband and wife now."
He saw the conflicted expression as her eyes darted this way and that as she tried to form a reply. He did not want to subject her to further torture and said, "Come to dinner, darling." He offered her his bended arm. She smiled a flash of brilliance that made him want to kiss her again, but he refrained, there would be time after dinner. They strode down the swirling staircase together and down into the entryway, where they were to greet their guests.
When he had sent out the invitations, he had thought to keep the gathering small. Just his closest companions and family, but as he made his list, it grew beyond a small gathering into a dinner party the size he had not seen since his father had passed three years ago.
"Darling, this is Dr. Rowan and his wife, Mrs. Rowan," Edward said, introducing their first guests.
The middle-aged couple shed their coats and handed them to Mr. Fox. Dr. Rowan had thinning red hair plastered to his head and spectacles on his round nose, and Mrs. Rowan had black hair liberally streaked with gray and a long thin face. Dr. Rowan took Edward's hand and gave it a firm shake. His wife gave Catherine a half smile, which stretched her thin face.
She took both of Catherine's hands in hers and said, "What a sweet creature you are, Lady Thornton." Then to Edward she exclaimed, "You have not done her beauty justice."
Edward beamed. "How does one describe the sun to someone who has lived their entire life in the dark?"
Catherine colored at the compliment. Edward took pleasure in bringing out that reaction in her. Perhaps I am not blundering as a husband after all.
More guests streamed in after; Col. Hawthorn, an aged former navy commander, shuffled in, leaning heavily on his cane.
"My lady." He bowed at the waist in greeting to Catherine. She looked at the man as if she were petrified. He had a white mustache, which drooped on either side of his face and made him appear as if he were perpetually frowning, which he was. Edward gave his wife's hand a squeeze. She looked up at him, and her terrified expression faded when she saw Edward smiling at her.
His sister Lydia and her husband, Patrick, came next along with his aunt, Isobel Rosewood. Lydia was all blonde exuberance. She had golden locks that she had curled and coifed up high in what he was sure was the latest fashion. She wore a rose-colored gown, which accentuated her trim waist. It was hard to believe she had her second son only a year ago. In contrast, Patrick was tall and thick in the shoulder and waist, with dark hair, which he kept short.
"Edward, I am so deliriously happy for you and Catherine!" Lydia said as she embraced Edward. She turned her attention on Catherine and kissed her on both cheeks in a familiar way. Lydia complimented Catherine's dress and asked her a string of questions without waiting for an answer. Patrick tugged on Lydia's arm and drew them into the parlor, saving Catherine from further attention.
Catherine's eyes followed them into the parlor, her mouth agape. She did not ask, but Edward answered anyway. "Yes, she's always that way."
Catherine flushed and looked at her feet. Edward only shook his head. She'll get used to her. I'm sure they'll be close as sisters soon enough. I just wish Edith could have come from London to meet her as well. We'll have to go see her and the children soon.
Aunt Isobel lingered to give Edward a quick hug that was featherlight. Aunt Isobel, a small woman with dark hair and a heart-shaped face, looked up at her nephew. "How was your journey?"
"Good, Aunt, but it is better to be home. I want you to meet my wife, Catherine."
Catherine looked even paler beside his aunt, who wore a gown in a deep burgundy color that complemented the golden color of her skin.
"I am pleased to meet you," Catherine said, not meeting the older woman's gaze.
Isobel grabbed Catherine by the chin and forced her to look up. "Don't fear looking your peers in the eye, child. You are Lady Thornton now; be proud of that," Aunt Isobel said in her soft voice.
Catherine gulped visibly and nodded her head. Isobel shared a stunning smile with Catherine before disappearing into the parlor. When the remainder of the guests came through, Catherine kept her chin up and smiled, greeting them in a warm way. It was a proud moment. I should have Aunt Isobel come around; Catherine will need help learning how to be Lady Thornton.
A few more groups came in: Reverend Alder, his wife and his oldest daughter, Miss Alder, came at the same time as Mr. and Mrs. Mapleton. Mr. Cedars and his son, Mr. Nathaniel Cedars, arrived amidst quarreling about seating in which Miss Lilac's name came up.
They greeted Catherine and Edward before heading into the parlor to continue their argument. After them came Mrs. Lilac and her spinster daughter, Miss Lilac.
Edward thought the Lilacs were the final guests to arrive. He turned to escort Catherine into the parlor to speak with their guests when Mr. Hobbs made a last minute announcement.
"Mr. and Mrs. Ashton, my lord."
Edward stopped. Catherine had loosened up at last and was linking arms with him, at ease. He stiffened and turned to greet their late guests. Mr. Ashton was a wiry man with short blond hair that was predominately gray. Mrs. Ashton was a strawberry blonde with an artful streak of gray that ran through her hair. They stood in the entryway, looking at Edward before their gazes rested on Catherine. Mrs. Ashton's gaze was almost hostile in its assessment.
"Mr. Ashton, I thought you were in London for the season?" Edward said. He peered over their shoulder, looking for who he could not imagine. He felt Catherine watching him; perhaps she sensed his surprise. He discarded the feeling that someone was missing from their party.
"We came home early, and we were just in time to get your invitation," Mr. Ashton said with a broad smile. "I am sorry we're late. The storm delayed our departure somewhat."
"Think nothing of it, my old friend. We were just about to announce dinner." Edward motioned towards the parlor.
"Are you going to introduce us to your wife, Lord Thornton?" Mrs. Ashton's voice was cool.
Catherine peered up at Edward, waiting for him to take the lead. "Where are my manners? Mr. Ashton, Mrs. Ashton, this is my bride, Catherine Thornton."
"I am pleased to make your acquaintance," Catherine curtsied.
Mrs. Ashton pursed her lips but covered it with a smile when Edward took a second look. "You are a pretty thing. I can see why you stole Edward's heart."
Catherine blanched, and Edward decided the entire affair needed some smoothing over. He could not imagine why the Ashtons would be displeased with his bride. "I'm glad you both could come; I'd be honored if you would sit beside us at dinner."
"It would be an honor." Mr. Ashton beamed.
Edward gestured once more to the parlor. "Well, shall we, then?"
Edward, Catherine and their guests mingled in the parlor. When dinner was ready, Mr. Hobbs came in and made the announcement. The guests drifted out of the parlor and into the dining room. The footmen were waiting along the wall, in white gloves and tails, backs straight.
Catherine seemed apprehensive as they took their seats. She stared down at her place setting, the multitude of silverware, with a look of complete panic.
Edward leaned over to whisper in her ear, "Start from the outside and work your way in with each course."
She glanced at him with her large brown eyes and mouthed, 'Thank you.'
The first course was served, and Edward focused on entertaining the Ashtons. Mr. Ashton gave him a drawn out recounting of their time in London. He spoke at length about mutual acquaintances and the string of parties he had attended while in town. Next to Catherine was Mrs. Rowan, and she was attempting to draw Catherine into conversation. Catherine seemed incapable of answering in more than single syllables. She's nervous; I wish there was some way I could put her at ease.
As they were serving the dessert course, Col. Hawthorn spoke up. "Lord Thornton, I have something I must say, and forgive me for being blunt, but what madness drove you to travel during a Thorn Dwellers' Moon?"
The room fell silent but for the clatter of silverware. Dr. Rowan dropped his fork into his wineglass, and the cup tipped over, spilling wine onto the white linen. Mr. Solomon rushed forward to clean up the mess. The only sound for a few moments was Dr. Rowan's muttered complaints about a stain on his cravat.
Lydia laughed as if it were all a big joke. Everyone else remained silent. Lydia's laughter died away as Patrick hushed her. Every eye turned to Edward. They all seemed to be holding their breath, waiting for his response. Only Catherine kept her eyes transfixed upon the colonel.
"Forgive me, Colonel, but those are just old superstitions," Edward said as if to brush the matter away. He could not hide his displeasure from his tone, and he noticed a few of his guests fidgeting uncomfortably in their seats. Damn you, Colonel! Do not drag the past out into the open, not tonight.
"That's not what your father thought. He believed, as I do, that the woods behind your house are full of dreadful things. To take a young woman out on their night is to court disaster."
Someone cleared their throat, perhaps Dr. Rowan. Catherine continued to stare at the colonel as if he held the answers to all of life's mysteries. Edward was pricked by jealousy. It was childish, and he knew it. He could not get Catherine to look at him for more than a moment, and here the colonel had captured her attention with his mad ravings. Catherine sat poised on the edge of her chair, her eyes boring into the colonel.
"Colonel, you will scare the poor girl." Lydia laughed again. "Those are just stories nurses tell children to keep them from misbehaving."
The colonel glared at Lydia, and she shrank back in her chair.
"Enough," Edward said, slamming his hand down on the table. Catherine jumped and flicked her gaze towards Edward before staring back at her plate. "I will have no more talk about fairy tales this evening. We are here to celebrate my marriage to Catherine." He gave the colonel a pointed look. The colonel may have been his father's close friend, but that did not give him the freedom to terrify his guests with his superstitions.
"Speaking of celebrations," Aunt Isobel said in a low voice from the end of the table. Everyone looked in her direction, and a few leaned in to hear her better. "Why not hold a ball in your wife's honor?"
"A splendid idea, Aunt Isobel," Edward said. At last someone had a good idea.
"We haven't had a ball in ages," Lydia opined.
"Would you like that, dearest?" Edward leaned in to ask Catherine.
She nodded feebly.
"It's settled, then." Lydia clapped her hands together. "Catherine, I will help you with every detail. I helped Papa plan my ball when I came out. It will be splendid," Lydia said. Her cheeks were flushed with pleasure at the thought. Catherine gave her a weak smile in return.
After dinner the ladies went to the salon and the men hung back to smoke and drink. Edward caught Catherine's hand as she motioned to leave. "I won't be long, darling."
"I will miss you," she said in a small voice.
It warmed him to hear her say it. Tonight is the night I will visit her bed. I really have waited too long.
Aunt Isobel swept up and joined Catherine on her way out. She spoke with his wife, and he saw a tentative smile on Catherine's face. Edward met his aunt's gaze and gave her a silent thank you for her tactfully timed intervention during the colonel's outburst. It was no surprise that the colonel did not linger and left after dinner had ended. Edward tried to put aside the colonel's words, but he found himself ruminating on the past. I will not have these superstitions polluting our evening. I will have these rumors squashed. What's past is past; there's no need to let it ruin the present.
Chapter Three
He could feel eyes on the back of his neck. He had been doing his best to ignore them, but he could do it no longer. Ray sat back on his heels. He peered over his shoulder and met the glower of Mr. Rockwell. He was a large man, arms as thick as tree trunks, with a barrel chest and a thick black beard. A large nose dominated his features, and his eyes were beady black. His face was red from working out in the sun, and his hands were covered in callouses from working in the earth. Said hands were tapping on beefy forearms as the owner stared down at Ray. I wonder if there's giant in his bloodline or maybe troll. Regular humans don't get this big and mean without a bit of that.
"Why, Mr. Rockwell, to what do I owe the pleasure?" Ray said with an easy smile. He knew better than to jab at the head gardener, but humans were just too easy to provoke, and his job had so few perks.
"Mr. Thorn." Mr. Rockwell said his name like a curse, and maybe to him it was
. "I expected you to be done with these plantings hours ago. You were supposed to be trimming the hedges on the west end."
Ray stood up. He came perhaps to Mr. Rockwell's chin, which was impressive because Ray was not a small man. He looked the taller man in the eye and said, "Was I?"
Mr. Rockwell's red face turned an alarming shade of violet. He sputtered some expletives that were not meant for polite company and opened and closed his fists a few times. A thread of patience was holding him back from taking a swing at Ray. It would only end badly for Mr. Rockwell, not that Ray would be the one to tell the brawny gardener that. I best stop before he has heart failure.
Ray sighed. "You humans are too fragile."
"What nonsense are you talking about now?" Mr. Rockwell seethed. He spat as he spoke. Spittle sprayed Ray's face. He wiped it away with a frown. Maybe I should let him throw a punch just so I have the justification to fight him.
If he were not in enough hot water already, he would have. He shook his head, despairing his lot in life. He locked his gaze on Mr. Rockwell's. "You said I could have the afternoon off. I've been working hard lately, and you thought I deserved a bit of relaxation." Few powers remained to Ray, and those that did were meant to keep him safe. That was not to say he did not use every chance he could to abuse said powers when it amused him.
The color drained from Mr. Rockwell's face, and his jaw went slack. "I did?" he said in a dreamy way.
"You did. Now why don't you go have a lie-down in the shed?" Ray suggested with a smile. He patted the large man on the shoulder. It felt like hitting a rock. Maybe he's part rock creature.
"Yeah, I need a bit of a rest." Mr. Rockwell yawned and stretched his arms overhead. He turned, glazed eyed, and trudged towards the shed a few feet away.
Ray watched him go with an indulgent smile like a parent might give their child. They really are too easy. He bent back down to return to his iris bed when he saw something run past. He stood up once more and surveyed the landscape. The gardens were large; the humans had cut into the forest hundreds of years ago, replacing the oak and ash that had made their homes here since the dawn of time with green lawns and rounded garden beds with domesticated flowers lined in color-coordinated rows. Though pretty, they lacked any real spark of life. They may as well have been clipped and arrange in the crystal jars that the humans seemed to enjoy so much.
Heart of Thorns Page 3