Let Me Be The One

by Jo Goodman

  "True," she said. "But I quite miss the point. I thought your experience with scaling walls the result of a great many near encounters with suspicious husbands, not that you were stealing from the ton."

  "Is it your intention to flatter or wound me?"

  "Neither. I am still having fun with you."

  He grinned. "As you like. There is also the fact that I helped you find the treasure."

  "Odd. I thought I helped you."

  "Do not split hairs."

  Elizabeth laughed. "Very well. You present some compelling points and I have been remiss in not suspecting you. You must return the gold fob and ruby pendant immediately to Louise and make amends to society."

  "And you will stand by me?"

  "I will write you faithfully in Australia."

  North responded to her butter-wouldn't-melt tone with a shout of laughter.

  Elizabeth placed a finger to her own lips to shush him. "You'll wake Lord Southerton," she whispered.

  Laughter continued to rumble. "Now that would indeed be unfortunate."

  "Why is that?"

  "Because I could not so easily do this." He swooped quickly, catching her while her face was still raised. His mouth slanted across hers. North felt her momentary resistance, part surprise, part uncertainty, then her sweet response, the parted lips and breathy little sigh, the tentative press of her mouth and the damp edge of her tongue. It was with some reluctance that he drew back. He could not properly take her in his arms and he had no wish to start something he could not finish. Tomorrow night was another matter entirely.

  Elizabeth felt him remove his foot from the swing seat. His hands slid up the ropes again. She lowered her head, then her eyes. Her own hands dropped to her lap. She could still feel the outline of his mouth against hers. She wanted to resent him for her response but knew there was no fairness in it. He could rouse nothing from her that she was unwilling to give. "May I speak frankly?" she asked.

  North thought she had certainly done so in the past. "I hope you always will. I would not have it otherwise."

  "You only think that now," she said softly. Elizabeth shook her head. "It is of no matter. I do not mean to make that argument again. What I want to say is—"

  "Can you not look at me?"

  Her chin came up predictably. She saw that North had shifted just enough to one side to allow the torchlight to bathe her face. While he still stood in shadow, she was exposed. It did not make her shy away from what must be said. "I think you imagine some tender feelings toward me. Am I correct?"

  "I would only take issue with the word imagine. The tender feelings are quite real." North could not tell if this small concession make it easier or more difficult for her to continue. Even in full light, Elizabeth's features gave nothing away. "Does this present an impediment to our marriage?"

  Uncertain if he was making light of her, Elizabeth frowned slightly. "That is for you to say. You must know I return no feeling other than a kind regard for your good character." She peered up at him, trying to gauge his reaction. It was impossible to tell what he thought, or if he was moved in any way. "I would not have you fall in love with me."

  Northam released the swing and let his hands drop to his sides. "Surely that is not up to you."

  "I realize that. In truth, I do not know if such a thing is possible. Whatever the nature of your feelings for me now, it will come to change. I should think it very likely that someday you will hate me. Indeed, I do not know how it can be otherwise. You probably believe I am saying this for your sake, but it is not so. I say it for my own. I find I am selfish enough to hope that you will hate me less if you never love me at all."

  Northam was quite without words. He watched a sheen of tears overlay her implacable eyes. She continued to regard him steadily, unblinkingly, as if willing them not to fall, and he wondered at the cost to her pride to put this matter before him. Did she think so little of herself, or so much?

  "There is no need for you to marry me," she said gravely. In spite of her wish for it to be otherwise, there was a catch in her voice. Elizabeth drew a shaky breath. "I want to be very clear on that account. It is not too late to withdraw your proposal. You could choose to set me up as your mistress and I would accept. We need only keep the arrangement a few months, live through the scandal, and then go on with our lives. Your reputation will not suffer unduly, and since I never had any intention of marrying again, what they say about me does not matter. Divorce is a much more difficult end to achieve."

  "There will be no divorce," North said. "There is no—" He stopped, frowning. His fingers raked his hair, then came to rest at the back of his neck. He massaged the knot of tension that was forming there. "What do you mean you had no intention of marrying again?"

  Now Elizabeth blinked. "I beg your pardon?"

  North did not believe for a moment that Elizabeth had not heard him. For the first time in their short acquaintance he suspected she was preparing to dissemble. "You said you had no intention of marrying again. It suggests that you have been married before. Is that true?"

  She shook her head forcefully. "No. No, I have not."

  North's eyes narrowed. "Then explain yourself."

  "There is nothing to explain. I believe you misunderstood or I misspoke. I was making reference to our possible marriage. I simply meant that I never had intention of marrying again after that."

  North tried to bring to mind the whole of her little speech and found he could not. He was left only with the impression that all was not as it should be. "You were no virgin," he said.

  Elizabeth's laugh sounded a trifle hysterical to her own ears. She recovered quickly, covering her mouth with her hand until it was swallowed. She said evenly, "I believe that is explained by the fact that I am a whore."

  Northam knew he could easily lose patience with her. As a defense, what she offered was unconventional. "But if you were married—"

  "And I have said I was not."

  "Then you have had a great many lovers."

  Unable to help her response, Elizabeth flinched."I believe that is the very definition of a whore."

  Which, again, was not precisely an answer. Northam thought he had accepted that there had been someone else before him, but now he had cause to wonder. Was it the vision of that damnable parade of men to her bed that troubled him, or this new suspicion that there had been but one man, a very special man... a husband?

  He stepped back from the swing entirely and extended his hand. "Come," he said somewhat stiffly. "I will escort you back to the house."

  Elizabeth stood without accepting his assistance and made to walk past him. His hand on her elbow stopped her. She looked at it pointedly.

  "I will escort you," he said again.

  She thought better of pulling away. Come tomorrow she would have no right to do so. She might as well accustom herself to it now. Northam seemed to have already reconsidered his promise that nothing should be done that would cause her discomfort. Elizabeth looked up, startled, when his hand fell away. Torchlight flickered across his face and she saw he had not changed his mind at all; rather there was a hint of regret in his dark blue eyes that she found most unsettling.

  "This way," he said. "The path is less circuitous."

  * * *

  Elizabeth had never fainted and she willed herself not to do so now. She wished that it was appropriate for North to take her arm. She would have been grateful for his support. Instead he stood beside her, seemingly at his ease while her entire body thrummed with the strength of nerves pulled taut.

  She lifted the small bouquet she held just enough to catch the delicate fragrance of lilies-of-the-field. Better that Louise should have placed smelling salts among the greenery. That at least would have assured she remained upright, if not entirely coherent.

  What was the vicar saying? She caught fragments of his opinion on the purpose of marriage, the sanctity of the vows, and the rights and privileges of the contract they were making with each other and with God.
Elizabeth had no idea if she agreed with any of it. She kept her focus on the vicar's spectacles. They winked in the sunlight coming through the stained glass windows and cast a reflection that prevented her from seeing his eyes clearly. It was more difficult not to imagine his censure.

  She found no relief by considering what those sitting behind her might be thinking. Lord and Lady Battenburn sat alone on her side of the church, the only people in attendance who were known of long acquaintance. Northam's contingency was scarcely larger. The Compass Club was there, infinitely more sober than the first time Elizabeth had seen them together, and in the first row was the dowager countess. Elizabeth could not know if Northam's friends were on their best behavior because of respect for the occasion or fear of his mother. Elizabeth had only glimpsed her ladyship as she limped past her pew on her way to stand with Northam. What she saw did not ease her mind in the least.

  Lady Northam had eyes a few shades lighter than the cobalt blue of her son's, and infinitely more in common with a frozen lake than a halcyon sky. For a moment Elizabeth had not been able to breathe. She still had not fully recovered when it was time to say her vows.

  She heard Reverend Rawlings address her inquiringly. His spectacles flashed a spectrum of color at her and broke her concentration. Panicked, she found herself looking to Northam, never questioning but that she would find something in his face to quiet her.

  His smile was more than kind; it was understanding. His eyes simply held hers, making neither a demand nor offering judgment. She could change her mind, he seemed to say, but his was set.

  The vicar began again, and this time Elizabeth heard herself repeat the vows, her voice clear and steady, the intonation almost heartfelt. She never looked away from Northam, and for this brief passage of time she forgot that anyone save him was with her. Then she was hearing the words again, this time with more resonance and not the slightest hesitation. North made his promises as a knight might express fealty to his lord, pledging not just his loyalty but his life, and the manner of his spoken word left Elizabeth profoundly shaken.

  The ring he slipped on her finger did nothing to change Elizabeth's impression that he had become hers. She was humbled by the depth of his trust even though she had begged him not to give it.

  The vicar cleared his throat, a less than subtle prompt to encourage Northam to kiss his bride. Elizabeth's nod, more a fine lowering of her lashes than a movement of her chin, was imperceptible to everyone but her husband. He inclined his head toward her, his lips hovering just a hairsbreadth above hers. It was then that she entirely understood the extent of his patience and the cleverness of his strategy. In front of his mother, his friends, Lord and Lady Battenburn, the vicar, and before God, Brendan David Hampton, sixth Earl of Northam, waited for her to kiss him.

  Elizabeth closed the distance between them and kissed him full on the mouth. There was a raucous cheer from the second pew, something more suited to a Covent Garden entertainment than a wedding, and it died so suddenly that Elizabeth imagined Northam's mother must have delivered a quelling look. She felt North's lips change shape against hers and knew he was smiling, probably thinking the very same thing as she. Her arms came around his shoulders as he slipped his around her back.

  It would be so very easy to fall in love with him.

  That thought was enough to steel her heart and make her stiffen in his embrace. Northam felt the change in Elizabeth instantly and let her go. Without a word and no alteration of their expressions, they turned simultaneously and faced their audience for the first time as husband and wife.

  Lady Battenburn reached Elizabeth first and hugged her to her ample bosom. "I am so happy for you, my dear. You will see how splendidly a married state suits your temperament. Already you are glowing! Is she not, Battenburn?"

  She kissed Elizabeth on the cheek. "Yes, you are warm. Your joy must be evident to even those who cannot see."

  Northam spared a glance at his wife's face and thought Louise a bit lavish in her assessment of Elizabeth's mood. While Elizabeth no longer looked as if she might faint, to characterize her as glowing was far from the truth. What color flushed her cheeks was most likely there as a result of Louise's enthusiastic embrace and the determined advance of his own mother.

  Battenburn bowed his head toward Elizabeth as his wife stepped out of the way."You are indeed looking very pretty, my dear."

  Northam thought this was damning Elizabeth with faint praise. She was extraordinarily lovely this morning. Even in her most uncertain moments, her beauty was undiminished in his eyes. She wore a gown of white bombazine, trimmed with a tier of lace ruffles at the hem and bands of satin ribbon on the sleeves and bodice. Matching ribbon was threaded through her coiled hair and great pains had been taken to curl gold and ginger tendrils so they framed her oval face. She looked like nothing so much as an angel, but when he stopped to consider that perhaps this was a mere fancy on his part, he saw that his friends' regard was a similar blend of admiration and awe, and came to conclude that his own perception was not a mere bias of affection.

  The Dowager Countess of Northam was a full head shorter than her much-beloved son. She noticed this disparity in their heights around the time of his fourteenth birthday and promptly dismissed it as unimportant. For his part, North pretended he never noticed at all. In the figurative sense, at least, he was inclined to look up to her.

  She was an attractive woman, well-regarded, and remained influential among the ton. Northam suspected she had taken lovers in the years since his father's death, but she was discreet, and he had no desire to know the truth of it. There were a few steady companions and many hopefuls. Her interests in fashion and fashionable entertainments concealed a clever mind, occasionally even from herself. Northam knew his mother did not always appreciate how astute her political observations were, and he was loath to encourage her too much in this arena. He had read Mary Wollstonecraft's Vindication of the Rights of Women even if she hadn't. The implications of his mother taking up the cause of women's rights always gave him pause. She never did anything by half measures, even when she did not know quite what she was doing.

  "Mother," he said, bending to kiss the cheek she offered. "It was very good of you to come."

  "There is that saying about wild horses," she said. "I fancy you know the one."

  "Indeed I do."

  She tapped him on his shoulder with the tip of her sandalwood fan. "You must not simply stand there welcoming me—though I have had a most difficult journey and despaired of a timely arrival—pray, introduce me to your bride."

  Northam turned to Elizabeth and gave her what he hoped was an encouraging smile. "Mother, this is my wife Elizabeth, Lady Northam. My lady, my mother the Dowager Lady Northam."

  Elizabeth made a careful curtsy that did not expose any awkwardness. "My lady," she murmured. "It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance."

  "I don't know how that can be," announced Celia Worth Hampton. "It cannot have escaped your notice that I am most vexed. Whether it should be with you or my son, I have not yet decided. At this moment I am inclined to be more put out with you, but that could change." She leveled North with a clear blue glance that was only moderately thawed. "Is that not so?"

  "Indeed it is," he said.

  "You are being impudent."

  He chuckled. "Mother, I just agreed with you."

  "That is precisely how I know you are being impudent," she said tartly. She addressed Elizabeth again. "It is all in his tone. I collect you will know what I mean."

  "Oh, yes," said Elizabeth. "I do."

  Celia nodded approvingly. "Good. That is a beginning." She indicated the three men hovering behind her. "You see these three, my dear? When a mother knows her son chooses to befriend such as these, what hope can she have that he will make a better match in his marriage?"

  Elizabeth looked at each of North's friends in turn. They had come to stand by him, wish him happy, regardless of what they thought privately about the manner of his marriage. In
spite of losing the wager, South was looking inordinately pleased with himself, while Eastlyn and Mr. Marchman were hardly more reserved. Elizabeth had to believe they would not be of such like minds if Northam himself were not satisfied with the arrangement.

  At the risk of offending the dowager countess, Elizabeth said quietly, "I should count myself fortunate to have friends such as these. I think a mother would be glad if her daughter-in-law proves she is but one-half the good companion to her son that these men have been."

  Complete silence greeted Elizabeth. She fought the urge to lift her chin, suspecting this nervous gesture of defiance would not be looked on kindly.

  Celia Worth Hampton inclined her head and smiled in a most conciliatory manner. "Just so, m'dear." With that, she turned her back on North and Elizabeth and held her palm out to the Compass Club. "One hundred pounds each," she said. "I will graciously accept your markers. I told you North would not choose a bride who could be cowed by his mama."

  North groaned slightly, while Elizabeth looked on in astonishment. Lord and Lady Battenburn exchanged startled glances. Leaning toward Elizabeth, North whispered, "My mother enjoys a larger wager than we usually allow among ourselves."

  "I heard that," Celia said. "I am not yet in my dotage. None of you has the least sense of how to manage a proper wager." She nodded to Southerton, Eastlyn, and Marchman in turn as they dropped their markers into her open palm.

  She closed her hand around the markers and placed them in her reticule. "Thank you, gentlemen. I always enjoy taking your money."

  Southerton shook his head, a sheepish grin making him seem a score of years younger. "How could we know she wouldn't be afraid of you? We are."

  Celia patted his cheek."Just as I intend you always should be."

  "Yes, ma'am."

  She turned back to her son and new daughter. "Oh, do not be so disapproving, North. If you are not careful, you will soon be as priggish as your grandfather, and you know how unbecoming that is." She glanced at Elizabeth, whose mouth was still parted and missed being a full gape by only the narrowest fraction. "And you, dear, you really must not blame North. He knew nothing about this. You can see for yourself, he doesn't have the sense of humor for it. I am going to trust you to see that he doesn't become a complete dullard as I can only boast modest success on that account." She ignored North's long suffering sigh and raised her smooth cheek for Elizabeth's kiss. "Come, I should like something more affectionate than a curtsy. It was very nicely done, infinitely respectful, and just the thing my father will find to his liking when you meet him."