by Lavinia Kent
“Speak the word my friend and I will free you. I know once the offer’s made it’s hard for a gentleman to take it back, but I do have some power and knowledge of manipulation. If in the clear,” Tris glanced at the drizzle outside, “light of morning you have reconsidered, I will take care of the matter for you. No announcements have yet been made.”
“No, even if I wanted, I am powerless to change my mind. My course is set. And, as for madness, I’d asked her twice before last night. It was only her response that changed in light of how matters now stand.”
“You have my mind a muddle, a rather uncommon turn of events.”
Wulf turned from Tris.
“I am rather a muddle myself. Can’t seem to get a straight thought through my brain. I’ve felt better waiting to charge the enemy knowing the certainty of death and pain.”
He moved to the window himself and stared out at the gray, damp weather. If ever there had been a metaphor for his mood; cold, pounding, endless, but with the force drained away.
“I spilled my secrets once about Clarissa. At the time I didn’t know I was twice the fool. Have you seen Lady Burberry’s daughter?”
“No, Burberry never brought them to town and even if he had what interest had I in a babe?”
“It’s all in the eyes, these damned Falmouth eyes.”
Tris moved and laid a hand across his back. “I hadn’t realized you met the woman before. But, it is of little consequence. If that is the case, let me know how I may be of assistance.”
Wulf turned, pulling himself from his friend’s offer of comfort. He knew his mouth jerked with cynicism.
“I will accept your offer. There is a way you can help. I may not yet have clarity of thought, but it occurs to me that with the possibility of impending mourning . . .”
He could not bring himself to speak more clearly, to truly consider the ramifications of his words. “It occurs to me that I may not want to wait for the banns to be read. Far easier to let all think it a love match, that we’ve been swept together by passion. Can you arrange a special license? I’d rather this whole matter over before we receive official news.”
“It would be a simple matter in London, but I am without contacts here. Why do you not just send word to Westlake? He could probably have a clergyman here within the hour, if not yesterday.”
“I had not liked to bother him. Despite his many reassurances, I still wish to avoid imposition. It is not often that you abduct a man’s wife and then have him slap you on the back.”
“Disposing of the threat may have helped with that.”
“True, and he did promise me a favor. I daresay this is not what he imagined. But yes, I will ask. Even with the weather gray and damp, there must be some lad familiar enough with the track to make the run over to Blythemoor.”
“That’s settled then. I am still not sure you’re not a little mad, but the choice is yours.”
“What do ladies bring but lunacy? I am sure you’ve experienced your own folly in that regard.”
“With surely more to come.”
Rose blew the steam across her tea. Anna sat in the corner of the nursery, building castles of fantasy with her blocks. Time had flown so fast. It seemed a day ago she’d been working hard to stack one upon the other and now the towers grew. She even on occasion tried to copy the temple facades that marked the corners of Burberry’s maps.
At least, Rose had never returned them to their portfolio and, thus, they escaped the destruction of the others. How could Wulf have done that? Even with all the emotion of the past day she could still not bring her mind about to accept such wanton, cold destruction. When the current situation resolved she would need to discuss the matter with him.
And she was marrying the man. She knew almost nothing about him and she’d agreed to marry him. What sort of impulsive fool was she?
She glanced again at her daughter, recognized the firmness of the chin, the look of studious contemplation. No, not impulsive, but still perhaps a fool. She had no choice.
She could not deprive the man of another child. If the price was some of her dreams, so be it. She had very literally made her bed and now was forced to lie in it.
“Mama, can the princess live here?” Again, her daughter caught her attention.
“Certainly she can. She can live wherever you want her to.”
“Can she live here?”
Despite her mood Rose smiled. There was nothing like the single-mindedness of a four year old. They could repeat the same question endlessly no matter how you answered it.
“Yes, poppet. The princess can live there. Is that a castle you’ve built her?”
“No, it’s a temple. She’s a goddess princess. She’s just waiting for the hero.”
Waiting for a hero. Didn’t the silly princess know that heroes showed up whether you waited for them or not, and they certainly didn’t lead to happily ever after? But, she couldn’t say that to Anna.
“Lucky princess.”
“Do you think she looks like me?”
“I am sure she’s not as pretty as you.”
“I think she looks just like me. She is a goddess princess.”
Rose smiled and patted her daughter’s head.
“I thought I’d find you here.” Marguerite padded into the room. “I cannot comprehend this weather. So sunny yesterday, and today all damp and dismal.”
How appropriate.
“It’s just the remains of a summer storm.” Rose kept her thoughts to herself. “By tomorrow it will probably be bright and hot.”
“But, what about the ball? How will the vicar’s daughters arrive? How can we hold our dance when it’s like this? I’ll have to wear a shawl with my gown, and that will ruin it.”
Oh, the problems of the young.
“I am sure you’ll still look lovely, a veritable goddess princess.” She smiled down at her daughter.
Anna was quick to answer. “No, I am the goddess princess, she can be a handmaiden.”
Where did Anna get these ideas? What was Nanny reading her? Rose knew Burberry’s books were filled with such fables, but not all of them appropriate for young ears.
“Oh, you goose, a handmaiden am I? Can’t I be a secret princess?” Marguerite went to kneel before Anna.
Anna pursed her lips and considered. “Maybe, but I get to be the head princess.”
“Of course you are. Anybody who looked at you would understand that.”
Anna went back to her building mollified.
Marguerite sat beside Rose. “It was really you I wanted to talk to.”
“Yes.”
“I wanted to know who you’ve decided to marry.”
Rose sputtered at the question. “Why do you think I’ve decided to marry anybody?”
“Well it’s been over a week, and I was sure you’d made up your mind. You never take long to reach resolution.”
Rose hoped her own mixed-up thoughts didn’t show. She’d agreed to marry Wulf, but hadn’t quite reconciled herself to the thought. Her body might quiver with anxious anticipation, but her mind was still unsure. Was he the brute and bully he sometimes appeared, or the man who hugged her daughter to his chest, cried for the son he’d never known, and laughed when she beat him at chess? Who was he really?
“Oh Marguerite, don’t you think you’re pressing a little early?”
“The ball is tonight and all the guests will leave in the next day or two. How can you think it’s too soon to make a decision? If you were seeking a love match, I might understand, but you’ve emphasized the practical. I can’t think it would take long to make up your mind.”
Rose sipped her tea. Make up her mind. That was the problem. She’d said yes, but she hadn’t actually made up her mind.
“You’re right, dearest, I have let time slip by. A fortnight sounded so much longer when it was still to come.”
“So who do you think you’ll choose? Just tell me it won’t be Sir Barton. He tried to pinch me. I can’t tell you where,
but I don’t think I’d like to stay with you if he were here too.”
Well that at least was one good thing about this outcome. She wouldn’t have to worry about Sir Barton and his puppy dog eyes and tongue.
“No, not Sir Barton, that I can promise you.”
“Then who?”
“I still don’t see why you think I’ve reached a decision.” Wulf wouldn’t have said anything, would he?
“I just know you. Whenever you lay out a plan you complete it. You decided to get married, to hold a party to pick a husband, therefore, you must have chosen a husband.”
Well, yes, that was the way it should have worked, would have worked, if that green-eyed devil hadn’t marched in and messed with her thoughts. How had she been supposed to concentrate on finding a husband when she’d been so busy avoiding him, or searching for him, or just watching him? Dreaming of him. How had she been supposed to find a husband when she couldn’t decide what she was supposed to be thinking?
“I guess I am going to disappoint you, then.”
“So, you haven’t chosen a husband?”
“I wouldn’t exactly say that.” Oh, dear. If she pretended that she hadn’t selected anybody then Marguerite would be unbearably hurt if Wulf went through with his preposterous plans to announce their betrothal this evening. How had she ever agreed to that?
“Then, you do know who you’re going to marry?”
“All I am going to say is, you’ll have to wait and see. I wouldn’t want to give you ideas before I am sure.”
“So it’s a surprise?”
Yes, it certainly would be a surprise to one and all.
“You’ll just have to wait.”
“Not fair. I thought I was going to help you plan. I was going to be like you and make a list of the good and bad qualities of each man. I thought it would be practice if Mama ever decides to let me out of the schoolroom.”
“She did let you come here.”
“Yes, but, that’s not the same and you know it.”
“There will be a ball tonight and I do believe you will be dancing.”
“That’s just because it’s the country. And I am not convinced anybody will ask me any way.”
“What about Lord Simon?”
“Well, yes, but I am not convinced his mother will allow him, or if she does she’ll probably stalk us through the ballroom and stare until it’s not any fun. And besides, she may just be right, last time he took my arm he brushed me most inappropriately. I am not sure it was an accident.”
Maybe Marguerite was sharper than Rose had realized, even if she had adopted Mary’s prudish tendencies. She’d certainly summed up Lady Clarington.
“I am sure there will be others. I know you’ll be simply irresistible in the gown we ordered.”
“You should talk. I wish I were old enough to wear bright colors. I am so happy you’ve finally fully put off your mourning. I am sure no matter who you’ve chosen you’ll have half a dozen offers before the night is past.”
She’d already had one, and that was already too many.
“Now, you’re being foolish. Pretty dress or not, I am still me and can hardly compete with your freshness and youth.
Marguerite flushed, but Rose could tell she didn’t actually disagree with the words. Even Wulf hadn’t chosen to marry her for herself. Damn, she shouldn’t be feeling sorry herself. She was doing the right thing. Besides, she smiled bitterly, it would have been a dreary thing indeed to have made up her mind to marry and then received no offers. Still, if only it weren’t all so hurried. Having a little more time would give her more of a sense of control.
Rose stroked her daughter’s soft hair again.
“Well, Puss, it’s time for Mama to go back to her guests. Can you keep busy with Nanny?”
Anna nodded, but didn’t turn her head, too caught up in the wonder of imagination and the dreams that she built.
He heard her sigh, knew instantly that it was hers. He didn’t turn, but waited for her to come to him. He kept his eyes focused on the flickering flames of the fire. It was easier than looking at her, than wondering what he had committed himself to. He knew he was on the right path, but still wished that she . . . that she could be what she seemed, not what he knew she was.
“I think we should put off announcing the betrothal,” Rose said.
That was expected. She wanted to be sure of the earldom before she committed.
“I don’t think that would be wise.”
“Why ever not?”
She moved into the periphery of his vision the light of the fire shining through her gown, outlining her lush curves. He squeezed his fist tight.
“I think your guests will find our marriage shocking enough.”
“I am not sure I take your meaning.”
“Given the weather, I imagine it will be several days before they all depart. I certainly can’t imagine Lady Smyth-Burke or Lady Clarington traveling before the roads are dry.”
“I still don’t see your point. What difference does a day or two make?”
Other than giving her a chance to be sure the title was secure. And to think he’d believed her sympathy about Peter. Thought she’d understood the magnitude of his loss. She’d probably been wondering what the Falmouth jewels were like.
His thoughts made his tone cold. “The difference, my lady, is that I thought you’d like to announce the betrothal before the wedding.”
“I beg to differ.”
“If we marry tomorrow or the day after, surely it is better to announce our plans tonight.”
“Marry tomorrow?”
Her jaw drooped and he could see her pearly teeth, remember how they’d nipped . . . God, what sort of fool did she turn him into that he lusted after her teeth? Even knowing what she was, he couldn’t help dreaming, wishing.
“I thought that would be most sensible under the circumstances.”
“But, the banns . . .”
He could hear the desperation in her voice.
“I am arranging for a special license. I took the liberty of sending one of the stable lads over to Blythemoor. I am sure Westlake can take care of the matter shortly.”
“Special license? Westlake?”
If he hadn’t been in such a foul mood, so trapped by circumstance, her confusion would have been delightful.
“Yes, Westlake owes me a favor. I am sure he’ll consider this repayment.”
She shook her head back and forth. Was she trying to clear her head or deny his words?
“I know you and Wimberley talked of Westlake this morning, but I hadn’t realized that the relationship was this close.”
Wulf clenched his jaw. He didn’t like to dwell to long on the subject. Still, she deserved to know. She had agreed to marry him, no matter what the circumstance.”
“Tris, Wimberly that is, Westlake and I were great companions in school and then when we first came to London we went about together. I was still my uncle’s heir when we first met and we fit together like peas in a pod. Westlake was already, well he was already Westlake, can’t imagine him any other way, but Tris and I were just lads of great expectations. We ran around like the young lords we knew we were.”
“If you’re so close I am surprised you haven’t been over to see Westlake during your stay. Blythemoor is quite close if you ride directly instead of following the road.”
She was obviously trying to deflect the conversation from their impending nuptials. If only the subject she’d chosen were a little less tender.
“I said we were close. I attempted to abduct his duchess last year, almost caused the death of her son, and then shot her first husband’s brother. I am afraid it has led to slightly strained relations.”
“Oh.”
Well, that had silenced her. Her mouth gaped slightly.
“Do you have any other questions?”
“A dozen.” She paused and chewed her plump, lower lip. “But, I imagine that this is not the time for them. I am sure you will explai
n it all in detail at some later date. I am sure you exaggerate.”
“I wouldn’t be too sure of that, my lady. But, you are right we have other things to discuss. Do you want to make the announcement this evening or should I? It is your house and you are the hostess, but it is more traditional for the man to . . . or perhaps we could have Tris do it? Nothing like having a marquess on call.”
“I still don’t see why we need to rush. Even if we wait a few days to announce the betrothal and then have the banns read it would still only amount to a few weeks.”
“A few weeks I may not have, or do you forget? I want this wedding over before there is any talk. Let us have it done with before we receive the news, whatever it is. Everyone will assume it a hurried love match.”
Chapter Thirteen
“A love match?”
The phase spun around inside her head even as she spoke the words. It should have sent her doubling over in gales of laughter, but instead it touched some chord deep inside.
A love match. Four years ago it could have been. For the first time Rose felt truly disloyal to John. For a moment she had remembered what it had been like to feel that first wave of passion for a brave young soldier, to imagine herself a carefree girl. If all that had been true, could it have been a love match?
“Yes, a love match. They’ll think we’re simply besotted with each other. Hard as that might be to believe.” He cocked a brow at her, but his words rang bitter.
Did he really have to make it clear how little he wanted this wedding? She wasn’t even sure why he desired her. Even without the earldom he was such a magnificent example of a man. What woman could resist those broadly muscled shoulders? And so brave and honorable, and that softness she’d seen peeking through with Anna, and two nights ago in the garden, and his smile . . . No, it was no wonder he was not overjoyed at being trapped into wedding an overly plump, faded rose.
“All the more reason to wait a couple of days. We can build up people’s expectations a little, flirt. Then when we announce our betrothal, or even our wedding, they will understand.”
Couldn’t he give her a little room? She wasn’t sure why it was so important, but she needed to know he could compromise. He closed his eyes and for a moment she thought he really considered, that perhaps he understood more was on the line here than a couple of days time.